Thirty-nine today. I don’t celebrate it, but other people do, so thanks to those of you who somehow found out and remember what day it is, and to those of you who didn’t know: keep on not knowing, it’s totally cool.

It’s sweet to be remembered, but I neither deserve it nor expect it. I did get this awesome print from a friend at the market that I will post in this space as soon as I show it to my photographer friend at the market (the one who sets up and sells—you still count, Jane, but you don’t set up yet).

Anticipating some questions: I don’t feel older. I don’t care about the number, it’s just an imaginary concept used to measure a non-linear progression. Not dreading forty (couldn’t give a fuck). What else … I didn’t do anything special today (work day, so I worked). No, I really don’t mind. Honest. I had cake on Thursday (mom and dad).

That’s probably all for now. Watch for the awesome print.

Shit like this always freaks me out, but also fills me with a pale, sickly sort of hope for a better (if creepier) future.

The blob of nerves forming the brain of the robot was taken from the neural cortex in a rat foetus and then treated to dissolve the connections between individual neurons [excerpt taken from here].

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The word is derived from “Frigg’s Day” in the Anglo-Saxon and “Freya’s Day” in the Germanic, but Freya and Frigg were often associated with each other (maybe not quite as closely as, say, Venus and Aphrodite, but still). The start of most people’s weekend, and the start of my working week. Happy Frigging Friday (long way for a bad joke).

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This is news to me. Ok, it isn’t, but it might be, considering.

I’m updating because Case is in NYC visiting family and I have, for company, a deaf cat (who is also cranky) and some coffee and beer and I think there’s some bacon and possibly yogurt around here somewhere. I figure Case might stumble on this and read it and see what I’ve been up to. Ordinarily, I would think “no one could possibly ever be interested in this stuff,” but Casey actually might be.

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