I wonder if I'll ever see a sperm whale. I'm not wondering what I need to do to see a sperm whale, or the practical steps I could take to see a sperm whale. There are many paths to the sea. Follow a river. Become a marine wildlife photographer. Board the whaling ship of a one-legged monomaniac. I just wonder if I'll ever see one, that's all. 

 Thanksgiving is next week. My families are gathering, although I have chosen not to attend. Kind of sad, as my mother is hosting and she loves Thanksgiving. I think it makes her feel very American. 

 Not that there's any definitive evidence of it, but there is some correlation with mental illness episodes occurring after people recover from Covid. Early on there were some indications of muddled thinking and memory issues when people had the active virus. What I was musing about with my friend Jake was that Americans would probably take the virus a lot more seriously if it didn't just cause death. What if it gave you terrible acne? Or shrank your penis size? Caused you to speak Spanish? Caused your trigger fingers to fall off?

We'd be wearing masks on masks on masks....

"So may the sunrise bring hope Where it once was forgotten. Sons are like birds Flying upward over the mountain."  -song I'm listening to. Because music colors time, and writing colors time too. 

I love you.

Fun* Facts About Me, Accurate As Of Right Now

1. The total number of jeans I own is zero. I find jeans cold in the winter, hot in the summer, they afford virtually no warmth if they get wet, and they take forever to dry. They're also bulky, and I don't like travelling with more than a single backpack of clothing. Cutting-edge garment for say, gold-mining in the 1800's, an activity and era I spend very little time in. 2. Tattoos of words annoy me. Similar to the feeling I might get if I were viewing an abstract painting that had the words "Abstract Painting" written on it. I guess when it's a tattoo it feels like the person is saying it over and over and over again. That's how it feels to my brain anyway. On principle tattoos I believe tattoos can be whatever the person wants because it's their body. 3. I miss my friend kermit. She used to blog. We were blog friends. *facts may not be fun

What has a decade of escapism done to my mind? A jagged temperament tumbled smooth as river rock. Tethered to a life-support skein of addiction engines. Paying for the privilege, subscription, one month at a time. Every possible future towering over me demanding more money, a cavernous hand outstretched for gold, the other attaching leeches like a plague doctor. Don't dwell on discontent; earn more to buy more and all will be well. Love in the time of Covid-19. Still hunting for an expression device. The promise of a device, as if I never used a notebook and pen. There's a month, this month, for people to write entire books. There's a life, this life, for people to write entire books. A month could be enough. A day could be enough. The story of a day, an uninterrupted stretch of consciousness between sleep. In one of the Alice In Wonderland stories, or spin-offs, or plays, the flowers can speak because they are not asleep. The ground is hard and so they wake. A theme perhaps, of suffering leading to self-awareness. Must it be physical? Cold showers, lumpy mattresses, bland foods? The hunt. I'm over tattoos, or so I thought. Maybe I should get that Bloodborne tattoo of the hunter's rune. They hunt, grow skilled, go mad, get killed. Maybe if I hunt art instead of beasts I can avoid that last bit.