Molly’s Journals

Wednesday, February 26th, 1992

I stepped back & let George forge a bit today. He made a pastry crimp and a fork. I watched the fork making, so I can refer to it later when it’s my turn.

This normal language becomes boring. What to do about it ... How can sentences form themselves so they don’t plod from paragraph to paragraph? How can I leave that boring little circuit of vocabulary learned by the age of 10? The idea of foregoing use of the verb “to be” intrigues me, as a start. Maybe speaking a language other than ’Marican would slip the mind away from years of verbal grooves.

Life blows wild outside tonight. I was in the camper (“to be” again) when the door blew shut with a loud double bang. When I went down the path, leaves hopped by, looking like toads. A cat cries outside, but we can’t see her. Animals move and the wind blows.

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