I heard that everyone is the lost citizen of a country only they come from. I’ve tried to list what I remember about my old home.
Bicycles
Trains
Telescopes
Rainy afternoons in the museum
Heavy brass objects on wooden desks
Layered clothing
Leather boots
Dogs, all of em even the mean ones
Non self help books
Coffee and tea, maybe in the opposite order
The pequod
Science fiction
Weiqi
Chinese
Curry
Crunching in the snow
Kerosine heaters
Mechanical keyboards
Typewriters
Doing it by hand with pen and paper
Improvising through this number, this evening, this life
John Henry, John brown, maybe in the opposite order
Bags of dice
Princesses in need of rescue
Dark energy
Speed
Plants
Hot showers
A good fuck
Chile relleno in a fresh tortilla
Big juicy mangoes
Having a cigarette in the cold, wrapped up in your favorite coat
Prolonged eye contact
Peacoats and that winter we all had them
Can you write down where all the atoms in the room are
When we die, we are more ourselves than we have ever been
DNA is the shape of time
How consciousness is like multistripe toothpaste, there’s all this sensory information but it comes out smooth and collimated
Everything that ever was and everything that wasn’t
Every step being into that first colorful step into Oz.
Turning vision into a paintbrush and painting everything with it and watching higher order complexity arise
The body is just a suit for the brain
Doing yoga
Orange juice
How big of a system do we need to make a closed, human supporting system
How grass and brick walls breathe
The first time I ever saw Jupiter or the Orion Nebula
The first time I saw Saturn
Poetry
Really understanding a song for the first time
Stuff Cam Wrote 