I would fret over
baptism like a mother frets over a firstborn or like a student frets over an
exam. there was desire for excellence a made feeling looking at its praise.
years would make expert by craving for public merits. we might agree, or hassle
over agreement, but many put a deal into our perceptions. I was moving faster
or seeming a circle where scenes appeared to stay sameness. lots of people.
varying voices. most alarming convictions. it amazes me when we see an event
and most saw differences. one is authority. another is persuasion. where
another is fierce. to know what was seen, to have it with intensity, while deferring
to another’s picture. many calendars
later, seated in a classroom, as to witness such systematic detangling. the
biggest concern is a concerning concern, while many walk-away feeling unscrewed.
but days are something like wood. each voice carves a statement. each mind is
learning to extrapolate. in deeper awareness, one learns expatiation, by
strengthening commentary. rhetoric is central. meeting resistance, as
resistance is intentional, while often pleasure is acquired. skin thickens.
assessments are habitual. many keys are reshaped. I
would fret over fitting in, like a child headed to preschool, or a ballerina
entering a prestigious academy. it
comes easier for some, rather, expectedly, but one kind gesture proves expedient.
I was feeling gray
or stuffy or irritable. I was watching faces in memories, I sunk into granny’s
eyes.
today is put to
sketches. it falls into many calendars. one might recite this day in his
future. a book of thoughts, a few ideas, or a memoir waiting. a blueprint, an
outline, a few key characters. maybe a corrupt/moral protagonist, or an untidy
antagonist, or someone going uphill trying to preserve his breath.
