The dreams that you chase turns into meaningless space

The afternoon's mail brought a typewritten letter from yhlee, which was delightful in its own right but also enclosed a page of sticker-stamps of different kinds of ships—longship and galleon, pentekonter and brigantine, several full-rigged objects I can't identify without going down a research K-hole about sails which will inevitably end with the "Anchor Song" stuck in my head. I need to frame more small things and put them up around my office. Too many of them are propped on shelves where I worry about their longevity. In the meantime I fell asleep on the couch while spatch was making dinner. I appreciate this article about the illusion of moral decline, not least that it starts by citing Livy, who was claiming two thousand years ago that civilization had hit moral rock bottom. Otherwise I am feeling as though I have effectively ceased to exist.