It behooved me to make the pun

Quick story time.

The building I work in has a ton of meeting rooms. Like, eight+ on every floor. They’re all different, some have AV capabilities, some have frosted windows, they all fit different numbers of people. They have all manner of thematic designs. Right by my desk there’s a meeting room. Part of our team has meetings there often. It’s also surrounded by entirely clear glass. From my desk I can usually see what’s going on. Today I was returning from the bathroom and peered in on my way past. I stopped. On screen there was some kind of presentation. It had a picture of a centaur, and said something involving the word “Spokescentaur”. I had no idea who the woman conducting the meeting was, but I looked at her, shut my eyes and shook my head. She quirked her head to the side, confused, and I walked off.

20 seconds later I returned with a piece of paper that read “Spokesmane is catchier” and held it to the glass, standing there with an entirely straight face. I waited about ten seconds, saw everyone laughing, and went back to my desk without saying a word. Someone from my team who was in the meeting said that the woman loved it, took my criticism to heart, and is going to change the wording. The woman also suggested that I sit in on the meetings in case I have any other ideas. So that was my today weirdness.

I actually left the house last night. It was a big deal. Last Thursday I woke up thinking it was Valentines Day. It wasn’t, but I went out and caught up with a friend. She told me about this emo anti-valentines gig she was going to. A couple of local bands getting together to do tribute sets of five songs. Sounded kinda fun. In my teens/early 20s being anti-emo was kind of a big part of my identity. As an adult, I don’t really care. I’m not into emo, as such, but I am into themed events. There were gonna be four sets: Dashboard Confessional, Coheed and Cambria, Paramore and Death Cab for Cutie. I don’t like Dashboard, I’m indifferent to Paramore, but I listened to a ton of Coheed/Death Cab in my 20s. It was enough to get me to leave the cosy confines of home. I ransacked my girlfriend’s makeup collection to get black eyeliner. I was a theatre kid, I’ve used eyeliner pencil before. However, the only black eyeliner she had was liquid eyeliner and I was way out of my depth. It looked like trash. My hand wasn’t steady enough and I had zero idea what I was doing. With the experiment considered a failure, I wiped it all off and left the house.

The gig was fun. I had no interest in seeing the Dashboard set, but I did need to get there early to grab one of the few remaining tickets. I bought my ticket, then peeled off to a craft beer bar for a few pints. By the time I returned, the Coheed set was just about to begin. They had a female lead singer, and she totally killed it. Claudio Sanchez (the Coheed lead singer) has a very distinct voice, and she nailed it to a T. I’d seen Coheed at my last ever Kool Haus gig (before the venue was tragically shut down), and their set brought back fun memories. Some dude behind me lost his shit and sang along to every line. It was swell. I skipped most of Paramore to get another beer, but profusely enjoyed hearing Death Cab songs again. This time, I was the dude losing my shit and singing along to every line. The whole tribute thing was neat. I know there are a bunch of bands who do it around town (there’s Radiohead, Tool and Rage Against The Machine at least), so maybe I should be heading out to more of them. It wouldn’t kill me to leave the house once in a while.

But not tonight. Tonight is for me, a rack of ribs and an internet full of possibilities.


That, my friends, is how we do a shameless plug

For a change, I’m worn the fuck out.

It was totally non-intentional. I had zero plans last night, then made the last minute switch to have plans. See, it all began when I woke up thinking it was Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t, but it was hard to shake the feeling. I was like is there any way to lean into this unnecessary delusion? I looked up some events and saw that there was a Bumble pre-Valentine’s mixer happening. Free drinks, all you needed was a Bumble account. I thought back to when I got really into dating podcast Why Oh Why? The host went to a couple of events and they sounded fun/silly.

I was borderline interested, but then thought back to that time I installed Bumble. It was sub-optimal. I swiped and swiped, often coming across friend’s accounts. Each and every one of those friends had stopped using the platform, so it turned out I was scrolling through what were likely endless dead accounts. Or maybe that’s what I told myself to feel better about my lack of matches. Who knows? My thumb still gets phantom pain from all the swiping. I figured I was better to stay home and have a low key night. The cat has been incredibly fussy lately, noisy at night. A decent sleep would do me wonders. I went home for a quiet night.

Around 9pm, I saw that one of my friends was attending the event. I was not dressed, I hadn’t eaten dinner and leaving the house was probably not in my best interests. We chatted, she said to come along, and if it was a total bust we could just grab a drink. I hadn’t been out all week, so I figured why not be adventurous, y’know? I hastily made dinner, showered and concurrently pre-drank. I ordered an Uber and managed to get there for 10pm. Real feat, that. I walked in the door and saw my friend standing there. It was loud, very loud. I seriously wondered about my ability to hold a conversation. It’s basically the only tool I have in my arsenal. “We have to leave immediately” my friend whispered. With no questions, I did a 180 and we grabbed her coat, then left. I figured that her judgement had always been impeccable, so if she said we needed to leave, we did. We walked to a Liberty Village craft beer bar and grabbed a table.

Adroitly, she pointed out the issue with the dating app party. On these apps, you have the benefit of relative anonymity. Creeps can’t message you because of the filters. You’re protected somewhat. When you go to a dating app party it’s kind of like going to a regular bar, but there are no pretentions of what people are there for and EVERYONE IS THIRSTY. It’s goddamn oppressive. It sounded less than ideal, and from the two minutes I spent there I already didn’t like it. Having left and gone to a craft beer bar, however, we didn’t have those problems. We just had good beer. I even ordered a cheesecake. It was gas.

It was fucking great to catch up, and I can’t imagine the kind of time I could’ve had at the party that would’ve been better. She’s a top notch human, and conversation has always been incredibly easy. So easy, in fact, that by the time we’d had two beers and settled up the tab, it was later that we thought. Look, we hadn’t checked our phones, but how the hell does it just BECOME 1am? On a school night, no less. We hurriedly got out of there and gapped it to the bus. I got home and the cat still hadn’t been fed. She was all kinds of ornery (not really, she was just loud. I think that’s her natural state). I fed her and managed to get into bed for 2am. The cat was not ready for bed. Throughout the night, in very regular intervals she started caterwauling and scratching at the door. Again and again. My earplugs were long since worn out, so I just suffered, maybe managing all of 3.5 hours sleep. I’ve been half past dead today, and no amount of coffee has been able to exhume me.

Tonight I have very deliberate plans of zero plans. Maybe I can actually follow through this time.

And I ordered these from Amazon. I will sleep someday.

Not even a medium-rare drafter

Magic the Gathering themed post. If that’s not your kind of thing, come back tomorrow.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy. It’s draftin’ time.

As a free to play-er on Magic Arena, my drafting habits are entirely at the whim of Wizards. I got kinda bored of Guilds of Ravnica. Maybe it was mostly that green was shafted, with both Selesnya and Golgari turning out to be massively lacklustre. I like drafting green, y’know? So with Ravnica Allegiance on the horizon (and a total lack of gems), I took time off drafts. I wasn’t gonna waste my time on Core Set 2019 or Ixalan when I could bank a bunch of gold for Allegiance drafts. Of course, Allegiance (thanks Magic, I now know how to spell that word) was behind a paywall of sorts for the first while. I could merely window shop while all the pros streamed their drafts, staring longingly at all the fun they got to have. I saved up about 40,000 gold through incidental daily rewards and eagerly awaited Allegiance coming to Ranked Draft. The wait is over. Allegiance is out and I eagerly dived in headfirst yesterday. Here’s how my drafts have gone so far.

As a disclaimer, I shamelessly rare draft so I can build up my collection for constructed. My decks aren’t always amazing, ’cause I’m passing good cards for rares. I’ve come to terms with it, I hope you can too.

Here was my first draft. I first picked a Biogenic Ooze and went to town. Kinda. I got stuck in a lacklustre Temur build, mostly because I got confused and didn’t know what to play. I ended up more Simic with a red splash. There was no way I was gonna let the machine gun of Bolrac-Clan Crusher and Biogenic Ooze go to waste. It was clunky. I got stuck on land once or twice, and my creatures weren’t of high quality. I would’ve taken every single Sauroform Hybrid that came my way, but I failed to get any. I was lucky enough to draw Biogenic Ooze a ton, and won most games it came down. It usually let me stabilise if my opponent wasn’t on the mono fliers plan. One of my opponents had a sick play with Priest of Forgotten Gods and Undercity Embrace, forcing me to get rid of both oozes while I was tapped out. Well played, good game. I think I got to three wins? I dunno, I was sorta drunk.

My second draft is lost to the ages. I came back at 2am after a night of drinking and decided that drafting was a smart call. I ended up with a terrible Orzhov deck that lacked fliers or payoffs. I think I first picked a Pitiless Pontiff and proceeded to not remotely build around it. My removal sucked. I think I had 5 Noxious Groodions and a few Viskopa Vampires, so I was on Team Three Drop. This couldn’t have been more accurate, ’cause I played three games, lost them all and dropped out. Zero wins, but still fun to try. Don’t draft drunk and expect to dominate.

This afternoon I got my first taste of Azorius. Bant? I splashed for Guardian Project, because the card seems absurd. I ended up lacking a full complement of playables, once again because of my shameless rare drafting. Still, when I wasn’t mana screwed (drew an inspirational amount of 2 land hands), the deck went off. Lots of evasion, plus High Alert shenanigans. I’m still pretty medium on Justiciar’s Portal, but it worked here. It’s fantastic with Faerie Duelist and Forbidding Spirit. Being able to flash reduce an opposing creature’s power or slow their tempo worked wonders to keep me in the game. Best of all, it counted for Guardian Project, so I got to be greedy with cards. One game I curved from High Alert into Guardian Project, but my opponent had Bolrac-Clan Crusher and Sharktocrab. I managed to buy time with the aforementioned Forbidding Spirit and Faerie Duelist shenanigans, then pull out combat tricks/bounce to get ahead. It was very fun, tight Magic and I played the game incredibly well, which I rarely do. Sphinx of Insight is also obviously dumb, the scry 3 is a big boost at the start of the game, and a 4/4 flyer for 4 is tight tight tight. Even if it’s not gonna make waves in constructed. Azorius Skyguard was an excellent curve topper, and made combat very tough for opponents.

Here’s my current deck in progress. I once again shamelessly rare drafted, but ended up with something workable. I had too many playables, for once. I’d love to do well with it, but I’d also be quite satisfied with just one game where Biomancer’s Familiar or Simic Ascendancy enable dumb plays. Not pictured are the Deputy of Detention, Seraph of the Scales and Gruul Spellbreaker I picked for other decks. I’ve played one game and it was ruthless. Fingers crossed it keeps up the pressure.

Anyway, it’s high time I try to see how well I can do with it. Later sk8r boi.

If they ask “which generation?”, they’re a keeper

I’m sure it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this, but there was a thread on fun first date stuff you’d want to do. I put together some ideas.

Oh wow, I love this question.

I’m big into spending hours chatting, eating tasty things, doing activities or some combination of the above. First dates I’ve wanted to do (but haven’t yet):

  • Both of you come prepared with a list of Speed Dating style questions (Which movie could you live in? What pokémon would you start with?) then go back and forth.
  • That 36 Questions thing, trite as it is, does make for great in-depth conversation.
  • Both of you come prepared with Scavenger Hunt style things you want to do (find a green alcoholic drink, shout PENIS in a public place), then work through the list together.
  • If you both have metro/day passes, blind pick a number of stops, then go to those spots, find something to do at each of those spots and take a photo together at those spots. Then make a photo collage of your day spent together to keep as a memento.
  • Have a budget (like $10-$20), go to an op shop and buy each other outfits within that budget, then go out for a meal at some fun divey place.
  • I mean, anything divey is great. Toronto comic Jordan Foisy wrote this excellent article where he went to a shitty bar, ordered a drink and asked someone there what the worst bar in Toronto was, then went to that bar and repeated the process. I’d love to do this as a date.
  • Look, I like cheap drinking. Having a bunch of drinks then going out to a fun dance party (Beam Me Up, Chronologic, etc) sounds like a good night to me.
  • Some kind of dance class neither of us has tried before. I’m physically capable, but very clumsy when it comes to choreo and I love trying new things.
  • I love cooking, and I’ve had this idea of getting a 70s cookbook (Be Bold with Bananas or the like), then trying to make something dire from it. Also we’d both have to at least taste it.
  • Play one of those adventure games where you have to make choices. Telltale Games sorta stuff. Take turns alternating who gets to choose. It either brings up tensions nice and early, or helps you see what kind of decision maker your date is. Or if they want to share their thought process, that’s really awesome and helpful to know.
  • Lots of Fuck/Marry/Kill. It’s fun to come up with people/abstract concepts that you’d either want or hate all of them. The game has legs.
  • Cult Film/Bad Movie showings. Something at The Royal/Carlton/Revue. Especially if there’s a fun theme to work with.
  • I genuinely like pretty active stuff. I’ve done this one before, but I was doing friend dates for a while and we plotted out a route, then jogged to a brewery (chatting all the way) and got beer flights. It was neat.
    Pursuit OCR is pretty far out now, but it’s an amazing place and I’m sure it’d be a great spot for a first date. If the conversation is fun, you could even turn the long transit into a feature by spending the time getting to know one another better. Then once you’re at Pursuit, seeing how someone approaches play is an important thing for me, because I’m often all sorts of goofy.
  • For improv nerds, I’ve thought of going to a Wedding expo together and making up your long term relationship as you go along. Seems like a rad, potentially high-wire act.
  • The Toronto Public Library has some free recording facilities. You could record a date and turn it into a podcast episode.

Will I do even half of these? I have no earthly idea. I went on zero dates in 2018, hopefully I’m in more of a dating space in 2019.

I guess I must be having fun

I don’t read much these days, so writing fiction is tough. The expressive vocabulary isn’t there to fall back on. Still, I had a scene in my head that needed to go somewhere.

She was on her way downtown, meeting up with an ex she hadn’t seen in ages. They parted on amicable terms, and had been pretty close since. Sorta. When they were both single, it was great. They could share space with someone else that knew them. They’d been intimate. The intimacy was no longer fiery, but the compassion lingered. Then she’d gotten a new partner, and things had still been fine. They kept hanging out, it was nice to have a male friend who wasn’t her boyfriend. She could confide in him, be there as support for his dating endeavours. It felt ideal. Then her ex got a new girlfriend. It was exciting, but weird. Something hung over their ex-ship that hadn’t before. They drifted apart, saw less and less of each other. Tonight was their first time together in almost a year. They were just gonna watch a movie at his. It was an excuse to hang out, movies and snacks. Would it be like old times? So comfortable with each other? Or were they trying to revive a time that’d passed? Had they sailed beyond a point of connection? Was she just using him for easy emotional labour? Or was that why he kept her around? A friendship born on wanting to feel needed? She hadn’t thought twice about him for months, but post breakup, he popped into her head. Ugh, typical. She shook the thoughts from her head and bounded down the subway entrance stairs. A new song kicked in, strumming bass and bouncy synths. She smiled and cast her mind back.

She was cute. Cute? Cute seemed reductive. She was handsome. Striking? All sharp tangents and bold lines. She was confident and comfortable and smiling. She looked like she wanted to be there. That was nice. They’d been chatting for hours and it all just fit, y’know? She was funny, and probably out of his league. Out of his league? What did that even mean anymore? Did it ever mean anything? At 28, his thoughts constantly questioned rules and structures. This talk of “leagues” was basically just “stay in your lane” by any other name. The boxes only fit if you let them. She was talking about the suburb where she grew up. Remote. All seaside, quaint shops and fishing piers. As a kid she’d bike down to the stores with her friends. On Friday afternoon her mum would give her ten bucks for them to get ice creams. He could see it in her eyes, animated, eyebrows going like crazy. She was right back there. One time, she said, she told her mum that Lindsay and Karen were coming, but didn’t invite Karen. Her and Lindsay split the tenner and got chocolate thick shakes. There was something mischievous about it, taboo. They’d pulled into the park, sat under the big maple and held hands, giggling. Backs to the world. They’d taken more than their share, but they were sharing it together. It felt like they’d earned it. Like it was okay, sometimes. Then they’d thought about Karen back at home. They’d make it up to her sometime. It was kinda nice to do stuff for people, but sometimes it was nice to have someone to yourself. He smiled. It was great just hearing her talk. He marvelled at how vivid her memory was, how open and free she was being a couple of hours after meeting him. A waiter walked past and his date caught his eye. “I’ll have another one, thanks.” She looked back at her date and quirked her head. He nodded. “Make that two. Cheers.” The waiter walked off. She turned back to her date. “What’s your favourite musical memory?” He’d never thought about it. He wanted to give a good answer, sound cool or deep. She told stories well, he could too. Out of his league. He laughed, and it came to him. He cleared his throat. “My father used to spend a lot of time in his workshop. He’d throw on a record and work on little projects. He wasn’t great at it, but I think he just needed to get out of his head. Maybe it was an excuse to listen to music. Who knows? He’d crank it up loud and dance to himself, but time and time he’d come back to his favourite song. Talking Heads – “This Must Be The Place”.”

She walked onto the platform, and the lyrics kicked in. “Home is where I want to be/Pick me up and turn me around”. Images flashed in her brain. Her ex in the kitchen, uncorked bottle of red on the table. They’d supped deep, and gorgeous smells were wafting into the lounge. Garlic and onions, a rich tomato scent. Counters covered in flour. Pasta night. She was idly singing along, just watching him work. He loved to cook and she let him. Her days were hard enough, and he was nice to come home to. Home. She spent so much time staying over. Would they ever move in together? Did she even want that? She loved her own bed, her space, her things staying where she left them. He was a sweet guy, a little daft sometimes, but kind. Always kind. She was back on the platform, watching times tick along the info board. Her head bobbed along to the music. Four minutes. She could wait four minutes.

He sat, deep in thought. This song, every time it threw him right back to his father and his workshop. His father wasn’t always kind, but he cared. In his own way. In his workshop though, he was lost to the music. “OOOOOoh!” His father would bellow. “You got light in your eeeeeyes”. Back on the platform, his heels rising and falling in time. He smiled, eyes creasing. He looked up to the Westbound platform. A lady stood wearing a long yellow pea coat. Yellow? Sandy? Mustard. Definitely mustard. Why did English have so many words? Her eyes were closed and she was bobbing her head, lost to the music. Her eyes started to open and he averted his gaze, blushing. He was lucky he had someone to go home to. He couldn’t live the single life again. He’d forgotten how to meet new people. What were the steps? The song wormed its way back into his head. “And you’re standing here beside me/I love the passing of time”. He darted his eyes back, just for a split second. Her eyes met his, he darted away again. He closed his eyes and focused on the song. He mouthed the words along with it “Cover up and say goodnight, say goodnight.”

She hadn’t needed to think about guys in so long. She was comfortable alone, independent. But for some reason she felt like she had to be in a relationship. It wasn’t even her thought, one of those shoulds that society threw her way. She liked being alone. She could stay up late, sleep in. On her own time. Before the breakup, her boyfriend had been so needy. He was going through a hard time, but when hadn’t he been? She’d helped. She’d tried, anyway. You can only help for so long with someone who won’t accept it. A guy going East looked her way for just a second. He looked nervous. Probably needy too. ShouldsFuck “should“, she thought. “Home, is where I want to be”. Byrne’s vocals spoke her mind. Did she even want to see her ex? Was this just another should? A sudden rumble. There was a train coming. Had it been four minutes already?

A rumbling dispersed his thoughts. His train pulled into the station. “I guess that this must be the place” The song’s eponymous line, lining up impeccably. It was almost cinematic. Life imitates art kind of thing. The train came to a halt and the doors opened. He stepped in, still mouthing along. “I find you or you find me.” He had this strange compulsion to look back to the woman in the mustard pea coat. The motion of her lips caught his eye. They were moving in time with his own. “If someone asks, this is where I’ll be, where I’ll be oh!” His eyes widened.

She stared, transfixed, as her mouth kept moving. “Oh! Sing into my mouth”. Nervous man looked shocked, but she couldn’t blame him. What were the odds? This was uncanny. He was standing straight up looking right back, lips mirroring her own. “You got a face with a view.”

Astonished, he hardly noticed the chimes as the doors closed. He simply continued staring, mouthing along. How many songs existed in the world? How many songs were people listening to right at this moment? Hell, Talking Heads had a huge discography on their own. The lyrics poured into his ears as he imagined the possibilities. The train began to move, while he couldn’t. Stone still, but for his lips. “I’m just an animal looking for a home”.

For the songs not only to be the same, but to start at exactly the same time. Was that statistically impossible? The train rolled away, but the guy hadn’t even taken a seat. The moment held him fast to his feet. The words went straight from his lips to her brain. “Share the same space for a minute or two”. He moved out of sight, but not out of mind. Dumbfounded, her lips stopped while her cognisance reeled. Almost dizzy, a flurry of thoughts: Where was she going? Why was she going? Where did she want to be? Did she want to be there? Was there any reason that she didn’t? She liked her ex, right? Did there have to be a big reason? Their history was good. Familiarity was comfort, wasn’t that enough? What was she even worried about? He had a good heart and a big laugh. Maybe she’d pick up a bottle of red on her way over.

He came back to himself and found a seat, still caught by the moment. The outro plugged along merrily. What did his dad always say? “I’m home, and I’ll drink to that.” Home. His wife was back home. She’d been working all day. Tons of commissions lately, but when it rained, it poured. She’d welcome a break for the night. Maybe they could go out to the park with a blanket, sit under the big maple. They’d grab chocolate thick shakes and a mickey of Kahlúa. They could reminisce about warm memories and think about the future. Together. Sometimes it was nice to have someone for yourself. Real connection wasn’t easy to find. You had to take it when it came, right?

All for mon, Montreal

Writing this from our Air BnB. It’s cosy, warm and tastefully decorated, reminding us all of the vast rent disparity between Montreal and Toronto. My room has bunks, a mural of children playing in winter, and a painting of the universe on the ceiling. It’s either a kid’s room, or a very creepy fuck den.

You know what? It felt weird to fly with weed. No matter how legal it is, I’m still left feeling like I’ve done something wrong. I went through customs with my pipe and weed just sitting in my bag’s front pocket. They scanned, there’s no doubt they saw it. At the time I was like “it’s fine. I think. No, it definitely is. Weed’s legal now right? Right? Yes.” Turns out yes, it is. There was no problem. There was so little in the way of problems that, as soon as I got off my bus at Lionel Groulx, I took out my pipe and had a quick puff. It wasn’t weird, I didn’t get odd looks. I just did my thing. Then riding the metro was that much more fun. I got to the Air BnB and clunkily tumbled through a discussion with the host, who spoke very little English. My very little French was a good enough match that we managed to find the words together for an extended conversation. She primarily used this extended conversation to shit on Torontonians in an extended capacity, so I’ve already had the traditional Montreal experience.

I also had the distinct pleasure of arriving hours earlier than any of my friends. That’s not even a dig. It was awesome to have time to myself, to sniff out whatever it was I wanted to do solo. Which, as it happens, was walk around for hours in the snow, eating and drinking as I roamed. I had lasagne at a bakery, got a cookie from a patisserie, then found a brew pub and chilled right out. With a few heady ales, I remembered just how much of a lifeline Wifi is on holiday. I’m not gonna lie, I legit just kind of got drunk by myself in front of the internet. Just. Like. Home. I even watched my favourite Magic streamers. What else are holidays for?

Eventually my friends arrived and the drinks kept flowing. We got wine drunk, then spirits drunk, then cheese drunk. I finally tried my Amaretto and coke combo, which, as advertised, really did taste like Dr. Pepper. I tried Grand Marnier and coke because, well, coke was basically the only mixer we had. My cocktail savvy friend chimed in with a couple of drops of fig bitters to round out the flavour, and it turns out she knows her stuff. Then we got into a round or two of Rum Can, which is its own specific thing. In short, we sat around chatting and drinking for many many hours.

The rest of the night was standard group shenanigans. One of our friends did her daily physio exercises, with another friend supplying sips of wine through a straw at regular intervals. We met our friend’s childhood soft toy, which was a nightmare incarnate. A dilpidated blue rabbit with a dead stare and faded fur. It hung from a string with all the physics of a limp corpse. We ate 11pm spaghetti, which should be a feature of any good party. We danced to Paul Simon with the volume cranked to 11. It was such a great night, and we’ve STILL got another two nights to go.

And I get to spend those nights sleeping in a maybe very creepy fuck den.

I’m a lean mean napping machine

It was a week. It’s been a big weekend. I’m not sure why I’m italicising.

Suffice to say, it’s made me realise that I’m nap years old now. I’ve had two long nights out, heavy on the booze, the caffeine has flowed freely. Sleep has not. I’m staring down the barrel of a fun night out to cap off the weekend, and I’m not certain I’d be putting my best foot forward at this level of fatigue. I don’t even know if the last sentence worked, that’s my level of mental fugue. I’ve been doing too many neat activities to “waste” time closing my eyes between sheets. My body, however, doesn’t agree with my brain on this. I’m all of course we can burn this candle at both ends. It worked for lightsabers, even if Darth Maul looked a little goofy. My body is like yeah, but that almost directly led to the dorky lightsaber hilt thing, so maybe slow your roll.

Case in point, like last night I have another nap scheduled for post posting this post.

I can’t remember being a baby, and I also can’t remember ever enjoying sleep. Sleep has been time I couldn’t get back, always. With under a week until I greet 32, I’m so much more aware of how my body runs. I can recognise the difference in greeting the world well-rested. My brain functions more smoothly. I don’t have to grasp for concepts, words, and how italics work as much. My limbs feel more attuned to my thoughts. I can navigate the world easier. Things just flow in a way they don’t when tacit understanding is beyond arm’s reach.

Which is a convoluted way of saying that I try to catch up like a goddamn tiny child. I took a capsule of magnesium citrate before writing this, and I think/hope it’ll calm my body down enough that mental peace comes easily. I want to get an extra hour of charge. I think it’ll make tonight more of a party. I’m well aware that people have been napping for centuries, but I’m often late to the game with trends. I just downloaded Snapchat today (so a friend could make shared Bitmojis with me). I gave up all kinds of rights and permissions so they could put together silly pictures. Does that sound like a solid idea from a well-rested brain? I DON’T KNOW.

But there’s now a cartoon version of us playing hacky sack. I don’t know that it’s worth losing sleep over.

That’s the thing, I have been losing sleep. I did think those italics worked, but I’m not sure about the ones I just typed. Coherence is hard enough to come by in this “crazy mixed up woild”. You know what’d bring it closer? Closing my eyes between sheets for an hour.

Wait. Are they called “italics” because Pisa is in Italy?