More RAM.

I walked through this day filled with the rhythms of James Joyce's words. I sat in a pub with a slightly chilly Spring breeze at my back. Everything was slightly surreal and it all glowed a golden hue beneath the slowly setting sun. It's hard to focus on putting inner thoughts into writing when everything around you is in the midst of a shift. The ground beneath your feet is not solid and the words come shakily as well. 

The future is unknown but I suppose no more than normal. There is always the unknown, the unknown is just getting a little bit bigger. And we are traveling across a great expanse of it. I always think about what stories you will tell when the thing you are looking forward to actually happens. What will happen and how it will be articulated. 

I think that once I feel slightly more settled there will be a torrent of words which will pour from my lips and fingers and bleed on pages and pages of paper and take up bytes and bytes of space on computers. I might need to get more ram.