2025

 12-10-25 I have a child, putting them in a hard plastic case in preparation for a frankly frightening baby-washing machine, and spend considerable time in running and jumping up and down the stairs of a performance venue looking for one of my co-parents

3-10-25 I am among fellow detainees in a fenced yard overlooked by a balcony from which Trump is spewing vitriol. I begin singing yo ho blow the man down, and the joining in of my compatriots drowns him out.

18-9-25 working late? out for a walk in the frozen wee hours of a melted March, meeting people; playing and talking with a young child, which gives me ideas about how to bioengineer a spacecraft 

5-9-25 a fellow disabled nonbinary person, a partner, rocks in an indefinitely long hug with me, their energy cosmic 

31-8-25 running through a library that has much overlap with a dreamy fantasy nightclub, singing the major-key nonverbal refrain of To A Poet by First Aid Kit

14-8-25 anticipation for the snow-environed first-person campaign of dungeons and dragons builds until an abrupt change of scene suggests a frustratingly humorous level-up may have prevented the party from doing battle: we then explore a warm subterranean area and S and I talk 

13-8-25 I climb on the use-uncertain periphery of a perhaps 150x250m room with a pool occupying most of it; I also swim intermittently and walk with C and old friends in adjoining hallways; on one lower edge I walk under increasingly pixelated advertisements for food in growing horrified fascination about the nature of my reality and the possibility of nevertheless finding a meal that I feel good about eating, turning to my right to talk with people un/known to me with their backs to the pool 

Further:

17-6-25 Mom and I go to a Fred Meyer which was also a school, my notable objective being to pick up my gym shoes. With characteristic unremarkability we enter the store to arrive immediately atop the bleachers, laden perhaps with refurbishment equipment, and the technically and neurologically difficult climb down flips instantly to a delightful run to the locker rooms, now satisfyingly distant from the gymnasium. They appear creepy and unlit: I persevere, grabbing my shoes as I run through, laughing that they are sandals. We blink back to the aerie of the bleachers, which have become nearly impassably laden with supplies in our scant minutes away, yet we make progress down them, Mom helping me avoid a fall near the end.

Dad and I work on a project together, seemingly in multiple overlapping series of events repeating to highlight the pattern of his rising frustration. He laughs at my jokes, he seems eager to offer his knowledge and skills — initially: he then repeatedly sours, invoking untruths about the use of time and my intentions. So I take a break and walk through something like an indoor vertical agriculture art museum, the walls abloom with new colorful species of plants, fungi, mixotrophs.

Furthermore: 

?-6-25 I explore a voluminous and well organized library of S’s; I see her being helped by a caregiver because both her legs are now prostheses 

13-6-25 so much running in concert backstage areas morphing into something like a cruise ship 

26-5-25 in a fantasy physics class I’m assisted in swapping places with an eigenself in a parallel timeline, signified by holding curtains out of a window to meet the window of the target timeline and hopping past myself; I see the moral and phenotypic evolution of a professor over more years than humanly possible, appreciating their resemblance to fruit and vegetable art; at this latitude, believe you me, new disabled friends and I gratefully rely on an absolute partybus of a wheelchair-accessible vehicle in midwinter; Mom and D host M in the 909 Ballaine upstairs and I participate more fully, including helping Mom with food prep 

Analysis: 

16?-5-25 I dreamt that I got lodsemone, $180M?, and I woke up buzzing with redistribution energy which I fortunately was able to put away until morning when I forgot about the experience 

2-5-25 an adult who bullied me as a child shares that he is Kanaka Maoli, and we cry for our stolen youth together 

15-4-25 a large plantain-shaped artistic representation of a penis mounted on a board, enjoyed and laughed at by others, upsets me to the point of yelling and threatening it with the stick in my hand. I have to go out into the summer sun for a break 

30-3-25 biking joyously on a much more densely forested UAF Yukon drive on a summer evening, singing Bikes by Rubblebucket

22-2-25 scratching the faces of five cats and feeling such love that I weep 

16-2-25 biological singularity nightmare in a large science facility broadcasting the “progress” to the panic of those of us trapped in the lobby 

30-1-25 standing up to bring more tortilla chips to B; looking at family photos with farmor, home-canned foods involved somehow 

29-1-25 lifting a blonde standard poodle out of a barrel and carrying them around