My workplace has implemented weekly meditation sessions. This is great and wonderful for mental health, but I wish they wouldn't do it at 2:30pm—it's gonna be nap time if I'm not careful.

This is how you become a writer: just pick one of the things that is deeply wrong with you. Make it a character. Now send it on a self-help journey or try to kill it. Now call it a book.

I open my Bluesky feed and it is full of really cool people saying really smart things and being really passionate about really interesting stuff.

I like this version of social media, and the world.

Thanks, folks.

Falling asleep and I hear this clear as day—as though the guy is right in my ear:

"I am no common witch, sir. I am a *blue* witch and there’s a distinction.”

Thanks, brain. What do I do with that?

I'll definitely start writing soon. I just need to finish reading Stephen King's "On Writing" for the third time, figure out if I should use my laptop or notebook or buy a typewriter, choose between serif or sans-serif font, and then build a writer's hut in my backyard. THEN I'll be ready.

Joining my Discord friends on Bluesky and it seems like a chill place. Here's a picture of my cat, Foxtrot.