November 15th, 2022. Recovery.
I’m having a slow recovery from NERFA. Brain is slow moving, body is slow moving. My memory is scattered and my eyes are heavy. I’d looked forward to sleeping in
October 31st, 2022. Bad dreams.
Last night I dreamt that I was planning my death. Suicide, assisted, messy. I had someone ready to shoot me. I don’t remember why. The clock on my Life had
October 30th, 2022. Remember when?
My memory is a strange, horrible, broken thing. We sit at the end of the night and watch my screensaver flick back and forth through scenes that only go back
October 30th, 2022. Good dreams.
I was dreaming about a new apartment. It was amazing. Sprawling. It has an oubliette of all things, but the rest of it was standard post-modernist sprawl. Too acoustically Live
October 27th, 2022. Art art art.
I wrapped up the last of my Black Doll Maker interviews today… well… I mean – I wrapped EDITING the interviews. I wish I could claim actually conducting the interviews.
October 26th, 2022. Pause.
Happy Wednesday. It’s grey as grey can be, but that strange cotton-ball-lit-from-outside grey that seems to dull the noise of the Beltway so that all that fills the house is
October 17th, 2022. Snot.
Below is some fascinating spam courtesy of Phoenix SEO. The Journal is getting absolutely HAMMERED right now with spam comments, but at least this one was truly fascinating. Hints of
October 10th, 2022. AF.
Today started off strangely, beautifully calm. I had a morning meeting in which I laid a couple of things out including a projected problem with one individual person, I received
September 11th, 2022. 9/11.
Today is September 11th, and though we’re off into the rain to play a gig in the Inner Harbor amongst fighter jets (flyover’s canceled) and ships (most sailing is canceled),
August 31st, 2022. Delicious Ketchup.
Saturday August 26th we woke up at Greg Klyma’s place and, since our gig in Sharon MA had been canceled, we just headed home. This turned out NOT to be