My Stuff
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
My Stuff
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
My Stuff
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
My Stuff
There was a moment there, while I was cooking, a moment where grief crept up on me. I wasn’t expecting it. It was suddenly very unfair. I had done all of this work, I had endured all of this pain, I had corrected myself, but I still lost it,
My Stuff
I went looking for a word to name the Donna Haraways of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, a word inclusive of cyberfeminists and transhumanists, a word that captures the theft of cyborg identity, and mocks the thieves a bit. I call them tryborgs. They have tried to be
My Stuff
I think maybe I wanted to note that I feel like I made it through this time, but the thing is, I didn’t take the monotropic tunnel. I thought it would be a lot of letting go of the rope, but I had tied that in my mind to
My Stuff
LDYFLSH GOLFART License plates I saw today. I was hoping for a third to complete the set, but it never showed.
My Stuff
Part of squaring the circle is coming back into the world. To be honest, it’s been really quiet here. The boys were here a lot over the summer, but now school’s back in session, and there are more hours to fill. I’ve been trying to find something
My Stuff
My Stuff
My Stuff
While I appreciate the cartographer’s attention to detail, I doubt knowing exactly where True North is will come up when fleeing the ninth floor.
Autism
I wrote some blog posts yesterday; one was accidentally a “it gets better” post, while the other was about coding. They’re both sitting in drafts up on Wordpress, waiting for me to finish them up. The it gets better one was supposed to be about writing on the blog,