5 AM. I've slept for 7 of the last 65 hours. Cannot turn my mind off, things that normally take me minutes to figure out are instantaneously solved and quickly forgotten. I've taken notes for so many ideas that I'll probably never have time to unwind them all.
Driving 135 miles per hour down highway 20.
The windshield is white with snow flurries that engulf my high beams, snow flakes spread out like millions of stars that part hyperspace for the millenium falcon. I can see the wave function, as well as the aerodynamic repulsion of the heat that follows my screaming tires, barely gripping wet curves, yet hurdling forward into roads the light barely unmasks before it's in the rear view mirror.
My mind finally shuts off and in the collapse of speed and darkness, I am free. It's quiet in that place, pristine. There's something here for everyone and more than enough of it. It's euphoria to imagine how easily the abundance of access to the universe could be shared, right here, right now. I love this world, I find both shock and wonder. But, I'm not staying here.
Signing off.
Sent from my Chromebook.
Driving 135 miles per hour down highway 20.
The windshield is white with snow flurries that engulf my high beams, snow flakes spread out like millions of stars that part hyperspace for the millenium falcon. I can see the wave function, as well as the aerodynamic repulsion of the heat that follows my screaming tires, barely gripping wet curves, yet hurdling forward into roads the light barely unmasks before it's in the rear view mirror.
My mind finally shuts off and in the collapse of speed and darkness, I am free. It's quiet in that place, pristine. There's something here for everyone and more than enough of it. It's euphoria to imagine how easily the abundance of access to the universe could be shared, right here, right now. I love this world, I find both shock and wonder. But, I'm not staying here.
Signing off.
Sent from my Chromebook.
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