So I am researchin' stuff online, goin' round in circles, gettin' nowhere.

Frazzled brain? Blame it on the Googie.

*facepalm*

So I dig out some actual books.

An' while I'm snout-to-spine in 'em, I am prompted to dig through a load of old Me stuff, figure I got a dog-eared magazine hoist from the Tangiblesphere fulla sumthin' useful I can't quite recall right now.

But, hey — a twinge is a twinge.

It's more than the information superhighway got right now.

So then I am knee deep in boxes of crap.

And I cannot find that stoopid magazine.

Brain.

Doubt.

Ugh!

Hate it!

An' now I'm wonderin' whether I kept the stoopid magazine, or whether I even bought it in the first place.

Mebbe I read it someplace else.

Or mebbe

*o fck*

it never existed, an' my frazzled Google-denyin' soul is summonin' spectres into the world from beyond all Virtual Certainty.

(I do not know the answer to that question right now.)

Thing is, while I was sprawled out thumbin' through stuff, I looked in on a coupla old journals.

And some random note leapt up outta nowhere kinda saved my ass.

Where I got to, in my frazzlo, an' what I was thinkin', way back whenever, are blessed with no narrative connecto other than accident, circles.

And what I wrote way back — hey, you know how it is with me: I have no clue what I was tryin' to say.

But this accidental spark from past to present, this inconceivably stoopid twist of stoopid, unstiffed the stuck cog of my enfrazzlement, an' spun me out of what I now see was a nowhereloop.



I guess focus is kinda self-defeatin' beyond a certain point.

Drill down more, an' your lens fixes on only one pixel of the image till there is nowhere smaller or sharper to go, an' your ability to procreate on new stuff kinda invaginates.

So I guess what I am sayin' is that it is Monday mornin' now, an' in our zeal to drill down we kinda go crazy.

But we gotta watch we don't frazzle out.

So, hey, you guys get to Wednesday an' it's like that, mebbe step on back into the Random for succour.

She is the coolest f*cker, the bearer of unintended bounties.

Jus' sayin'.