Morphology, or the study of morphing

9 9 Morphology, or the study of morphing Bob Hicok I tend to brush my teeth right before I go to work. When I don’t, there’s this space right before I go to work into which other things or nothing can creep. I’ve been reading a book about rocks in the teeth brushing space, which took the place of the washing my coffee cup space, which I now leave unwashed, which is why I stopped drinking coffee. I knew a guy who believed we could do anything we set our minds to. I asked him to be a guy who didn’t believe that. When he couldn’t, I said check mate and we went for pizza by the river. I need to stop writing about wanting to change. My desire to change is unchanging. But wanting to stop writing about change is a desire to change. Sometimes it feels like I’m both the prisoner and the warden in a movie about a guy who didn’t do it. How does the warden escape being sadistic, given that the script calls for sadism, how does the prisoner get more of the rice pudding? If I ran a prison, I’d make everyone wear corduroy pants so their escapes would sound funny. That would be different, like whimpering feels transitional between crying all the time and not crying all the time. This may be insensitive, but do you ever feel like the wagons of your thoughts have circled and you’re inside, being shot at? And you’re rooting for those doing the shooting? I won’t ever notice all the things I never notice. This is like saying something else that means the same thing put a slightly different way. ...