I wanted to find an answer for myself-- assumed everything would feel better when I could speak an answer without doubts. I probed the voids between stars billions of years old ... Orders of magnitude: 20 years to grow a person, 20,000 accreting a dune, 200,000,000+ to mold and mill-away mountains, 2 billion and more collecting gas into stars. Why? Why anything?
S/he most certainly is a phoenix. S/he's alight but not like a bonfire. The only smoke or steam I can see is from the singed olive leaves, not quite aflame but starting to char. Some embers linger on the ground (are those ruined cactus lobes? blackened egg-shells? glowing droppings?); but nothing catches-- nothing rages.
In this piece of process writing I reflect on something RDJ said at the conclusion of his stint as Ironman/Stark & revisit my "Megaman X Complex" from eight years ago. I blow a lot of steam but at least it's less than 1k words...
The only way I felt comfortable breaking my silence about 'they' was if I found a solution that promised never to hurt nonbinary people but, importantly, I could use to stop the progressive bandwagon from hurtling over a cliff into a snarky abyss. I was taking a shower when it dawned on me. For several minutes I laughed incredulously. This is not a solution that makes me look sophisticated...
5 Reasons *not* to feel bad for feeling *good* about Donald Trump testing positive for COVID19. I'm going to dive right into them:
I surmised grad-school could be my greatest mistake. Sure, I made a wise compromise between prudence and passion. I did well and connected with classmates; it all seems pyrrhic now. My prospects for a job in tertiary education are not great-- I picked a good "truck" but rolled it in a storm: I'm upside-down.
My unconscious mind decided that I needed a "pandemi-ccupation" dream. Two sieges converged on a neutral setting: Cass County Michigan. Dreams happen in present-tense: