Extinction
I've just spent the weekend lying on the deck, gardening and otherwise looking upward to the fat fractal coastline of green leaves against the sea of blue sky and decided I need to return for a moment to my natural writing instincts: brewed in my brains, turned off and on as at a steam spigot, I write like I am gulping strong, earthy coffee from Peru or Venezuela, someplace mountainous and nearly extinct by 21st century standards.I began reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance this morning. I know I have been told a dozen or so times since the age of 18 that this is the book to read. And each time I have poo-pooed the advice. So, what changed? Have I lost my own philosphy? Do I need the directon of Pirsig's insights to endure? No, I have instead acquired my own solid philosophy, my own intent direction and now feel finally unthreatened by someone else's equivalent.
posted by jrotman @ 9:18 AM
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