"Mmm...not so much, no."

Winter is clinging like a sticky t-shirt in humid weather.

Humid. Sticky. Clinging. Three words that work well together, like Really Big Gun, Ouch That Hurts, or Bad Little Monkey.

In his latest novel, William Gibson writes that jetlag is the soul being reeled in on a ghostly umbilical down the wake of the plane, long after the body has arrived at its destination. He theorises that the mortal soul cannot travel fast, and must thus be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.

I like that theory. But I also think that the soul leaves before us, which is why, before taking a trip, we feel lost and empty - soulless - stuck in a no-time that doesn't resolve itself until we've arrived at our destination, and reclaimed our lost souls.

Poetic, innit?

I think it speaks volumes, and it reminds us that...we all have a bad little monkey inside of us.

(Yes, my soul left a long time ago, and it took most of my Sense & Reason with it.)

I'm getting up at 4 AM tomorrow. Four. A. M. This is quite early. A farmer might call it "time to hit the shower and eat a farmer's breakfast, with the bacon and the steak and the coffee, and also possibly a monkey". I call it "time to reposition myself in bed, and possibly get started on a fresh batch of dreams. Preferably something with cute girls. Or monkeys. Or both. Both is good."

Tonight's secret word is 'monkey'. I have absolutely no idea why. See 'soul/missing', above.

Much work to be done during the next four days over there in San José, and on Sunday I go back. So, mmm, not so much with the weekend, no. I'm not complaining, though. It's good to get out and about. Inspirational. I think I'm pretty inspired as it is, but it never hurts to get with the inspiration.

I can feel a ramble coming on, so I should quit before I break something. I'll try to check in with a post on Thursday, but - no promises. I'm not bringing a PC, so I rely on the Kindness of Strangers.

Cheers.  ¶ 22:44