Simplify

The computer decided to ignore my commands and set off on its own path, but then life necessitates grooming a way. And that way. I must stop there because as soon as I write way I am capitulated into territory carved out by someone else. The Way, as if you can stipulate a word as belonging to you.

If I withdraw from this behemoth and pick up my pen I can envision commanding the instrument to obey my thoughts, but if the pen leaks and my words disappear beneath a puddle of deep black ink all is lost --save what is in my memory.

I recently read a book about people who spend hours each day learning how to memorize playing cards, binary numbers, telephone numbers, assorted words without any connection to one another.

Resort to a ball point pen or a pencil, but they each hold within their innards drawbacks. Who hasn't smudged a ball point and watched a letter slide into another letter changing the meaning. Or suppose you pick up your pencil by the wrong end and in a moment of exhilaration erase some words . What is left, but shards.

Then I'll gather the shards like an archeologist of words and create a mosaic of thoughts. Rather than plod on with a weighty tome no one reads, I'll weave a short pithy piece that is 140 characters long or rid myself of all detritus, of all non-essentials and write a six word story.