Saturday, March 19
"well the universe is shaped just exactly like the earth
if you go straight long enough you wind up where you were"
Woke up this morning from looping dreams of log daemons and data stores to a late-season cold. My whole body hurts and my head is full of obscurity (or perhaps phlegm; it's hard to tell the difference). I'm told it is nice outside, and on the evidence this seems to be true, but I am not inclined to treat it as actionable information.
I've spent probably 5 of the last 10 years living in basements. There's that sense of the same moment lived over and over again in sitting here watching the late-afternoon sun slant through ceiling-level windows.