I get a bittersweet sense lately. As a piece of music that must end at some point, our time together is limited.

Guessing that progress is cumulative in some ways. Maybe it also cyclical? I keep coming around again and again to a rash of activities that I seem to be abandoning at the same time. I drop the threads and pick them up again. Then I come around to the other things I dropped again and again.

Author Barbara Sher would say that I'm a scanner.

Perhaps this longing in me comes from words being sequential - we can't say it all at one time because we don't have the shorthand concepts to encompass it all in entirety. So we can only discuss pieces of the whole story, the whole life.

I prefer to be honest about as what a person is "selling" to another. For instance, "Wouldn't you want to.....?" These actions of "selling" are, in a sense, manipulative. Manipulation is, at it's best, the ability to create a desire for an experience. The ultimate value of the experience is, of course, determined by the user.

Of course, permission is implied, as in the teacher/student relationship or in the forms of the assault of advertising.

There's lots of concern about a lack of money in my culture lately. Lots of people are reluctant to spend their money. Credit is tight. There are many other stories that seem to be anticipating horror and paranoia that supposedly is going to happen. So I'd like to tell you a story about the first time I thought I might have to borrow some money in my distant past.

What happened, circa 1977, was that it was a Friday.
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