Flotational helplessness. Is that a thing? It’s certainly a sensation I’m experiencing. I’m sure everyone on the continent can appreciate it.
I’m growing more hopeful about everything as we progress. Real change takes time, and I’m genuinely hoping for real, tangible change.
I’m not saying I didn’t reach for my ESDs (Emotional Support Doritos) when they called Florida. And my stomach is still tied in a knot – I wouldn’t blame the Doritos for that, though, I didn’t have a lot of them.
I feel like my spiritual energy has shifted perhaps 15 degrees off of whatever constitutes my metaphysical “axis,” as it were. Not quite attached to my corpus. Not quite conscious of the world around me. Not quite tasting the Doritos.
It was all terribly troubling as it unfolded. I couldn’t make it through my French lesson. Incidentally, I’m studying French, because they don’t run the blueprints for the Canadian Escape Hatch in English. Also, all of the measures are metric. This can only improve my robot plans.
It’s time to progress on my robot army, win or lose. Assemble the exact-o knives and the wood glue. I’m looking forward to progressing on this project – the long term goal is to develop a portable buddy with an on-board cooler and a digital projector in his head. I’m calling it R4-20. I have no subtlety.
Isn’t it NaNoWriMo? If I have to predict a word cloud of topics and themes, it would probably include screaming, sepia tones, horizons obscured by a dense haze, contagion, personal sanitation suits, the planet of Tattooine, and some kind of chocolate fountain. Maybe we’re looking at a Willy Wonka prequel. Maybe I’m just desperate for a hint of inspiration, and maybe a gram of energy to put toward bringing it to fruition. We’ll see how things go. We’ll see how a lot of things go.