Writing on my new novel Jimmy Freeman has been slowing down lately. I am in a glob. I have always wanted to write a high school book. Now I have got a chance to write a part of a high school book. The rest of the book has come to me right along without hesitation. But this part, the high school part has become a glob. Untangling all the threads is hard. And it hurts probably more than anything else I have ever written. Why did I not remember how complicated it is to be a high school kid? How could I go through all these years and not remember? You say, I don't like high school kids; I'd never want to go back. Okay! Hack up your life. You're a jerk. Also, as you might expect, you do get tired writing these long works. Wouldn't it be better to get a life rather than sit there in front of your computer wondering what makes a high school kid tick? That kind of shit comes in globs. I personally can't figure out any other way of getting through it except patiently slowly. It's something you have to wait for. It is a process of chipping away. The hands and the spirit get tired. A glob is a tightly knit experience. It refers to a time when a lot was happening, next to each other, one thing right after another. Like machine gun fire in a war. Numerous foundation stones appear. There is a jam up in the mind, similar to writer's block. No way to get out of it except by thinking through it. It is like flying through a thunder storm: happenings get all mixed up in each other; they wind in over and through. Takes a while for all the elements to play out. Eventually, holes appear in the glob. Somebody says something. Oh yes, that is the beginning of another sentence. You get that nailed down. Move on. Might take awhile. You feel rich, though frustrated. You feel like a millionaire, buy anything, what you want to buy? Where you want to go now? Each sentence has a thousand-and-one possibilities. Oh yeah. XYZ. Good idea. Nail that down. Slow but rich. Don't hang around like a drunk bustin everybody's frigging balls. Sweat, you get tired. Next time you work, you start at the top. A lot more comes down, more details, new details within details. The wonderation: is this interesting enough?; should it be cut? But wonder doesn't come up till later. At least not while you're doing it. You have a feeling something deep is going on. Carnality! Risk! Accident! Freedom! Being! Life won't let you think about those things unless you have always wanted to. In fact, why should you even bother with a glob unless you have always wanted to. Skirt it, make an end run; a quick transition takes you past. Ignore your globs! Why not? Ignore everything. A fool is a friend to all. Trouble is, where will you be when it is over? Nowhere. A little less confused or more confused than ever?