I cant concentrate on typing without looking, but I find that I know my way around pretty good. I can type just fine without looking. I can motor along, just looking up a tthe sky, although I;m still prone to quite a few mistakes.
I can't help but look down from time to time and cheat, it'w too hard to want to look
. I was trying to type a story I'd writen in an old workbook, but I wasn't getting the whole typing thing, I was very easily distracted. Some how it's a process of relaxation and attention. Two diffferent sides fothe brain trying to act in harmony. Actually three: the motor memory function. the right brain speller, and the left brain editor. Whatever. I really dont make that many mistakes when I'm really in the zen of it, but it takes a pretty powerful bit of attention/not attention to truly make the leap to blind proficiency.
Greater still is to tap the godhead. To be they unconscious consciousness. The conduit into whom those wonderful musical whiffs and verbal riffs infect a notion to boogie.
But I'm cheeting by lookingt again, and so all my ideas are evaporating. What do I see staring at the yellow-orange wall with the nail hole righ ahead? And type just for the sake of typing until something travels through me. Like an amp turned on waing for a chord to be struck, or a seed waiting for a rop of rain. Listening to such beautiful misery courtesy of Cobain, talking about Heroneomus Bosch and how he painted such fantastical, dark dream-realities. And his patron, who bought all of his mad, mad shit and kept it carefully for centuries, that we may know the condition of a man's inner-vision ages after he is gone.
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