it wasn’t my idea, Noreen

All of this, everything since the ides of April, all the everything of it, and I’ve layed it out as a blogger as best I could these last days – these damaged and these improving days, 78 of ’em. All of it.

None of this was my idea. I imagine it fell out of me and fell through me and perhaps I ‘spose as a result of me, but I did not and could not imagine it back there in the first place, some other Wednesday, when a life spirit with its own plans and schemes, jokes and dead seriousnesses, said something like “enough of this one” and said “how about this one?” and one’s a statement and one’s a question and in about 37 hours it’ll be my car’s tires doing the talking and I’ll bring my best attention to the journey – a journey I’m pretty sure both of odometer and metaphor – and maybe 1000 miles away I will have some new ideas, they will be my ideas, I’ll stand on a cliff above the Pacific and yell to it all — “This, this right here today, yeah, this is my idea.

But, like I told Noreen, it for sure wasn’t my idea before.