i’m walking inside and outside of circles. is there an optimism in that? it’s seasonably sunny, today.
i finished that Scott Walker doc, and enjoyed Argento’s Inferno the other day. Also watched the second Paradise Lost doc, renewing my barely existent interest in the ongoing West Memphis three etc., etc.
i really, really hate attending the zen meditation course i take weekly. i hate chanting and i hate bowing and in this particular context, i hate gongs.
it really doesn’t matter what mitt romney sez on c-span, today. it’s better i go out for a trot.
i’ve turned the page on the day, looking ahead to buffalo mozzarella.
i punched the clock at the ymca and weighted myself down. whether i’ll subsequently submerge or immerse myself with bathing and grooming is an entirely different question, if also a telltale sign. can someone solve a mystery for me? can somebody decode past my symptoms, into my circuits? this is the wrong place for this kind of writing.
further withdrawal. nothing vultured, nothing quenched since my last relay.
i’m thinking a burst of exercise is in order, shortly.
today i have experienced a realm of customer service telephonics that seems like a weird, 21st-century extension of Kafka’s The Castle. (The Castle‘s always been my favorite, for whatever that shit’s worth.)
names and dates.
records lost in the move.
sifting quarters from the change jar.
there’s things i’ve gotten wrong, even as recently as today.
waiting, holding, on the phone. customer support. patience is appreciated.
you can reach out with a telephone. you can imagine swallowing it. and with it, every unwanted iteration of you. maybe.
anybody’s story but mine works fine. too bad they cancelled The Chicago Code, i kinda liked that slop.