Stuck on steampunk images … two-minute mysteries and whatnot.

Nagged by a paramecium-shaped floater.

After making cappuccinos in a hotel machine, I dreamed a friend made up like Einstein was demonstrating how to froth milk.

At one point even adopting Albert’s white hair from the overflowing frothed milk.

A knight in pink statins.

Not really thinking about the Singularity.

Just a bag of beer and wine, leaking out ill-considered observations?

I just get bored.

You don’t have to be a historian of me.

How did I learn so well a look of disapproval … and skepticism?

She doesn’t like to be uncomfortable or countered but who does I spoze.

The stress of feeling inadequate is not good for me either.

Numbed.

Not comfortably.