Coming out of a fatigue-induced crash (how long was I out today, maybe an hour and a half?) leaves my brain a murky mix of confusion and dead thoughtweight. Staring at the television is about all the focus I can muster for the first little while.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
Read the current manifesto. (And the followup.)
Rules: no fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
Coming out of a fatigue-induced crash (how long was I out today, maybe an hour and a half?) leaves my brain a murky mix of confusion and dead thoughtweight. Staring at the television is about all the focus I can muster for the first little while.