So I’m sitting here, waiting to interview an artist and it’s not happening right now. Was meant to start a little over an hour ago, but that’s okay. I can still get things done I can still get on with my life and find out what I need to find out and all of those things. You know, or I know how it is. Anyway.

It’s a fine morning and there will be much productivity, but before all of that I’ll be heading to… the pool. Why the pool? To… swim.

To work on my fitness, and to get healthier which ties into the working on my fitness, and to keep working toward pushing past old injuries so I can do more things again. It’s all work and I gotta keep working on it. It’s not bad work, of course. It’s just work.

Mostly I’m doing it so I can beat Ewe and thus, when we go on our next misadventure, I can out-fitness him, because who doesn’t want a good bit of healthy competition in order to be petty for no good reason whatsoever? But then, he might choose to intentionally under-fitness me in order to fuck with me, and so I need to think fourteen steps ahead.

Sometimes it’s only seven steps ahead, but sometimes you need to double when it comes to Ewe, because it’s all mind games and it can become a bit of a mind trap when it comes to us, because neither of us know when either of us will try to fuck with the other, and so there’s so much planning and all the grace of a rock falling in a most awkward fashion. Really, there is some grace in that too, depending on how you view it all, but… well, you get the idea.

So really, my fitness is all about competition and not looking after myself at all. And the only person I can compete with is the one person I know who procrastinates as much as I do, or perhaps not at all and secretly he’s been fucking with me this whole time and I haven’t realised.

Now that I realise this, I guess I’ll have to put in a plan that spans years and perhaps even decades in order to counter-fuck with Ewe, and then we’ll see who gets the last laugh. Then we’ll see what happens from there.

This all spans from that one joint in the bush. I shouldn’t have done that.

But anyway, it’s gonna be a good day and there will be low stakes shenanigans, and a good bit of listening to the cicadas as they make their sounds and fill the space with the harshly pleasant buzz. Their rhythms play out in moments and mark the snapshots, and are as part of the background as they are the fore, and they guide and shape the surroundings, create an enclosure of time and space, and within that will be my swim, and it’ll be nice.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:31:65

Don’t know why I started talking about cicadas.
Actually, I do know, but I don’t know why I started talking about them here.

Written at home.