I've had a strange schedule lately, too little sleep and no calendar to speak of. I enjoy the novelty of not knowing what day it is, appreciate being out of step and the loop where time is concerned (time is space is time...). But I like sleep, dammit. It's wonderful, rejuvenating. So today, I've been catching up with my unconscious self.
I don't dream. Generally-there are exceptions, of course. Like with anything. But I don't dream. You knew that already.
So today's a day for me, a day with myself. It's been good-used my portable metacortex, which I've been meaning to describe for a while. It's great, really. A matte black magic wand, a tiny monolith to hold up to the other house apes, move us along. It is empowering, a second-or-third step towards the technocracy that's coming. The future's like the sea-it's rising, and those of us that can swim have to keep the rest of us from drowning. Ask me about the dog-paddle.
I did laundry at 7AM, was accosted by a Jehovah's Witness. His name was Cameron. He was well coiffed, wore a nice suit and a pocketwatch. Copy of the Watchtower in his hand, and what looked like a well-worn bible. We talked for about half an hour. I did most of the talking.
I took two naps, one in the sun in my front yard, the second only a few hours later safe in bed, cool and comforted by my white noise fan. I just made dinner, slap-dash casserole. I have had a good day.
