mood crashed again

after a couple of days of feeling better I’m feeling iffy again. I think I’ll force myself out of the house to go to a farmer’s market up at Brentwood this morning. Jeff hasn’t shown any interest in going, so I’ll suit up and take the bus, since it’s just one hop.

The pumpkins and the two surviving sunflowers are doing well, and I did get some carrots.  Everything else in my garden sucks because you have to water things. My mOm knows about how to get things to grow but I’m forgetful and lazy and those are two things a farmer cannot be.

Five hundred words on the fanfic. Inexperienced character is being exposed to ETOH, hijinks ensue. (ETOH means al k hall)

Image Erica Henderson, Eisner-winning artist, made this

@ericafails on twitter

THE US IS A FAILED STATE

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Looking Inside Myself, 2002, carved whalebone by Susie Silook, artist of Siberian Yupik, Inupiaq descent

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Rogers, 2012, Post Gazette

Rob Rogers was fired from the Post Gazette in 2018 because all mainstream media outlets in the US are owned by right wing oligarchs

ah the good old days – open in a new tab and it should be (just barely) readable.

featured-1918-pandemic-1597264987762.jpg

batman go slap

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I literally slept all day yesterday, and then slept the usual amount at night. I’ve either got trypanosomiasis or I’m sickening with something or I’m depressed, and how would I know. I do know that I sleep to get away from my allergies, and the pollen count right now is higher than Cheech and Chong.

 

One of my fave Gorillaz song with a marble machine mashup.

current mood GARBAGE TRUCK BREAKS HYDRAULIC LINE kabooom

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google earth image of Mongolian rivers

My name in Ascii font ‘Graffitti’

   _____  .__  .__                              
  /  _  \ |  | |  |   ____   ________________   
 /  /_\  \|  | |  | _/ __ \ / ___\_  __ \__  \  
/    |    \  |_|  |_\  ___// /_/  >  | \// __ \_
\____|__  /____/____/\___  >___  /|__|  (____  /
        \/               \/_____/            \/ 
     __________.__              __    __        
     \______   \__|__  __ _____/  |__/  |_      
      |       _/  \  \/ // __ \   __\   __\     
      |    |   \  |\   /\  ___/|  |  |  |       
      |____|_  /__| \_/  \___  >__|  |__|       
             \/              \/                 
   _________.__                                 
  /   _____/|  |   ____   _____ _____    ____   
  \_____  \ |  |  /  _ \ /     \\__  \  /    \  
  /        \|  |_(  <_> )  Y Y  \/ __ \|   |  \ 
 /_______  /|____/\____/|__|_|  (____  /___|  / 
         \/                   \/     \/     \/
800000 infected as of this morning

I am so fucking terrified

I am having trouble marshalling my thoughts and I’m having a hard time telling my physical from my emotional sensations.

I don’t want to leave the house, but we’re going to go shopping.

I don’t want to make someone else sick. The winnowing fan hasn’t come close yet and I don’t want it to. I want to walk a golden path through this because I deserve it. I want to catch it to burn off my sins. I want to catch it to spare ones that I love, as if the virus knows that kind of math.

The math of dreams and denial; the math of a sick thought burning a furrow through my nerves.

I need sugar, and flour, and toilet paper, and I don’t know what we’re going to find at the store.

 

8:23 am – we shopped during the old people’s hour, and it was okay, but there is no sugar, no flour and no toilet paper.

from the Nib today…. this