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     I don't know if I go back to an old restless habit of mine whether it is somehow being lost in something technical, or so self absorbed that I am scarcely aware for much of the time of anything going on.  This logic, this persistent logic, the creation of classes, functions, mathematical structures which go forth, or maybe I attempt to understand what I had mapped out in mind all along which goes into pages of diagrams of one thing leading to the next, and any particular series of dead ends that were never fully worked but never fully removed...with vanishing corridors passing into no where and stair ways leading to dead ends.  No, admittedly not this bad and ever bit given to nothing of another's criticism.
    Passing time is like this.  Somehow desire manages to emerge in this, even as if there were nothing of an originating passion having sparked anything.  Somehow desire which leads to the same self absorbed condition, a condition of having forgotten.  This is all overly analytical in any event.