Repeat after me. Repeat after

August 14, 2002

Repeat after me. Repeat after first application. Finished a shower and was drying off when I realized my hands were not really my own at the time. They were on some sort of repeat cycle. First rub head with towel. Right hand moves up under towel and pull down across top of left arm. Left hand does the same as right over left arm. Hands repeat outward motion with an upward swing to dry forearms. As my hands worked the towel I moved to an out of body spot. I noticed that each motion was involuntary and stealthily efficient. At some point I had learned how to dry myself and eventually the process was memorized by my muscles and my brain was free to move elsewhere. I probably do this in exactly the same way (with minor variations for the new things I find over the years) each time. I thought of the elaborate ritual of the hockey team whacking the goalies pads in the exact same order and in all the obscure places in order to avoid bad luck. Goalies taps left post and then right. Skates into left corner. Looks at the clock. Never different. Drying yourself after a shower is perhaps more complex. It struck me that I had probably started my day this way and that the idea that came to me for the song of the had come during the drydown. In all these muscle memorized periods I was free to travel off to a more valuable space. Sure “be here now” is a potent and valuable instruction but I think this may be the way most people buy creative time for themselves. “Be elsewhere now”. This is perhaps the bodies way of giving us back our creative space as the day gets filled with menial tasks and necessities. Art, science and human civilization have flourished on trips to the bathroom, the repeated hammering of nails, and putting on socks. I have these fears that driving a car to the same spot each day can take commuters into the same treading of gray matter. Since I am not currently a commuter I think it best to avoid the road when others commute. I’ve reached my destination and not known how. I knew I drove there but I couldn’t exactly remember every detail. I was probably thinking so hard about ways to quit my job and move onto other things that I let my sense memory take over the driving. Its amazing what’s in that tank. The sense memory tank contains so many things you do that you don’t know you do. In it lies your nervous twitches and compulsive leanings. I will put the phone in the fridge sometimes. Friends have noticed that I will hand them things for no reason. I will be holding a pen, a kitten, a clock, or the shoe I am about to put on. As I converse with them I will casually put it in their hands. No reason. There are aspects of the sense memory system that may, in my case, be “overdeveloped” . Perhaps mom cooked in too many aluminum pots. When I see my kids performing the same involuntary actions as my own I realize that some motions have survived for generations. Families handing different facial ticks, ungainly running techniques and erotic flares on to their next of kin. I pray that my kids do not establish such an extensive repertoire as my own but that they use their down time wisely. I will not let them drive. . . I promise . . . . now hit the showers.