The sign says YOUR SPEED and 33 is blinking: the limit’s 25; I couldn’t possibly be going that fast but I look behind me and nobody else is around. I guess I’m just a really fast walker?

It feels like this is something I’m doing to myself, not something that is happening. Everyone is walking around outside while I practice this private, bloodless form of self harm.

Ned Rorem, ~40 years ago: “The difference between a journalist and a diarist is that one reports what happened, the other reports a reaction to what happened.”

Bandcamp will be holding a fundraiser tomorrow to support artists, during which they're waiving their side of the revenue share.

If you've been thinking about getting some new #music, or supporting an independent artist, that would be a great time to do it.

I took a taxi because I thought it’d be better than public transport for social distancing.
I was surprised the driver didn’t have hand sanitizer.
Then I was surprised he was touching his face.
Then I was surprised he was biting his nails.
By the time I noticed he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt I wasn’t surprised anymore.

On the way back, I had a driver who was wearing a mask and listening to a radio program about developing a vaccine.

@JPEG Trying the new Mast... seems less configurable than I remember but faster/smoother.
I’d like to be able to show the full account name @user@server instead of username in feeds.
Username gets blocked if a toot is hidden, so you don’t know whose toot it is unless you recognize the icon.
If text describing the hidden toot is very long, it extends a bit above & below the size of the toot.
Full width images are a great idea.

You can just lie there
With the light on
Not going to sleep
And not doing anything else either
Until you’re asleep

This pawprint is not my cat.
This photo is not my cat.
These ashes are not my cat.

It’s weird how everything resets. Whatever I do it’s the first time since—

The taxi driver spoke very little English, and the time on the screen of his phone showed numbers I did not recognize. But he knew the roads. For most of the trip, the computer stuck to the window kept telling him to turn the wrong way. It was annoying and also silly. Turn right says the computer, and he turns left. Turn right and then turn right again, it says: he goes straight. We arrived five minutes early.

What if poetry is hard to understand just to make you slow down and bother to try

Once, it was possible for a person to be May Sarton. And that’s something. But it might not be enough.

The train car was quiet. Excuse me, said a man loudly, and we all took him for a beggar, but then he said Does anyone know downtown, Can you tell me the best stop for, and he gave an address. A completely reasonable request, polite, and surely most people could have answered. Silence. Is that the kind of world we’ve made? I suck at directions, I had a guess but wasn’t sure, started to think maybe I should say anyway. Then someone finally answered, mumbling.

and Karen said It’s crazy for me to spend all day in the kitchen if we’re not even going to use all the chairs, well my first thought was if I accidentally broke one, it’s a bit tight around the table with all nine anyhow, but the thing is one of them might really break some day and it’d be good to have a spare, so I thought who do I know that won’t already have plans or want to bring anyone along, and Karen’s a really good cook, so anyway how about coming by tonight and making it an even nine?

I don’t hate my job when I’m doing it, I only hate my job when I’m thinking about it.

A person, quite ordinary in all other ways, who has read only two authors (though exhaustively) : Spinoza and Bukowski.

I was so enthralled with Bach that I almost forgot, but I made it to the bookstore 3 minutes before closing. (does he have a mastodon? it seems like he should)

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