A tea - or should I say "infusion" - of dandelion, nettle, kelp and dulse.

What about music that you must pause afterwards to think deeply about its deep violence and delivery? Its delivery in a spectacularly shattering way? Even after listening to it myriad times?

One day the younger brood will ask "why is it so compelling? it's just words on paper. there is no stimulus to force my eyes forward into the story".

We. as a collective, approach Frankfurt as if it is a womb.

Since I am rewriting my website & static site generator from scratch in Rust, the meager Nostr implementation is being included in the renovation. Amazing, eh? Right now it only sends messages, however. Though this is immensely exciting, it is not particularly worthy of the praise that the rats gathering around the stubs of my legs give it.

In fact, she did come back. And in fact, she is sitting in front of me and to the left a bit, though facing in a different direction and interacting in a universe distant from my own.

That moment when you told me, as you were taking your cosmetic apparati from the draws and shelves that 'I'm not coming back'.

Some people buy new toys or electronic gadgets or table games or troqueles to fill the emptiness and stagnation that endless routine creates. Others move to the other side of the Earth and begin new and sometimes completely alien routines.

You told me that were we not together, you'd never have another man in your life. That was a few days ago. And this morning - or rather noontime - you leave me suddenly. What am I supposed to feel? How can I feel? HOW THE FUCK CAN I FEEL?

Some people buy new toys or electronic gadgets or table games or troqueles to fill the emptiness and stagnation that endless routine creates. Others move to the other side of the Earth and begin new and sometimes completely alien routines.

Some people buy new toys or electronic gadgets or table games or troqueles to fill the emptiness and stagnation that endless routine creates. Others move to the other side of the Earth and begin new and sometimes completely alien routines.

I fell asleep last night listening to the sound of my receding hearing. Sleeps steals away each of your senses, replacing them each with hallucinations vomited up from an inner rage.

There must be speculative fiction out there considering an alternate reality in which agriculture as we know it did not happen and how "technology" evolved differently.

I've always been gone for a day.

I noticed today that the young boys on skating apparati always move off the sidewalk for incoming walkers. The young girls never do? Telling or cherry-picking?

After violently wresting seeds from avocados, I'd toss them onto the wooden floor for Molly to chase, bat about and ultimately lose in one of the shadowed rincones of the Logroño flat.

Each living human awakes alone, the last human on earth. Actually, each human has been placed in a separate "parallel universe". The borders between these universes are thinner than we are used to.

When using the bathroom at the optometrist and noticing the sign that reads "Do not flush feminine products", I had a vision of an old man furiously flushing again and again a toilet in which was a teenage girl's severed head.

I have a patch bay for my emotions.