Scratching the itch – postponing the premonitory urge

Like every morning I groom my previous day’s notes. There is a premonitory urge, a trying to scratch the Tourette’s itch of solving the mystery, of wringing order from chaos and damping down (more likely postponing) the urge before it intrudes on my keeping faith with public commitments.  So I liked one of Garrison Keillor’s birthday poets in today’s The Writer’s Almanac: poet Sharon Olds  said: “…All that wanting to seem normal in regular life, all that fitting in falls away in the face of one’s own strange self on the page. […]”

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