When is the right time to write? It never seems the right time when the words come. Paper, pen, or even keyboard, touchscreen are never in reach when the words bubble up, unlooked for, unheralded. And before I can write them down, they evaporate, like a single cup of water spilled heedlessly upon the cracked, dry earth as the sun beats down mercilessly.

Given my current work schedule (11 hour days on average with a few 30 hour days) I have lost all sense of time and place. I wake up not knowing what time it is, whether it is late in the evening or early in the morning before the sun is up, whether it is spring, summer, or fall (in this land of no winter.) I wake up not knowing where exactly I am, since I've only been living here for three months now. I have dreams about the cities I have lived in, the separate lives I have led. Everything feels so remote, both in time and place.

And more via trails.

More via trails.

Via trails.

This Google query leads to an old blog entry. Despite dealing with bleeding literally almost every single day, I’m still not immune from syncopizing from a vasovagal reaction at the sight of my own blood.

plugin to arbitrarily pull any content from the Internet. Likely to cause time outs and heavy load on your shared host.

Pervasive/ubiquitous computing on the way

Soul tripping from a tab of Tao and hit of Te.

What should be required coursework for life:

To know what is futile and what is not.

J + A — urgent conversation