(9/6/25)

Took a nap and dreamt of an underground city. Tunnels filled with sparing light. Long dark places, miles beneath monuments. The air there was like breathing limestone. I felt along ruins of past inclinations. There were fortresses of follies that were carefully built, brick by brick. Hands reached out of the dark and grasped my shoulder. They told me about something closer than the heat death of the universe, and it was getting closer. We are in a bizarre circumstances and it will be costly now to fumble.

Typing is escaping me, bah! I would do better to return to the cave walls—to draw scriptures of dire wolves and mastodons and dream of fire and stone halls. I would do myself a kindness to forget all this nonsense about Coca-Cola and Lenovo and “the Age of Artificial Intelligence.” It would do me some good to chip my teeth on elk bone. Mankind comes into this world screaming and crying and carrying on every day, so I imagine it wasn’t that different when we came into this world initially. I wonder what it will be like when we leave it.

~clancy