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Siri just confused me with Tom Hanks and tried texting weird apocalyptic descriptions from Inferno to @palinode. This is our perfectly normal future.

"This article will show how this hijacking works, and how China employs its… distributed points of presence (PoPs) in western democracies’ [telecom] systems to redirect internet traffic through China for malicious use. It will show… routing paths, give a summary of how one hijacks parts of the internet by inserting these nodes, and outline the major security implications."

I can't read this. The world's too much.

I'm armed with coffee and sitting in an upright position. I'm thinking about clippers and a haircut, a puzzling bit of site code I need to hammer out, and maybe writing for tonight's Regina Word Up slam. I'm not waking up into a debilitating sadness! I'm making headway!

I got a new electric floor sweeper, and my dumbest cat wouldn't come out of hiding until I pet it like it was a new cat I'd brought home. Now he's licking it.

‪"I'm a pessimist because of intelligence, but an optimist because of will."‬
‪—Antonio Gramsci, 19 December 1929‬

Today, I'm hiding out from need and Twitter and Facebook, so you get me.

Someone who was a client — I helped her set up a blog to document her experience with breast cancer — and then became a friend mostly over social media has just gotten news of two brain tumours. I swear cancer takes the best of us. I'm devastated and trying not to weep through my partner's book launch.

I need a breakfast chef. Or I need to train my cats to make eggs.

A first snowy morning on a Monday calls for snuggles and coffee in bed with Onion.

I woke up to see the blue early morning glow of first snow outside. I'm working on a sense of excited wonder, but mostly i just want to hide under my quilts in bed.

Here's a shot I took with my new to send to a journalist who interviewed me. It's the first photo I've taken with it. When she asked for a headshot, I realized that I only had goofy selfies on hand. Remedied.

I keep forgetting about here, but I like here. Must fix somehow.

I referred to myself in general as a "mutineer" in a dream last night. Dream me is so fucking cool.

I made a September 2018 Mixtape: It crosses a few genres and decades, and you can listen on both Spotify and Apple Music.

I need to get past feeling HULK SMASH every time someone says that no one has any privacy anymore so you may as well keep handing your info over.




In my early 20s, a psychiatrist told me I had anxiety. I said that I'd heard the word, but I couldn't grasp what it meant, because the feeling was so foreign to me. He said it was the water I swam in, which is why I couldn't see it. Then I saw it, and I could start a growth process I desperately needed.

Sometimes you have to step out of the water, or find someone who can lend you a hand to step out of it.

Do you think it's contraindicated to watch shows about cult murders while you're sitting in front of your seasonal depression lamp?

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Generalistic and moderated instance.