September 19, 2026
New exercises in PT. Some are fine, but I literally cannot walk a straight line putting one foot directly before the other without falling down. I’m required to do so so infrequently I hadn’t noticed. I suppose if I were caught on a narrow mountain ledge it would be vital.
Fall warblers in my silver maple.
Up at 4 AM. It’s probably because I went to bed hours early, but it’s sweet to imagine some Romantic angst.
Wake with bitter prayers on my tongue. The only shame holding them back is knowledge of the millions who have it worse. Betrayal rains from the sky, and yet we worship. Futility sucks at our feet, yet we keep struggling forward. There should be a church of how much hatred God has earned.
Anyway. . .
It is but 7:30 AM and I’ve already put together The Catbird Cantos.
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