|View from stalled traffic. Not quite the 405.|
The moods today were like flying through variable skies. There were moments that looked as if they would be seatbelt-in-your-seats rough, emotionally and perceptually speaking, but then there would moments of groove and zen. The trick is to stay in the air, stay flying, I suppose.
|C-cat chillaxing on the couch.|
It's already hot. Wait. Wasn't I worried about snow just the other day? Well, time for a fan down here.
Finally made some progress in The Brothers Karamazov. It is dense, but much more amusing than I would have thought. I think I tried to read the Constance Garnett (her translation came out in 1912) version as some things seem vaguely familiar. But this newer translation, Pevear and Volokhonsky, is already 23 years old. God was 1990 that long ago? What have I been reading? Hell, what have I been doing? Alright. No time to answer that. I should try to actually sleep.
|Ah, some trees and breeze.|
|Can't get as close.|