Posthuman Blues

I might make a jaunt to Lawrence, Kansas next week to see poet Saul Williams do his thing. If I do, rest assured I'll do my utmost to seek out the reclusive Mr. Jason Sheets.

By the way, my arm is essentially healed. Occasionally it aches or fails to function to design specifications -- my doctor claimed I'd never be able to fully rotate my forearm again, although I'm skeptical -- but I've regained my dexterity and no longer have any use for the splint or the sling. Which is an acute relief because I was tired of apologizing for my inability to move heavy objects and making up dramatic stories to explain how I broke it in the first place.