Stunning sunset tonight. I tried to frame this as though the lantern itself was looking out at the evening rays.

To this I have to say: Stoicism is all well and good when you don’t have to worry about it running up your trouser leg.

I have been up all night worrying about such and whatnot and it cumulated with a mouse in the house. A quick agnostically driven search of what to do with two odd years of hard luck— whether for ways to cope or someone to shout at —brought me to Zeno of Citium.

Confidentiality, Glasgow style.

OMG I had to check my work emails regarding an extra case in court tomorrow and I've just read this from an HR person. "on a knee to nose basis" A KNEE TO NOSE BASIS 😳

🤣

Mildly amusing metaphysical/sociological conundrum- I have twice now been asked in two completely different towns and social settings if my backdrop/profile picture/shirt / [insert other relevant memento here] is ‘𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴.’ If this happens once more I might Keel over.

It’s strange. Having maintained a long attention span in a world that seems to hurry along. I wonder what Time has to say about that. I wonder- not just who I am -but of the myriad of souls reflected around me and where we all begin. Shapeshifters the lot of us. At least… that’s one angle. ~B. E.

Years- well years are always fickle. They’re the caloric intake of continuities measurements. I’ve yet to meet a person of any age who’s seen a year last as long as it’s supposed to. Do I have a point to this little muse? My solitary late night pillow talk. Or do I merely run from the shadows?

The older I get the more I feel we really 𝘥𝘰 live this thing backwards. A world that seemed so clear to me once as a child can hardly be counted on anymore. And I do mean counted on. For the first 25 years or so an hour lasts an hour and a week is a week.

‘Continuminium’ I’ve started calling it. A barely perceptible bender of realities. A gentle tug across the veil. I stretch the sky black putty of Time again, willing it to give its answers.

Overlaying it all is the rubbery elasticity of Time that I occasionally take out to stretch and toy with. As the putty of the mind goes the only thing that tops it is a little blue oblong whose glow I sometimes see on the edge of my dreams. A gateway across the worlds.

I’m able to observe the jagged edges of Fear. The curved overlooping shrouds of Guilt that come in a blackish morphing grey. The red sparks of righteous Anger at an upturned world. The wobbly glazed window haze of Injustices Witnessed. The quivering gold harp strings of Anticipation and Ecstasy.

I’m having one of those nights of perpetual fascination that is the enemy of sleep. The flashbacks new and old rear their hydras heads fighting for dominance. Yet it’s not all bad.