Week 47 of 2025
itās very late and iām lying to the blog about the time because i donāt remember if it handles it correctly when the week is on the wrong day. it probably does and i think iām misremembering something misconfigured long ago on some wordpress and emacs org-mode setup from another lifetime.
thereās an episode of clarissa explains it all where she says āIāve seen the future of poetry and its name is PC Poemā. she gets the computer (a āmulti-megabyte mindā) to write her one.
āwhy wrack my brain when i can let the computer wrack its hard drive?ā
she types in some words.
the computer computes.
it prints something out.
her and sam just cannot decide if itās the worst thing theyāve ever read or if itās, like, pretty good.
after contemplation she decides it feels like cheating, not like writing, and it seems like she might throw it away.
wave or squeeze? like kat hepworth, nokia 3210, fastest coldest texting fingers in bow street. program your own ring tone. winnie the pooh and the blustery day. snugglepuss or rabbit, and everyone in the shop heard about it too. disappear with no goodbye when itās time to go, just slip away when no oneās looking. on the bridge when the dark night gets darker, orange light all shining off the water.
and i met astrid who also likes ladybirds and there were two foxers wearing necklaces made of dental floss and shoe clips and then it was 2am and i felt so lucky again and now itās 4am and iām looking at my notes and they seem so sad and strange and unbefitting. i hope i wake up soon. i hope itās another one like the other one.
and thereās another thing that never did exist before, and itās with us now. and itās been a long week. and every day as well. long weeks and short months. did i tell you that i got IDād buying a can of red bull? she said sheād not believe āin a million yearsā that i was over 25. one of the top 19 highlights of my week. another was a tweet. another was ātreat of a lifetimeā. and alex doesnāt like it when trees grow arbitrarily in unexpected situations ā like jack and the beanstalk. we laughed until we cried. it was a thousand years ago. maybe it is time to let go