I’m happy to report that the world at 5 a.m. CST in middle Tennessee is, this morning, much as I found it last time I checked at this hour: calm and calming, quiet and waiting for what Billy Collins calls “the key of the head.” 71 degrees. Overcast. Your move, it seems to be saying.
But, unlike last time, it’s dark out here. Can’t see to type yet.Will try to think for a few minutes without moving my fingers. Better yet, will try not to.
Will definitely not be repairing to the cellar like young Master Muir to build a contraption of wood and weights and pulleys. My projects are lighter.
Like him and Warren Zevon, however, I note that an eternity lies ahead for sleeping. Meanwhile I should get on with building something or other, in this bonus time. An hour a day is two weeks a year, and a page a day is still a book. Or a blog.