Flow formats come in many shapes and sizes. They’re prizes, second chances at lost horizons and ancient guises. Sands of time drip away with white noise wishes, subtle kisses of rock on rock on rock to glass. Hourglasses fill filigrees of axon, tendon, gold; bought and sold, the stories are untold but whispered quietly into caves drowned by the sea.
There’s a tone, sometimes; it’s a drone, sometimes. Sound pushes waves, in time; waves make a way, not mine.
on Tumblr. Short and sweet. Sometimes it doesn’t take all that many frames to tell a story.
The thing about the Dogshit Olympics is that most anyone is capable of going for the gold: all you have to do is not step in the shit which comes from the dog.
I failed on my first pass today. There’s that point of data that most car accidents happen closest to home, because you’ve seen the same scenery so many times that your brain shuts off and starts to think of other things.
I also might blame the intense fog or general darkness of the sidewalk, though the reality is that I just failed. I failed in the way that my foot slid, not enough to fall but to rather instantly feel the slimy squish and the intense regret that followed.
On my second pass, at least, I was able to prepare: I knew quite well where the shit was. It was even darker, too, though I could feel myself hype myself up. I’m really going to do this thing. I’m really not going to step in the same pile of shit two times in one day.
If you can call it winning, I then made all the right movements. I darted and dashed. I watched and was careful.
The lesson here is that even when you’re dealing with a pile of some strange animal’s shit, there’s generally a second chance, a way to prepare for what life may throw at you next.
I was on a roll for a while, scheduling it such that every day I had one post to this site. It worked, in that many of the posts were links to other articles, and that I could do it in batches: writing a couple nights a week, collecting through whatever I had bookmarked over the previous few days made it a very manageable system.
I fell out of the rhythm a while ago, in part because I ran out of links. It’s easy enough to fall into the blame game for upending the chain, though stepping back to analyze what’s valuable is also important. Most links I thought were great, though it was more about posting than waiting for something important to share.
For now, anyway, keeping a rate limit is important. If I decide to write a lot one day, that’s cool; but I’ll always space it out to a new day. Thankfully, WordPress makes this very easy with scheduling posts into the future, and the Publicize feature of Jetpack allows you to automatically post that article on whatever social networks you’d like.
This dance has most likely been performed more times than the Macarena: look for the drill’s battery in the same room as the drill. Instantly find it hiding in plain site in another room. Hook up the battery, but of course it is dead. Place the battery back in the charger, and try again next time.