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March 30th 2010    Tim Candler

     I suspect my capacity to retain information is diminishing.   It never was very reliable.   Often these days I find myself in midstride wondering where I am going.  I see the same behavior in the Grey Cat.   He too, while apparently intent, will often stop to think.  But I at least don't suddenly start rolling around in dust and god knows what.

     I used to think his dust bath had practical purpose.  An ancient capacity to care for his own parts.  And I imagined it felt good on the fur.  Like scratching a beard.  Now I am more convinced it is an emotional event that follows what I will call 'a midstride pause'. 

    My own experience of this pause has become something of a preoccupation.   I find myself in a what I suppose is a phenomenological behaviorist mode waiting for a 'midstride pause' to occur so that I might better record it, and thereby better understand it and perhaps defeat it. 

    Invariably this preoccupation itself results in 'midstride pause', and I come away frustrated by a complete lack of progress and a general confusement that could easily turn me into something that would happily roll around in dust and god knows what if only the bones allowed it.

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