April 12, 2018, 12:44 AM (Patreon)

I saw the mouse again today. Scurried from bathroom into kitchen. Scurry feels almost like a cliché, but if not for mice when would I every get to write the word? Say the word? Small things. By the time I got to the kitchen door he'd gone wherever it is he goes.

Woke at 3pm. Ate two egg rolls from the grocery store which isn't enough. Climbed back into bed. Slept four more hours. Five? Details don't matter.

For instance. I went on twitch and streamed myself playing chess for 3 hours, 5 minutes and 23 seconds. That is about average. Yesterday it was 2 hours and 3 minutes and 58 seconds. Twitch keeps an archive of the videos (https://www.twitch.tv/hauntedsink/videos/all) and every day I stream for about three hours. Sometimes twice. Last week I streamed for 16 hours in a row. A chess marathon. I was not myself. 

It gets me out of my bed, and that is something.

I am more overwhelmed by crowds and being in public. 

I still cannot write. Sometimes, laying in bed, I think of the perfect one sentence story. And then it's gone. Or rather -  it is still there, and it is still the exact same sentence, but I don't believe in it at all any more and so it is garbage.

I don't have a name for the mouse. I'm sure there are more than one. And a single name would be factually wrong. But calling him simply "the mouse" feels right, even if there are a half dozen. The mouse. The fact of the mouse.