Stream (082)

Stream of consciousness feels wonderful. I started to type, but I’d rather be working on the book. This is working on the book. This is getting my writing muscle going and getting me thinking about stuff to write. I’m glad Hank Green put it like that—reading and writing other stuff is working on your book. I should not be so afraid of italicizing words. It’s like I’d rather put them in caps instead, but that’s not proper at all. It’s just easier on social media because most don’t have the option to italicize. 

I feel a nap coming on. I wish I had a proper lounge chair or outside sofa out here to sleep outside. Oh shit, I have a hammock! I should get a new hammock for the stand because the hammock is falling apart. I have spent many afternoons sleeping in that hammock.

This inked moon on my finger is making me happy. It’s a waxing crescent moon with three dots to the left and two to the right. No particular reason for the number of dots. I saw something similar advertised in an email from the Inkbox company and copied it—or tried to. It’s on the index finger next to my Larimar ring.