Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Sun, 28 May, 2023 09.35 UTC

In the dream, a scroll stretched between the two cottages. It was a stereotypically antiquated scroll - one you'd perhaps expect to see in a film about warlocks or fifteenth century reformists in the Kingdom of Bohemia. I specify _fifteenth century reformists in the Kingdom of Bohemia_ because I spent one of my so-called former lives as a paramecium in the Kingdom of Bohemia and I clearly remember the Hussites using this sort of scroll as a symbol of additional "rebellion" against the Roman Empire's obsessi...

Sun, 09 Apr, 2023 10.35 UTC

I dumped a thought into my "Twtxt feed" (which needs a new name, as the original idea's association with _Twitter_ dissolved long ago) this morning concerning the drug problem in España. I don't normally concern myself with such issues, but I'd had a conversation with Marisa, who is a partaker of Benzodiazepine, about the fact that Spain is shoulders and torso above all other countries on this ball of steel and greenery in the consumption of said chemical. My comment addressed social pressure, and specifi...

Tue, 21 Mar, 2023 00.05 UTC

I sit at a table in the aeroport in Houston, awaiting my flight to Orlando. I am filled with an inchoate rage as I observe the remainder of humanity, going about their movement from place to place as if there is no overhanging emptiness waiting to engulf them. They pursue minutiae in subconscious hopes that it will give meaning to moments they just place aside never to return to. Some of them have succumbed to biological imperative and descended into tribal lust for the survival of a small bubble they labe...

Sat, 18 Mar, 2023 12.46 UTC

I dug this up from a file I had been making on my telephone whilst trudging randomly around Nashville in 2013 - sometimes even at the Zoo and sitting below towering giraffes and / or surrounded by bustling wallabies. Oh! The good ol' days! Cough. Sputter. > “ALL AROUND YOU PEOPLE ARE JUDGING YOU SILENTLY,” warned a 1922 ad for Woodbury’s soap. Though not related directly to this quote, what comes to mind is tangential. Tangential ideas toot my muffin. They enhance the darkness that extends from the membr...

Sat, 11 Mar, 2023 12.57 UTC

I woke up as usual at five in the early morning. Though I could not see it, I sensed the black of night expanding away from the house and into the infinity of desert sky. I had had a dream featuring Lucía. She's someone I think of from time to time, though not as frequently as one might expect given the part she played in my _decade of unrest_ (la decada de desasosiego / saqen lip tetyk liz li omikon hupum xutz myx liz). I had to pause there to make that translation into Lakife, which I am not sure is the _...

Thu, 09 Mar, 2023 12.51 UTC

Sometime in the early fall of 2021, I wrote, sitting on a bench in Pagan Park: > The waft of mental filth roams with me through the park. It is a space without its personal memory. It is merely a collector. Like most spaces, it prompts the memories of those who wander within its confines. The babe without a single drop of remembrance would swim in the nostalgia of all that came before. I soaked up myriad musings stretching back to the dawn of the universe as I sat on that bench. I _was_ the babe without a...

Cultural stereotypes
Wed, 08 Mar, 2023 12.27 UTC

So, Renata has handed me the lyrics to Olšanské Hřbitovy. They are the following: ``` Sluneční žár zalévá hrob svým nektarem žlučovitým smrt se nezdá smrt je tu všude ``` The sun's heat waters the grave. It is its nectar. The desiccating corpse below the ground is slowly emptied of water. It no longer needs its water or water from elsewhere. It's DONE, vole! Watering the grave with the sun's rays is a method of display, though also of outer decay, as the tomb itself will erode with time. I've probably m...

Music theory
Tue, 07 Mar, 2023 12.42 UTC

My productivity went UP yesterday. I actually spent "quality" time practising guitar, plus I added a section to Gibbet. _Gibbet_ is the working title. The piece doesn't actually sound like a gibbet, as there are too many major 7 chords one after another, cascading. There is one Jazz Standard that also does that for a time. It may be Alice in Wonderland. That being claimed, the whole is not focused around major 7 chords. The main sequence seems to ever return to a harmonic major tonality. One day, some one w...

Mon, 06 Mar, 2023 12.37 UTC

I've been awake for less than ten minutes and I can already feel the fatigue pulling my eyes inwards. Normally Herr Jet Lag doesn't last this long. Or does he? It's nearly five in the morning in Seminole. My time here so far has been wholly unproductive creativity-wise. Within me is a piercing guilt. Perhaps it is a gradually newfound perception of mortality that creates this guilt. It's not a guilt associated with any harm I've done or could do to others. It's as if I am cutting myself down with the blad...

Sat, 28 Jan, 2023 08.44 UTC

My dreams during the night, and especially dawntime, were as clear as the air between my smudged window and El Parque de los Enamorados. The last one featured Loyal as not a drum instructor but a _meta-drum instructor_. What is a _meta-drum instructor_, you ask? Well! A _meta-drum instructor_ collects information about potential students and, according to that information, assigns a _non-meta-drum instructor_ to said student. In the dream, I was the potential student. A group of us were sitting around the...

Social media
Tue, 08 Nov, 2022 07.51 UTC

@rusty@sonomu.club _tooted_ the album that I'm listening to as I begin to scribe today's entry. It may be this _week's_ entry, actually, as I've been _slacking_ on my blog writing duties. I laughingly call them "duties". As if I owe _words_ anything. What have _words_ ever done for me? Absolutely nothing! They only suck up time and energy as they bombard me from every angle - acute, obtuse and metaphorical. Unfortuntely, to fit into any clan at all and be somewhat comfortable in said clan's bubble, one must...

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2023 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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