56ºF, clear-ish: monitor + keyboard riser + Obsidian + ipad + Muse + standing desk + pen and paper = a winning combo, a dance between different elements, between different phases and sides, etc etc, all coming together for the final whatever-it-ends-up-as. In theory, anyhow.

Post-great-aunt-funeral haze continues: a combo, I think, of too much socializing and of too much telling the story of how my mother died (thanks for not wanting an obit: now I have to explain to everyone that you're dead when they ask – I swear, if more had asked how I was or if I needed help when you were alive, I mightve been possessed of if not a different set of emotions then at least more qualified ones) mixed with a general dissatisfaction of current path and no clear modification to vary it.

Staring at Twitter, my fourteen years of it, and I have no clue – other than a general pervasive addiction and hope that somehow something will materialize from it (meaning that my buying into the hook/line has become learned and habitual) – just what the hell I'm doing there: have to learn to be content with toiling here in my own little corner of the ether of indifference. Working on it.