02:30 rides

Highways usually clogged with traffic, mine alone at 2:30a.

A persistent but mild exact 12 MPH over the speed limit. My beloved city as quiet as my brain is forced to be at such speeds. For to not be perfect in every moment would be to invite death. Every moment different but no less perfect, just as the sky when we bother to look up. Breathing, weight, trottle are all that matter, passing thoughts as trivial as some taxi I passed by miles back, lights on, someone reading a novel in the back. Body and mind independently of no concern at all, but that perfect liminal point where they are the same thing all that matters.

some days…

..you have to remember that our brains are still basically suited for flinging poo at each other out of trees. And just because you have all the pieces in front of you doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily fit the outcome.

DNA was a genius.
edit : no, this is not on my leg. please see the comments if you haven’t read the entire H2G2 series and so don’t get the reference

We’re all just winging it, all the time, no matter how well-laid you think your plans are (though they certainly do help). Try to be the kind of person who’s ok with that.