Yesterday I drank the worst coffee ever, I knew it as I ordered it, no turning back. A little voice held hostage up until the cup reached the tongue said I told you so, then looked for mind police to take me away. Doesn’t it know if they take me away they take it away too? Thought more about a book idea, a situation in the north that intersects reality and fantasy and wondered if it’s just an idea that remains a thinking loop. Listened to a recording sent to me from the far East requesting my opinion. It was boring and missing elements that would excite except the quality of the singer’s voice. Exceptional voice. Kind of voice only glimpsed by people on psilocybin and later nobody believes them, obvious reasons. She wants to know what I think. Bet I’ll never hear from her again unless I dip my impressions in maple syrup before giving answer. A frequent problem. The 50s continue to be a space distilling how much time is left. Pressure is on to become nothing quickly or suffer the consequences.