dry desert nights, unrelenting memories, warm sleepy time tea, 2 mg of melatonin.

A cool cave like environment, blue screen, no screen, sunscreen. Hot sandy sand. The waves rumbling. The best sleeps on the sand. To count the sleepless nights I must credit my vivid imagination that yields no fruit. MY constant tormenter and collaborator.

The stars move from left to right across the sky as I tumble and squirm inside the metal box. The glass windows provide a nice viewing of the night constellation that the tent can not.

Is my anhedonia becoming worse? I cancel spotify because the last 3 months I have listened exclusively to the “little log lady” playlist of fire sounds. Even the rain and storm tracks sound too rehearsed.

When is the last time you became lost? in thought, making a thing, being part of something larger than yourself?

i’m calculating the minimum hours i need to work in order to sustain my tortoise lifestyle. it’s great. since i can always reschedule my meetings there’s no hard commitments.

i imagine once i hit the dirt, my writing will dwindle. tortoises don’t have (opposable thumbs, language, a desire to blog).