#279

That fucking god damn macbook air of mine broke again. Again, for the third time, in the same exact way. But can I blame them, these aesthete hawkers of wares designed for obsolescence? No. Cannot. I possess all of the knowledge and resources to build my own computing device, as any reasonable and capable individual should, and the lazy, concussed choice to purchase a laptop that is too thin from a company I know full well takes advantage of slave labor to build shit designed to break is entirely on me. 

So I very luckily managed to repair the Toshiba on which I began to write this blog in the first place. It's not a safe box in that I fully expect it to wipe its documents constantly, but I suppose if I just keep everything on the cloud and external hard drives for the rest of my life this isn't really a huge problem. What I truly need is the discipline to use it as a blogging box, and basically nothing else. One nice thing about this laptop is that it does not automatically capitalize macintosh products. Also I need to build my own computer, as I have mentioned.

Anyway it hasn't been that big of a deal since I wouldn't have been updating all that much anyway, save the first few days of February. Ezra got his tits yeeted, and the focus has been on recovery, which takes a deal of personal bandwidth from all parties. Emptying the Jackson-Pratt drains was particularly savory. The cats have sympathetically demanded more attention as well. My sleep has not been great. It historically was never great, before weed, and the readjustment to these sober conditions has brought my insomnia back to the fore.

Remembering my dreams on the regular again, though, which...well. It's complicated. I have always suffered from bad nightmares, sometimes recurring, and night terrors, but it's a tradeoff. Dreaming is important. In the end, I deem it preferable to suffer nightmares and wake up with strangled cries in my throat than to only remember twenty-odd dreams a year. If the horror of my nightmares is the price for consistent dreaming, so be it. I've run away from it all for long enough. My oneironautical duties require all the spiritual pressure I can muster, whether I like it or not.

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Yesterday Ezra and I went down to the river and were blessed to meet a great congregation of waterfowl. Alone in our section of the park, we watched mallards, mergansers both common and hooded, canada geese, and mute swans paddle around, play, fight, take to the air, land on the water, dive, rest and waddle on ice, forage the bank right up to to forest floor at our feet, and raise a great heavenly anseriform choir. Beautiful day. 

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Feel a little clumsy on this keyboard and in general on this particular approach to the text field, so I'm gonna call it here. See you tomorrow, or perhaps, even later today. Been thinking about the possibility of Album Week 2022. 

Peace out, FUCKERS

--JL