The happy sounds of the boys playing together, loud, high-pitched yawlps of joy, clashing with the tinny voice from my wife’s FaceTime call with her best friend, and I’m pacing in the kitchen, unable to find an eye of calm between two sensory storms.
There are periods of history when the visions of madmen and dope fiends are a better guide to reality than the common-sense interpretation of data available to the so-called normal mind. This is one such period, if you haven’t noticed already. –Robert Anton Wilson
As a rule we disbelieve all the facts and theories for which we have no use. –William James
I’m apparently writing. I ate some food late, and while I was cooking, I was pacing. I was thinking, I was writing. I seem to burning a little brightly right now; that may explain the frustration. I guess. I’m not sure about that, but maybe the burning somehow
It was a long bad day. I was going to write today. It had such promise at the start. Ideas were just bubbling through, and for some reason the wind has shifted. I write all the time, but it’s for me, for my journal. I have to fight to
