valsombraThe fever dream of life continues. Birthdays and brotato; a hazy trip to Rochester and the siren song of quiet nights bathing in the glow of an Atari 2600 emulator.
Work is ferocious and I am not and I need to find time - make time - to write. As if time is something that can be pulled up out of the earth and molded like clay; something to the idea of making time that reminds me of the delicate process of balancing fuel for rockets to escape earth's gravity; it is a game in which all returns are diminishing.
Playing these retro games again, I'm reminded how much they were all about timing; knowing when to jump and when to wait and when to look for the pattern unfolding around you, the one that will tell you how to safely navigate the moment without making some twitchy, calamitous mistake. Like life, most of the games are timed - there's pressure to do, to go, to make - but then I think maybe the high score is a red herring and the only thing that matters is whether you're playing a game that feels fun.
Nonsense thoughts for a nonsense day. I was warm last night. I was happy.
Indigo 🏳️⚧️
Tiesa Meskis