I still have things I want to tell you about mark-making, but I can't today, because I need to tell you about correspondence, and how it is a thing that sometimes drives me mad—not a thing so much as an idea. (I will make my attempts not to try your patience.) I am inclined to see correspondence in everything: this relates to that, that directly corresponds to this, through space, through time, along the unseen and unmeasured channels these things course through. It is a similar, though not identical, inclination that once caused my mother, not terribly long ago, to say to me, "You live in a dream world." Well, yes, I do. Witness what I do. I make that dream world manifest, and so I must live there, otherwise, I would have to find something else to do, and believe me when I tell you, there is nothing else I could do, I could not be anything other than what I am, I could not even be a forest path-clearer! This tendency to see correspondence in (perceptually) unrelated things can sometimes drive me crazy, and there are times when I must say to myself, aloud (as I did last night), "Not everything is correspondent!" I must talk myself down from the correspondence tree, I must coax myself back to earth—but I don't coax myself, ever. I order; I demand. I become a humorless matron in her stiff shoes: "Not everything is correspondent. Don't be so ridiculous." I should provide you with a telling of the event that caused me to say this, but I will not. I will tell you, rather, that I believe in tarot cards, and I have numberless good reasons to. I will tell you that I have seen things that do not exist come into existence not long after seeing them. I have spoken words that had no a priori thought which were words that foretold what was on a breath's brink of occurring, and they were truthful words. I will tell you, also, that my work corresponds with the future oftentimes much more than it does with the present, it takes only my arriving at the future to apprehend it. (That is the closest explanation of what happened last night, I am not attaching specifics to this.) This is what I mean by correspondence. Jung called it synchronicity, of course, but for some reason, that term feels as dated as my college days, when "synchronicity" was on my tongue as much as wine, which brings, suddenly!, to mind a dream I had last night. It was graduation night. School was over. I wept, for I loved school so much. This is a recurring dream, that I am weeping for the end of school. I have not had this dream in a while, nor have I had my dreams of redheaded men and women, I think because I am using so much red in my work, I do not need to tell myself through my dreams to be with red—I am with red. Mostly, I think it would be unwise to ignore what I see as correspondent—obviously, for it is the gods' way of speaking to us! We ignore those voices at our peril!—but sometimes it is necessary for me to consider, as it was last night, that what might seem correspondent, what might seem to my hypersensitivities to be related, though they bear no actual attributes of relationship or—is this a word?—relationality, might just as likely be coincidence, and in this way, in this way of seeing some events as merely coincidental am I able to take some much needed time away from myself, although I would never truly believe myself if I said "just as likely."