I was sitting in a coffee shop in Clifton the other day, and I had a strange awakening to an action that I have performed many times, but never noticed.
I was writing in a notebook, when my left hand started to itch. Rather than stop writing to scratch it, I simply used my teeth. I realized though, that I had done this many times before and, in fact, rarely used my hands to scratch any part of me that I could reach with my mouth. At first I was rather amused and infatuated with this odd behavior that I had discovered in myself; soon though I began to understand it.My mind, I have decided, does not operate in a normal fashion... in fact, it operates quite abnormally. Not only does it come equipped with a pause button (I stole that description from Mary), but it operates on several tracks at once. The odd part though is that the tracks are separated by really fucking high concrete walls so that what ever is happening in one track is completely isolated from and oblivious to what is going on in the other tracks. So this sudden enlightenment led me to understand the previously mentioned strange behavior.I scratch my hand with my mouth. Is that odd? Is it odd that I get so preoccupied writing that I do not want to break my train of thought? Is it odd that when my trains of thought collide I become helplessly confused and am forced to murder small animals? Is it odd that I would joke about murdering small animals? I don’t think so.
None of that seems odd to me. However, it seems odd to me to concern one hand with the problems of another.
--josiah
3/13/2001
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