Memo to myself: do the dumb things I gotta do. Touch the puppet head…

I’m not under warm covers waiting to snuggle. I’m on a pirate ship, preparing to board an overtaken vessel. I’m alone under a moonlit sky on a desert isle, strumming sad songs on my ukulele. I’m saving a diamond mine from collapse while the workers escape. I’m dreaming, dammit. Join me?

I do not like the Bluesky font. It’s agitating.

All right. Time for my monthly post. What should this one be about? Pastry? Caterpillars? Thermoelectric coolers? The tingle you feel upon being recognized by someone you like?

@graceinthemadness.bsky.social There is no purpose. Only flesh and hearts and oxygen.

Bluesky is Truth. Words have no real pillow unless perambulated by nineteen colloids.

Why was 6 afraid of 7?

You may have heard it was because 7 8 9.

This is wrong.

It’s because 7 was a registered 6 offender.

#DadJokes

This is Ollie playing with his new green kickball. He can’t kick though due to an old evolutionary problem.

Okay okay, let’s try this again. Hi, people. I’m Zak.

I like character-driven and odd literary books that don’t neglect plot, writing, dark humor, and fitness, and have ADHD, depression, anxiety, and a labradoodle named Ollie. More labels: secular lefty humanist Jew. NJ - CA - WA - MN.

selfie in a pink void

I technically never get bored.

When they go low, we go high. Every time.

Entropy won this, and every, election.

Ollie will chat with me today.

Dog & quilt.

Introduction post!

Iguana fork burlap music
Retrofit sky hapless gloom
Shoe lathe chalkboard primer
Cock rabbit aluminum squid

Pleased to make your e-quaintance!

The greatest writers recognize your brain as an acrobat, and simply throw you a trapeze.

I’m probably a Martian. I control your whether. I make ripples in the fabric of JoAnn.