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What am I forgetting?

Every single day I see or think or experience or am directed to something wonderful. It's most often something small—a good response to some clear or not-so-clear thinking, a little bird close enough that it seems friendly & personal, a few minutes of snow. I do try to notice them but I don't always also write them down. My mind runs in the same grooves, so that, for example, I'm generally more aware when I'm at karate, thus I remember what happens there. (And I like drifting into that city fog when I'm alone on the streets.) Yesterday for the first time ever, I fooled one of the wilier fighters with a pretty basic fake-out move. Also, I learned of the wonderful 1830s title My Bugle and How I Blow It, by English humorist? essayist? Clarence Mangan. It wasn't as exciting to read as I hoped & I only got through a couple of paragraphs. I made a terrific soup. It rained after it snowed. An old friend wrote: And I remember clearly the luminous bands that hold us together. A line that will make me happy for the rest of my life, as the reality of it has since I was 19.
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