Napping in the forest is only superseded by writing in the forest. So here we are, in a hammock, doing the superlatter. You and me. In this together. Listening to the cicadas, dimmer than the previous week. What would it be like, to go underground and wait around to come back into the world 17 years later? That can be what it feels like to leave town on a bicycle and return four days later. It’s just the same world, with slightly different road construction and a similar series of feelings. Well, maybe the feelings are different. A fully used body has a tendency not to suffer from the same organ-issues that transpire in an unused body. What would a tree do without gravity? It would just be a little puddle of biomass that would eventually shrivel up. Everything needs to pull against something. The thing can be to figure out how to arrange for something to pull against, when otherwise you might be out on the frictionless ice in rock climbing shoes. Makes it difficult to get anywhere, even if you feel like you’re pushing.
Work and children are pretty straightforward tensile forces to yoke up to. But I’m on hiatus from the one and probably not going to do the other. So it’s naps and bike ride and hand-poured coffee with spices for tension, in addition to books and as we can see, some writing (though mostly just hitting the comma key with my middle finger, as you can see). Some more arbitrary tension could be useful to add. I’m thinking on what that ought to be.
Roman Ryan 