Koschei the Pensionless.

I'd like to make a living by doing just that, living. That'd be healthy.

Any superpower? Flight.

Have you ever strained a muscle in your neck? No? Well, it's immobilizing. I had never noticed how often I looked behind myself, or turned to check a suspiscious noise. It feels like a lego's only half snapped into place and needs to just be wrung in the right direction. I tried, I think I made it worse.

I saw someone neglect to request their stop when I was riding the bus today, twice. Sadly enough, I've gotten a lot of joy from seeing this. Sometimes I wonder if people realize there's a world going on around them, and that things are moving. Does this face sitting across from me see me as another face? Or rather a shape? Or perhaps just an obstacle?

All the hands are pointing up, midnight:

Those of you who glow constantly, thanks. I'm not talking gleam or glisten, actually glow. Like glowing teeth and faces combined with shrugging shoulders. Or like those above, waiting for your time to explode. I know you have to be set off by someone, or something, but that's why there's two kinds of people. Those who light the fireworks, and those who are in fact being lit. It's all about the pairing.



I live eight stories in the air. I'm either: (A) myself. or (B) a thespian bird.



Stay well.

This is quite old, but it shouldn't really matter.

Hi.

As Kenny Loggins would say, "This is it." (and then he'd go into some jazzy upbeat succession of chords that take me to such an awkwardly feminine blissfulness that I really don't feel all that guilty about.)

But yes, this is it. A blog, a new one. Well, not so new, but rather, differently shelled.

Expect this to be the skecthdumpinghouse. That's it.

Here: