No bigs… aaCause there ‘bout to be.

The men of the mind aren’t hiding in Galt’s Gulch, they are wasting away in their rooms.

What doesn’t break your ribs leaves you with stronger abdominals.

Last time I was like this Susan helped me explain to her how I wasn’t manic.

Some things just stick.

I would rather wear a Kota than a parka.

Cats and dogs appear unbothered by nosebleeds.

I reverse selfies for accuracy and get annoyed every time that this is handled for me.

Mindfulness can be faked until made.

Fuck me, subconscious labeled the last two days The Nosebleed Sessions and the goddamn ink was indelible. He kinda reminds me of Loki, now he’s grown up a bit.

Hit anyone with enough iron and they’ll develop a taste for blood.

When you thought you’d stopped the bleeding but it only switched sides.

There appears to be a number-of-bowls-in-the-order / worth-counting-out-the-spoons value at play in gig work that I’m still working to ascertain.

Okay, now I kind of want to replace the text on my about page with some sum-of-posts pseudo code.

When you wonder if you have squandered your potential or surpassed it, leaving it lying around somewhere while you pondered whether transcribing and showing it to anybody would be worth the bother.

When y♂̸u ch♂̸ke it d♂̸wn and m♂̸ve ♂̸n because y♂̸u have an ace in the h♂̸le.

When you wonder how you might explain to yester ☾𐂂 that fourty-fuck-if-I’m-doing-the-math ☾𐂂 is gonna feel sad because everyone he knew would eventually stop watching him grow.

When you wonder if anyone is watching you grow; because, if you blink … you miss it.

When you wonder what a ☾𐂂 would use that influence for.

When you wonder how many local minds a ☾𐂂 might be able to influence from the balcony of a turn-around-in-me driveway.

It’s like knowing a yawn is coming but its arrival is taking goddamn forever.

Wait, now y’all actin’ like the soft landing is some svelte maneuvering? More like shooting a hole through your foot and letting it heal over.

4 (𓀐𓂸) + 🍶

Or at least that’s what my counselor keeps telling me.

It feels kinda f$&ked that folks would read my posts if I curated and printed them out as a book.

Malformed logic is all but guaranteed when one’s subconscious can delete out of existence (without your knowledge) any event that threatens to change one of your settings that requires a reboot to take effect if you aren’t even attempting to actively guard your data from that little f$&ker. GIGO