Yesterday I went to the dentist and received a much improved report card, in exchange for all my moral dental effort of the past months.

The day before that, I went to Kevin’s and picked up both truck and trailer. They sit like omens in the driveway in the exact spot where I was first free, of being a professor. Five hundred dollars for an alternator on top of what was expected, and three hundred for a brake controller after all, and that’s the price of the game.

Today I spent my freedom and solitude putting my head back on somewhat straight, some kinda Jack Punkinhead; I did good. Fresh piles, fresh sortings.

Home is interesting and important. I have this one I’m inhabiting, and now I have parts of two more to complete, and maybe getting out from under this first one for a big profit when the two are ready. It’s a massively complicated multi-stage job and no one can do it but me.

Communication infrastructure, from a camera and a keyboard to a laptop and a Platform or three … keeping tabs on Elon’s Starlink Internet, and maybe his Twitter replacement too. (I had this thought that I could put all the overtly political stuff over there instead of here. Perhaps you’d like that!)

Both those things flow into building income streams of one kind and another, but revenue generation and allocation are their own independent issues too. Can I take a job there? At the University? Just think how much easier making a Home there would be, with that cashiering of my time …

Time itself. Was his demeanor. Which is worse–the tyranny of an alarm, or the tyranny of oversleeping? Time itself. Is all we have … literal truth.

Health, food, relationships, learning from Thich Naht Hanh …

Reorganizing and refining systems for all of the above.

Clearing the decks so these important things can rise to their rightful preeminence in my life, and the rest can fall to the sea floor and become scenic mud.

The time is. Eight minutes past.

You’re okay buddy it’ll be alright.

It’s eleven, fiftynine. And I want to stay alive.