so i've been reading a bit of theodore sturgeon lately. its bliss to read about the hive mind, the self of other. man, more than human had such themes of belonging & lonesomeness? the tragedy of amputation? its a hell of a pulp pleasure. but you know how my knees buckle when i start thinking about the way it used to be. about being a thing greater than myself. to marry medusa took a few good swings at making me homesick, but wasn't nearly as effective. i don't care about the lives of ordinary people. i just don't give a bit of a fuck. other than that i've been reading hellboy & dnd books, & before that it was raymond chandler. & & &, those jormungdir serpent ampersands. or fuck, instead its these john henry stokes. see the tracers as he raises his hammer & brings it down on the railroad spike. john henry beat the machine, but his heart broke doing it.