It's thrilling to be at home with the smell of freshly washed laundry wafting on the chilly breeze from the open window cross the drying rack to my flaring nostrils. Herr Wolfgang Riechmann's synthesizers howl in my ears, playfully. In brief, I am happy I am here in this moment. It may be the beer, however.  The río Tíron is one of the last refuges of the European Mink in Spain. We think there are approximately sixty left. Well, Madis thinks there are about si...
I've been knocking about La Rioja (he estado rondando por La Rioja) for nearly two months now, and, as any fool can see, none of that *knocking about* has included updating this blog. Qué pena. I'm sitting in the [Logroňo Public Library](https://www.google.com/maps/search/Biblioteca+de+la+Rioja,+Logro%C3%B1o,+Spain/@42.4602928,-2.4483627,14z/data=!3m1!4b1) not because I do not have a sufficent internet connection in my small and filthy flat, but because it refreshes my shrivelled brain to change my locatio...
Fudruckers in IAH is a brilliant place! I recommend it to everyone. That includes [Christiàn Neumann](http://christianmnewman.com/blog). I really don't understand why he includes his middle initial in the name of the domain. Why not just make up something? Be, creative, cunt! Oh, I was talking (writing) about Fudruckers. Well, they supplied me a beer. Beer is important. It deletes most of the apathy in life. Well, if its amount doesn't wane, but that is another story. Speaking of beer, I am reminded of a ...
I'm sitting at the aeroport bar in Midland, Texas. I've been here before. Two summers ago, I was sitting at the other end of the bar listening to REM *Fables of the Reconstruction* and drinking beer. I don't recall if I, like now, also accompanied the beverage with a shot. The bulk of my communication with the outside world was with Karolina in *Fulnek*. I have no internet connection that I am aware with or I'd include a link to Google Maps so that you cartographically inclined could imagine yourselves stru...
Two Octobers ago, I attended a lecture in Tallinn at which my friend, Tiit, was speaking. Two people lectured before him. Well, *lecture* is not a proper term. They made presentations concerning their life among indigenous peoples elsewhere. The first was a woman who had spent most of her live in northern Siberia. I'm referencing [this](http://blog.thinklikeamink.org/#/entry/188) entry. During the conference / presentation / whatnot, I wrote a number of short entries hoping to get back to them and elaborat...
Over the last month, I have been transferring to MongoDB (in the same manner I create normal entries) old *some would say ancient* hand written journals. Yesterday, I did [this](http://blog.thinklikeamink.net/index.html#/entry/307) one -- the first in a sequence concerning my and Christopher's trip through Australia together. Oh, and an intriguing journey it was! I was inspired to look over a series of emails that Christopher and I traded in the summer of 2011, when I was in Praha, then in Seaforth. Writ...
However much it irks my mother, I attempt to go for a walk in the magnificent *Forrest Park* in *Seminole* every day. My mother thinks that I am perpetually stranded in my pre-teens, and therefore very vulnerable to the elements, so she'd rather me not be out in the nefarious daylight. Nighttime is even more out of the question. Her nerves are rattled if I return from dinner with Sandy in the darkened evening hours. Manifestations of evil swarm in the West Texas twilight. Yes - ultimately I shall become th...
Today's special question is what exactly are on these cassettes?  I've gone through three quarters of a cassette. It's the one on the bottom right there. Interminable noise making experiments make up the bulk, but I've salvaged a few choice cuts. In six months, these will disappear from the server. Someone remind me to create a cron job to do so and a Google Calendar alert to force me to update this entry. [Sex with pregnant yaks](http://thinklik...
He awakens from another dream. His sleep lately is punctuated with dreams. They are small climaxes. It is like this: He falls asleep at the foot of a wave and the dream begins soon thereafter. The wave swells and at the crest and froth is a poignant moment. The wave breaks and he wakes. He always wakes. There is no transition between dreams within sleep. Consciousness is an interlude. He thinks it the part where the audience mill about for a time in the foyer between acts. He is the sole member of the aud...
Right here in the good ol' days, I whip up a pot of *millet* every morning. The morning meal round these parts is called *breakfast* for all you flaky new-agers out there. I know mealtime routine sickens all of you, but I have to subsist and *millet* is a damn fine way to start another day of subsistence. I prepare it in a *pot*. Yeah, I know it's old fashioned and stuff, but I cling to my pot like it were my first child. It serves all the uses of a first child, as well. Besides *millet*, I can make soup i...
A contrast between my last entry's spiel about my parents' incessant scheduling is their pseudo-*spontaneity*. I use that word very loosely is this context. They did schedule the call to my Uncle for today, as it is his birthday, but did not set a specific time. I'll call this *spontaneity within constraints*. When they just finished their morning duties (ie, routines), nothing was left. Therefore, the time to call my Uncle had come. This is *spontaneity within constraints*. I was summoned. I refused. Luc...
