Tessellated

Are my days, and the hours and spaces in them. Saw a bunch of art today-at the art museum, no less. And met a Danish Englishman. Held forth and court with fine people, new and old. Yesterday that was. Ignore the grey, there is nothing but grey.

So I'm having a good time, that's the whole and the half of it. It's more complicated than that, but it evens out. Black and white, wounds and clotting quick. I'll post some Escher when I get a chance. It was awesome.

Traveling

Going, going. Ready to go. I've cooked and packed and ruined everything, and with only eight short hours of work between my window and me...

I'm ready to go.

Up to see my family and the geography of my childhood. I grew up in Moscow, moved to Portland when I was 8. This trip reverses that, Portland then Spokane then Moscow and Troy. Stops along the way, too. We are civilized people. But it'll be backwards, my youth upside down and inside out.

I'm hoping I'll get younger.

Themeless

There's a big whiteboard in the breakroom at work. For notes and such. A coworker of mine had been having trouble with his apron being stolen. So he took advantage of the whiteboard, left a note about his trouble. He wrote, in big purple letters...

Stop taking aprons that don't belong to you!

That's fine, right? Nice, to the point. And it had been up for about a day before I decided to adulterate it slightly. I erased "taking" and wrote "the", ending up with...

Stop the aprons that don't belong to you!

Which is also fine, right? It's the sort of thing I'd do at work-I did it quickly, casually, at the start of my day. Because that's what I'd do at work. Out in the world at large too. I make a little trouble. Every pantheon needs a coyote.

Wasn't me, stealing his apron. In case you were wondering.

When I came back later that day, someone else had been at it. They'd made drastic changes. They'd erased all of "that don't belong to you" and had changed "stop" and "aprons". And there was a whole new preamble. The end result was...

Is there no Stopping the Aarons?

Oh. Oh my.

I don't doubt that the rest of you talk/think about me when I'm not there. It must happen. It's still lovely when I get to see the proof.

I've made my pizza with death

Do you ever feel as though everyone you know is dysfunctional, misanthropic, and deaf? Like the world is full of hollow tubes of rotten blood, and you have to navigate their jostling, gelatinous selves without them bursting all over you? Have you ever wanted to take vinegar back in time? To see the wine it might have been?

I'm a mess. Right now. And I've figured that out, and believe that it'll stop being true in the future. I imagine I can wait myself out. But it's not fun for me-I can only imagine it for the rest of you.