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15 August 1986 No. 3: Given August 15, 1986

Posted by Isobel Freer in 1986: Wherein I am 30 & I am 31.
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can’t work on my novel tonight. It will be interesting to chart progress. In the beginning, of course, I am always taken out of time & deluged with impressions. This is what is called ‘given.’

All creators know this.

But after that, it’s my conscious mind that plods forward, sifting through thought for idea, laboriously.

What I want to see, of course, is if I reach another given period.

How intense it will be, how long it will last. How viable its offerings will be. The marvelous thing, of course, would be to learn to summon given work at will. And no, not from the Debil!

Given is what comes from God, I suppose, except that God is confusing. Jesus portrayed Him as the Father—that is, as Someone—not Something. And yet, God is in everything, there is no place that He is not.

So I have taught la princessa.

You see, these pens redirect one’s script. I can’t imagine writing in the cursory script that the lady at AFL forced on me, with these pens. Until that time, I wrote in an elf script, barely legible to people who were not elfin.

She made me quit writing like that; cut-off-your-nose person that I am (a trait my son has inherited—no, not assumed because he learned it from me; I seldom, as in never, exhibit that trait as an adult—it is amazing to see it in him), I never really wrote as an elf again; it seemed assumed, pretentious, frivolous.

Yes, frivolous again; Columbus strips one of that.

The interesting thing is that, in Atlanta, one doesn’t dress as well as in Columbus. People look like fashion models in that town. Well, in the malls; I can’t say what the clerical/business world dresses like.

Here, the mall workers dress more artificially and/or less well, while the professionals dress like fashion models.

Anyway, I’m struck by how well-dressed people are in Columbus.

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