Today was fun. It's my birthday. I know nobody gets what they really want, and I have accepted that I'm probably not going to be given a capybara as a surprise gift. It's for the best. They're social creatures, and if I got one then it would be cruel of me not to get many, many more.

Also I'm not sure they could fit through the doggy door. 

Guillermo-9, Fate-27

At least it's not a total blowout. 

Everyone needs an unfinished song, somewhere they have to be at a certain time, and a question that needs to be researched. 

I think. I forget. 

I feel...un-encircled. 

Goodnight!

autumn pulses in my chest

In my probably incorrect understanding of how the human brain works, most of our processing is happening below our level of attention. I think of a rolling thunderstorm. A thought is more like a lightning bolt, a moment of connection between positive and negative charges. When I think I'm forming a spontaneous sentence in my head, it's the result of the tension between my experience of the external environment, and the frothy cafe mocha that is my sense of self. 

But honestly I try not to think about that too much. 

rockabilly past my bedtime

Rockabilly music on the radio (streaming platform algorithm). Hundreds of dollars of ink in my skin. Or rather, trapped in the belly of a great white macrophage. White blood cells forever trying to eat the pigment and die trying. Ours is not to reason why. 

Had a lot to do today. Got a lot to do tomorrow. Sleep would be wise but this time feels like mine and I want to wrap it around me. 

(This isn't really a brains kind of operation.)

Trying to drive to the stars. 

There is a journey ahead, I think. The road calls me. Sends text messages. Somehow slipped into my calendar app and schedules clandestine meetings in ghost towns and gold mines. 

I have no business there anymore. The cardinal directions retired and now it's all geographic coordinate systems and left turns into traffic. 

I'm cozy now; and the whir of the fan covers up the sounds of chewing.

Friday the 13th

Technically yesterday, but I don't consider a day over until I've slept. 

There was no bad luck. Not near me anyway. I got a little sleepy around midday but that's normal. 

There are so many adventures going on; the bad luck must be too busy to find me. 

It's also because, like the majestic capybara, I do not behave like prey. I stride boldly and foolishly out into the world, and pretend I know exactly where I'm going, and Fate hardly notices. 

Fate looks for those who are lingering at thresholds, trying to tiptoe between two worlds, and grappling with grand choices. That's where Fate likes to reach out and tip things one way or the other, like a cat when it sees a glass of water. 

I don't actually know why I escape notice. Maybe I just look like a puddle. 

Tree Rings

I've been thinking about tree rings. Annual growth rings that are thicker and thinner depending on how good or how difficult the year. 

Metaphorically this should be a slam dunk but I'm just not feeling it right now. 

Middle of the day

It's the middle of the day and I'm thinking of you and how you'd probably say it's a bad idea to keep ostriches for the sole purpose of making giant omelettes out of their eggs because yeah the eggs are much bigger but regular chickens lay eggs more frequently so you get more eggs overall from the chicken, and also if a chicken are not able to unleash a sudden axe kick into your balls. 

Well maybe some of the fancier chicken breeds might be able to, but not nearly as hard as a 200-pound ostrich. 

I guess you're right.