i meditated this morning

 

briefly imagined that timothy olyphant was on westworld

 

homemade tacos for dinner and having successfully selected the rare salsa that d enjoys eating chips with, after carefully and lengthily perusing the available salsas to try to solve that problem

 

d just looked outside and said "the moon looks really full"

 

 

i thought something was not possible, then i found a customer saying they had done it, then i tried to do it myself and it wasn't possible, and what did that mean about the concept of truth

 

the hot water heater was being weird again and so i very quickly rinsed the smelliest parts of my post-workout body this morning, hating everything, but then at lunch i was washing dishes and i felt the hot water come in and i ran to the bathroom and got a hot shower

 

this week's episode of the walking dead, which was like a weird game of thrones cosplay

 

there was a new oj simpson episode of you're wrong about, the best podcast series

 

nicole byer, one of the few podcasters who d and i both really like, and her star wars podcast with lauren lapkus

 

i sliced the old bananas into thin chips and froze them on parchment paper and then ate them

 

knowing that i could edit, but then not editing (and then editing, in a different way (and then again)(and it is five minutes later now and again))

 

this desire to always record everything, giving in to it (first i wrote "giving into it") and also never (because impossible) fully giving in to it (into it)

 

this found prose poem, from the gmail general settings menu: