co-worker reminded me of a complicated thought involving wormholes and hemorrhoids and ourobourus…

Since I have depleted the quantity of FREEEEEE hook-bate gigabytes of storage usage from iCloud services, I took to my phone settings to turn iCloud off. All I really used it for was to back stuff up. Thank goodness I didn’t rely on it as a file transferring service because then I might’ve been more acceptable to extending my membership with monthly contributions. friend at work says it’s only $1/mo. for 50GB. It seems appealing, but FIRST!

I want to find my way around my dumb smart phone. see where stuff is saved. get an idea of how much storage space I have left on the phone before I try and invest in larger storage capacity in my phone. I’m almost due up for an upgrade I think.

Listening to cheap trick. Can’t believe I don’t know any of the early songs.

Pondering putting up some shelves. I don’t know yet what I’ll use them for because they’re going to be hard to get to, which is the main reason I had been putting the whole shelf idea on the shelf. Well, my neighbor no longer throws her empty Avon boxes over the

fence and it might’ve been convenient to just stuff junk in them and put them in this cabinet, in the kitchen, where they can be forgotten altogether. You see, the stove is right up against this cabinet where the designer of my humble abode decided to connect a water heater. So you see, it is the perfect corner in the kitchen to stash junk the way peeps stash junk in attics, and then forget about it.

so, that’s project A. Project B is more complicated. You see it involves continuing writings on #tmtwngm saga. To do that, I need my guitar to function. I need the drafting table cleared off. I need to make index cards of this:

BTW, it’s a real gas the way I got these notes on here. Mebbe I tell you about it some day.

SO YOU HAVE TO JUST GRAB THE KEY HIGH POINTS OF THE FUNNY SCENARIO. SCOUT’S SUMMER RETREAT. BORROWING SCHOOLMATES SPARE BRIEF UNDEROOS. THEN APPLY SCENARIO TO GROWN UP. I MEAN, I DIDN’T EVEN WASH THEM AFTER I GAVE THEM BACK…

BUT CLASSMATES POV MIGHT BE DIFFERENT AND HIS VERSION OF STORY MIGHT BE HE GIFTED THEM TO ME AFTER I ATTEMPTED TO RETURN THEM. THEN AGAIN, A 3RD VERSION COULD BE THAT MY MOM ENDED UP WASHING THEM FOR ME AND HAVING ME DELIVER THEM PERSONALLY TO HIS FRONT DOOR WEEKS LATER.

IN THE END, THE DARK HUMOR I MAKE OF THIS SITUATION WAS DIRECTED AT THE ANXIETY OF THE SITUATION AND RELIVING THEM IN ONE’S HEAD. IT’S FUCKED UP IS WHAT IT IS, THAT I WOULD THINK (REMEMBER) THE SCENE LIKE THAT—AT THE END OF CAMP, WHEN EVERYONE IS PACK THEIR SHIT UP, I GO AND TRY TO HAND MY LOANED AND NOW DIRTY TIGHTY WHITEYS TO MY FRIEND.

And regardless how things ended up turning out, the task at hand is creating the index cards needed to get this SEQUENCE of events portraying that same dark, sinister, absent minded teenage/adolescent

carelessness. Preferably applied to a grown up sorta scenario. Mebbe wife swapping action in place of camping, and I haven’t yet placed too much thought on replacing the briefs with what the adult version of hilariousness can become; maybe a sperm done capsule, a lion, a pharaoh and the true meaning of life. Time travel is best explained in an ouroboros symbol where the snake eats his own asshole. the connection that alien probing and assholes became symbolic. throw a little hemorrhoid action in there too. after all, we’re only human.

And BTW, I began to see clarity in the way my phone is designed to transform shared documents (even if they’re sketches!) to some kind of generic image format and now I have a file with useless notes that I’ve no need for now that I typed this blog update.

Project B is file maintenance.