Posthuman Blues

Warm greenhouse drizzle tapping my AC window-box. The air is warm and nastily enfolding, pressing against the base of my skull.

I started "Spaceland" -- still in its expository phase, but enjoyable -- and have been making up for a generally wasted Saturday (with the exception of an interesting Chinese dance/mingler last night, courtesy of my date, who's Chinese).

Next weekend I'm heading for St. Louis, which should be fun. I'm so habitual, almost neurotically so sometimes; I need to take more trips and take in more scenery. The alternative is what William Burroughs called "stasis horror": the logical result of spending too much time in the same place. The true "horror" is the inability to see what's happening and inadvertantly feigning sanity or, even worse, worldliness. You see this most readily in small towns.