Another mostly lazy day. There's certainly plenty I could do: laundry, dropping off the pile of clothing donations, washing the dogs. 

Of course, the never-ending need to vacuum the dog hair. Fur tumbleweeds roll by, as a red-tailed hawk crys overhead to punctuate my solitude. 

It is also time to go through my tech and cull what I don't use anymore. 

Everything is the latest and greatest until the next thing comes out. 

After car-shopping for my sister, my nephew, and most recently, myself, it's become clear that the seller's strategy is to dazzle us with more than we need. And why not, I think, don't I deserve it? I feel like I've been deprived of something before, even though I didn't know it even existed until they try to sell it to me. 

I feel like I've realized this before, probably many times. 

I'm still stuck in the cycle. 

It's time for the hard choices.

Do I get rid of my collection of superhero statuettes? The comic books? The tiki mugs?

Probably don't need the kayak. We had a good run back when I lived by the lake, but I haven't used it since. 

I feel like a sea turtle covered in barnacles. The drag of possessions that I've accumulated because of the dopamine release when purchasing them, and because I probably view them as little extensions of myself as I think I am. Right? I struggle with that. What if I'm trying to remind myself to be something I never was?

Even though I do appreciate many of my possessions as art, it's still worth reassessing once in a while. "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful," is something someone said. I modify the first part to "immediately useful" when I'm shopping. 

Lots of stuff that could be useful, but I don't need to purchase. 

Aside from safety stuff. First aid kits, fire extinguishers. Those are good things to have. 

I don't know. 

Maybe I'll give a bunch of it away. Keep only my very favorite stuff. 

I suppose I better go reassess. 

movies and car repair

Just got back from Alien: Romulus. I enjoyed it. I do love a good space station. The sets were really cool, and I wanted to hang out or climb around in most of those places. Except without the aliens. They're definitely still the perfect jerks. 

They built full-size animatronics of the aliens and I am hunting eBay now to see if maybe a disgruntled crew member stole one and is selling it. Probably not, but if they do I'll be ready. 

There were some lovely shots of space stuff. Flying through dense atmospheres, debris, and planetary rings. Except there's a part where they're all worried about crashing into the rings, which is not how that works at all. 

Other than that, the science was spot-on. The facehuggers, acid for blood, gravity generators, all perfect. 

Looking forward to the weekend. More driving lessons for Ender, and we can replace the stripping on the Yaris windows. 

I bought original manufacturer parts for it that cost about 45 bucks each, but that was before I sold it to him and maybe I'll just use the cheap stuff that works almost as well that is roughly ten dollars for a roll that can cover a football field. 

I'm a bit of a snob when it's parts for my car, but he's a teenager and this is his first car; almost literally since he's been riding in it since he was a baby. 

Yeah as long as it keeps the water away from the electronics, I'm sure it will be fine. 

Crooked Names

I've been battling witches all night. 

Mostly rap battles; some breakdance fighting. A little Sudoku. 

They could just use their magics, of course, and destroy me in a thousand different ways. 

That doesn't interest them. We're not really even enemies. They're just bored, and awake. And so am I. 

They can fly, but I've never seen it. They're never in a hurry. They're not immortal, I don't think, and they live longer than us, but not that much longer. They move through time differently, it seems. Sometimes, (lots of times,) they'll answer a question before I even ask it. Like, days before. I'll ask them something, and they'll turn to me with their large yellow eyes, (flecked with silver,) and do that unsettling blink they can do (where the lower eyelid moves from the bottom up, like a chicken) and I'll flip though my notepad of all their puzzling sayings, until I find one that fits. 

There's usually one that fits, and I check it off and add a number from 1 to 10, a score of how certain I am. Sometimes more than one fits; those I draw a little star next to. 

They are beautiful, in their way. Their proportions are subtly different, and not fixed. Limbs shorten and lengthen with the breeze. They will stand ramrod-straight when alert, or scoliosis-slither like a sidewinder when annoyed., 

It's unsettling. Still, it's like any other body language. They remind me more of exotic animals that people think they can keep as pets.

They're not tame; they're not afraid of you; and they might not even look you. 

You're safe because you're not their preferred prey. 

And they're ruthless when we play Sudoku. I actually don't even know how to play, but I'm afraid to ask so I just put with random numbers. 

It amuses them to no end; sometimes games end with them convulsing work laughter, like little bells, their arms and legs becoming rubbery and bending until they collapse into tinkling piles. 

Sometimes they are solemn. 

I think I may be some kind of oracle to them, when I attempt to play. 

I'll have to ask. Or maybe they've already told me. I'll have to check my notepad. 

But it's late, and they want to play again. 

Holy Hell it worked! 

Kind of. 

I dreamed of a massive cheeseburger. It was as big around as a dinner plate, and eight inches high. 

Sadly, I did not eat it. In my dream, I picked it up (barely able to, even with both hands,) looked at it, and then set it back down. 

I wonder if that signifies anything. I used to have a book of dream symbol interpretations, but it seemed like anything could mean anything. 

I slept pretty well. Woke up kinda hungry. 

We took the mutts with us in the new car to go get burritos today. They loved it. I'd been hesitant, because it's a new car and it was nice having one thing in my life that wasn't covered in dog hair. Even my office has dog hair in it, somehow. 

The back seat is big enough for all three of them to fit comfortably. Bun-Bun and Marceline were each sticking their snoots out of opposition windows, their nostrils flaring wildly as they sampled the night air. 

Marceline is slowing down quite a bit. She laid down in the middle and just tried to snooze. She isn't that old, really. She was a pup when we bought the house, we guessed probably almost a year old at the time, although the shelter said she was three. 

I guess she's 9 now? She still likes to romp and wrestle the other two every now and then, but it's not often. 

I don't know. She's got a cozy life. When I'm eating, she doesn't sit at my feet and beg like Mabel and Bun. Still, when I do inevitably give in and give them a bite of whatever I'm eating, I will take a piece and go find her, usually resting on our bed, and I'll give it to her. 

I feel different today. Today I helped a person who is a quadriplegic, and on a ventilator. Tracheostomy and all that. Can't move their limbs. Can't breathe on their own power. 

So what the hell am I so mopey about? I can...walk. Breathe. Go out for burritos.

I helped this person, in a small way, to hopefully make their life a little better, and they won't ever know I did it. Maybe it was that; I guess I felt better because I wasn't thinking about myself for a whole twenty minutes. 

I don't know. But I feel different today. 

And maybe I'll be able to get over myself and just get out there and help some more people tomorrow. 

Hopefully. I do have a habit of wallowing. 

The burritos were good. Beans and rice only. No cheese; I'm still doing the no meat no dairy thing. I forget why. Oh yeah, it was mostly spite. 

Hey, there's a reason to keep moving forward, and a reason to stop being hung up on what I can't change: Pure spite. 

That'll show....them. I'm not sure who they are exactly, but I can't wait to see their faces when I...keep not eating meat? 

Hmmm I may have gotten a little off-track here. Clearly it's time for bed. I bet I won't even dream of carne asada burritos hardly at all. 

pocket universe

my job is to be your pocket universe 

as you told me one mellow strange evening

to keep and tend all your stars and planets 

And keep track

of all the constellations you invented 

and all the names you gave me 

that have never left your mouth

And your vast collection of books and music

Two sections compete constantly to be the largest:

Your Favorite Books

and

Perfect Last Songs 

Integument Number 42

These scars are a gift

(yes it's maybe not completely healthy

to mix injury as optimism)

I leave my left side unmarked 

Awaiting your next creation. 

I will remain off-balance 

Asymmetrical 

Until then 

(which is not my preference but it's what I'm choosing)

My skin is a canvas of maybes 

A thrill of delight 

There's still so much of me

left for you

The Garden Of Forking Drafts

I imagine the conversation was pretty straightforward. An ultimatum. I don't begrudge you your choice. It's the correct one. 

And then, perhaps, some simple instructions. Something like: No warnings. No clues. No goodbyes. Cut him loose. 

However it happened, it happened quickly. I felt my lifeline go slack, and I tumbled into the void. 

Fortunately, I am naturally pessimistic. In case something went wrong, I had packed a solar-sail, a portable de-aetherization still to make more oxygen, and tucked a multi-tool into my boot. 

I imagine you knew I'd be okay. 

Well, not okay, but that I'd survive. I'm not activating the distress beacon; that might give away your position. 

I always have a plan. Although I admit, this plan is pretty straightforward.

Stay alive, until you can find me.