It's 6.26. I shall carry on with my typical morning routine (of these bleary times). I crawl to the kitchen, psychokinetically peel, de-seed and chop up half an avocado. Continuing during the few morning minutes during which I am a psychokinetic variety of creature, my mind opens a jar of Kalamata olives, a packet of cherry tomatoes and a tub of leafy spinach. They are sliced as if in a universe of knives too thin and sharp to be seen with human vision. The spinach seems to shred itself. All mixes together...
(The first draft of this was written 2021-01-27) So, along with the current daily tea, which happens to be English Breakfast these days, I've selected Popol Vuh's _Letzte Tage - Letzte Nächte_ as this morning's writing music. I've had this album sitting around on one hard drive or another since the mid '00s. I've never once sat and listened to it actively. In fact, the only album that I've listened to actively by Popol Vuh is _In Den Garten Pharoas_, which is incredibly different in style than this one. A ...
(Original draft 2021-02-20. Heavily edited and added to today.) I've just run out of tea. I remedy that by getting up from my half-lotus position and walking from "my" room into the kitchen. I refill the red cup perhaps 4/5 full of Earl Grey. I add Almond Milk. I return to "my" room and resume the half-lotus position. I sip the tea. I contemplate the next paragraph. I shall now carry out those steps. The tea is good. Saturday morning is quiet, as all others are sleeping. It's my preferred state of the wo...
I awoke again at four in the morning. And again, it did not come without a warning. Oouh, baby. After reading a bit and then musing over the newest composition, I consumed breakfast and prepared to go out for a walk. To where did I go? Well, to _Pagan Park, Seminole, Texas_, of course. This is also the name of the composition I am in the middle of. And it is coming along nicely, thank you very much. I had wanted to take my Zoom H5 out with me into the wilds of Seminole for the whole of my stay so far here,...
The trinity tree rises before him. Well, it's not exactly before _him_, but before the pale, fleshy thing he sends out into the ringed desert that unfurls concentrically out from where he has sat, sessile, for centuries. In any case, why should one get up if one has a pale, fleshy thing at one's disposal? He sends the pale, fleshy thing out to the trinity tree weekly. He only perceives it as weekly, of course, as he is still attached to the old ways, the ancient ways, the ways that passed on even long befo...
I awake again at four in the morning. A hair metal band whose name I'll not mention distributed to me (by means of a convoluted series of exchanging hands) a cassette in 1984 that had a song on it claiming that _four in the morning came without a warning_. I was sitting in my first dead grandmother's house, in some sort of _sitting room_ reserved usually only for me, when I first listened to this piece of music (I laughingly call it a piece of music). I disagree with the sentiment. Four in the morning did n...
Despite the very productive and positive initial two months of my stay in Praha, the resultant displacement and depression that followed taught me that I no longer belong there. My primary goal was to _relive_ a portion of my past that, though incredibly fecund with lasting friendships and well-remembered lunacy, in the end, led me down a path of self-destruction. Since my exile in 2009, I became something very different. Yes, my core of positive cynicism remains, as well as my absurd sense of humour, but ...
Lately, mornings have been painful yet fruitful. My early waking insomnia continues. I attempted to go to sleep last night at approximately midnight, and that worked well. I awoke several times during the night with a dry throat and wondered if I'd had too much sugar the day before, but could not recall what would've contained sugar that I'd consumed. I fell back asleep quickly each time. Came 6.30, however, and I knew it was all over. Now I sit in front of **Tahr** (my Cirrus7 _desktop_ PC) and type. I a...
Kenji Kihara weaves a tapestry of sound about the room as I type into an (almost) empty Vim buffer once again. It's been quite a while, or so it seems. The impetus for this entry was actually my joining of a small _Virtual City_ called **Nightfall City**. I sit disconsolate on the moors of **Dusk's End**, or rather, any entry that ends up in my Gemini feed does. Can blog entries be disconsolate? I posit that they can emit a sensation of disconsolateness. I'm not sure this one will achieve such a feat, howev...
My coffee consumption this morning has possibly not been healthy. I can feel the jittery roughness in my mind from over-caffeination. Yesterday was much the same, but from a combination of black tea throughout the day and a _shot_ of Michal's special cold brew coffee. Replacing one addictive substance for another doesn't seem very intelligent. In my case, that'd be replacing alcohol with caffeine. The concept reminds me of Christian and his nicotine gum. I shall limit myself to two _servings_ of caffeinated...
I got what I wanted, after all. And what was that? I got what I wanted - to be alone. And here I sit on the bed in James's guest room, alone with the eidolon who writes words into this online journal. He pops up from time to time, but not as frequently as I'd like. Of course, James is in the other room, so I am not as "alone" as I will be in less than a week when I move to my own flat, and if I really wanted to, I could walk over there and talk to him, but I don't think it'd quell my mental storm. Or perhap...
