I am catsitting in an undisclosed location. Aside from a cat who is still being shy, I have a whole house to myself. The guest bedroom is nice. There’s a queen sized bed, windows on two adjacent walls for a cross breeze, and a lamp with soft yellow light on the bedside table.

It’s dark out now, and a summer thunder storm is slowly making its way towards us. The air is thick and heavy and still and altogether much too warm for comfort. Thunder isn’t so much booming as tumbling across the sky.

Sat down to do some writing for the death directed study this evening. Something about being away from home in a quiet space with nobody else around is soothing. Helps me focus. I opened my laptop, created a document, typed “Annotated Bibliography” at the top of the first page, and proceeded to write for a couple of hours.

It’s like any self-respecting conspiracy theorist’s basement wall, covered in old newspaper clippings and thumbtacks and red string. This is a fine place to begin, to start chasing paper trails, to go looking for connections between the sources, to find the motifs, to let my brain’s natural inclination to see patterns in the stars and in the rugs and in the ceiling tiles run wild.

Narrow the topic, carve out a thesis, defend. Pick out the hill you will die on.

There’s the rain. And a breeze, too. That feels lovely.

Hope it’s a good night.