2025-12-05 Journal Entry

I want to write but feel I have nothing to say. Words shall flow forth from my fingertips like jewels. Or perhaps they’re more like maggots. I don’t know what these are.

I feel sleepy, my mind an impenetrable dense cloud of fog. I wish to spring from it newly-born and become anew. But that alas is not the way of things. The way of things is work, for me to sit here writing some and then writing some more, in the hopes that something legible will come out. It’s a pity, that legibility, for what I most want is to show you what it means to be free, or else to learn it from you. What does freedom feel like in your bones. Pray tell.

For me it’s the softening around a situation, it’s the revelation of all the greyed-out options in the menu. Everything becomes more available, more real. We may think that things are clearly one way or clearly another, and then our vision expands and we find ourselves in a vast plain of infinite spheres. Within each of our option is every other option, our world all but Indra’s Net. May we be free.

I should eat lunch. It’s nearly 3:30pm and I haven’t eaten lunch. That should be remedied.