But what else am I, aside from a federal inmate? Not a single unified consciousness, that's for *damn* sure. Once upon a time I discovered that I could think pretty thoughts, and I went around lost in my own head. Then I went to college and found that I could be a social butterfly, and I never slept and everyone knew my name, and when the years were over I had memories of diamond and grades of coal. Now I'm finding out that I can do high-powered things if I pay a high-powered cost. What's the saying? When one door opens, a hundred close?! Fuck you Alexander Graham Bell!
Moving, however slowly, to California, and taking everyone else with me.
Miyazaki. Dune. Being so cold it aches, then getting into a hot shower. People with Actual Fucking Enthusiasm. Fight Club. Grand Budapest Hotel. Taking off in a plane. Thinking about what I’ll be like to be future-me thinking about past-me thinking about present-me. Indian / Thai / Ethiopian food. Crooked Still. Watchmen (the graphic novel not the movie). House of Cards. Tuxedo cats and Bernese Mountain Dogs. The elegance of things that make sense, the whimsy of things that don’t, and the secret that they’re really the same.
Red pandas make me go squee.
Update: apparently so do baby squirrels.
The next step.