I did not spring forth
full-grown and fully-
blown into my present
self. It took time – then,
now and in the future –
handed to me by God-
lings. “I was born a baby,
what are these hundred
suits of clothes I’m
wearing?” asked Jim
Harrison. A friend sent
him books of Zen in
his darkness and
“They rattled me loose
from the oppressive, pole-
axed state of distraction
we count as worldly
success.”* I don’t
even fit in the
suits anymore. They
hang in the closet
and I write this at
two p.m. in my
fashionable
purple underwear,
which is my *The
Shape of the
Journey, pg. 361,
too.