Micro-sages: is there a way to include a link to my newsletter sign-up in the nav (About / Archive / etc) area - or am I better off simply making another page?

Thinking back, thinking through to how I came out of a similar situation years back, and it was - to my recollection - through throwing myself into The Work, through casting off all things non-Work-related percolating in the brain and giving myself up to the sanctuary of the woodshed.

But I’m not certain that The Work is a sanctuary this time or the cause. Operative words the past few days, yesterday in particular: heartbroken, dispirited, and adrift. I haven’t felt this bad - and this close to walking away - since I left music school.

For now, focusing on things I enjoy doing; only moderately surprised that returning to these daily pieces, cultivating this thoughtstream, and turning away from more ephemeral sources of connected anxiety is the first thing that came to mind. Other things: smaller workblocks dedicated to the things within my control spread throughout the long day, ports in the storm of life.

All I can do is do; and so the day begins.

I’ve dealt with chronic depression for years. And right now - for the last several months, truthfully- it’s in a massive flare-up. I know I’ll come out of it ok, but, for now, it’s all I can do to outrun myself. But still, I keep running. Because that’s all I can do.

In what should probably be considered a sign, I was at my most relaxed in months sitting in a dentist’s chair, waiting for the post-cleaning debrief.

Pretty sure that Kirby grew while I was away on the day’s run.

New: featuring new music from Elizabeth Joan Kelly and new words+ from me, RE/EMERGENCE0003 has – along with apologies to Nick Sousanis for not following his instructions to the letter – arrived.

One decision has been made: THE GROUND LOOP will go on a summer hiatus. Too many plates: I’m dizzy from all the spinning – and, whether I realized it or not (I didn’t), all of the homepage work that I’ve been wasting time on wasn’t a total waste but rather a way to see that I was trying to do too much. This is what I will tell myself.

The Unwound Weedeater: A Tragicomedy In (many pieces and) Parts.

Quickly becoming one of those work-weeks where “What’s the point?” is on a loop.

Status, 25may2021

Your morning Kirby.

AirTags for my cup of coffee please.

The youngest dog-child is in full-tilt Kirby Derby mode.

Monday mail.

Still very much a work in progress, but the Parenthetical Recluse homepage overhaul is getting closer to where I want it to be. (I do recognize that this is probably an example of rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, but oh well - I’m enjoying myself.)

Cue summer rethink of how I use this space, etc etc.

In which Kirby learns that he can no longer fit under the couch.

EarBliss, 23may2021: BLACK TO THE FUTURE, by Sons of Kemet.

Newsletter is done and sent; the month ends, the month begins.

Inbound in +/-90: Dog years, learning to nap, Proof of Existence, a SOCIALIZED RECLUSE guest announcement, upcoming projects, and early access to RE/EMERGENCE0003: the month’s MacroParentheticals dispatch is on its way to subscribers. Sign up here, if so inclined.

Long day.