Inert Itinerant

A lonely soul on a quest for something greater.

The Tundra Wurm

The beasts they rode on were weighed fifty times more than them, but they beast they sought was much larger. The blowing snow had covered them from the toes of their furry mounts to their hoods covering their heads. These six beasts, carrying the twenty of them, three to a back, four on two of them.

They carried spears in their hands, but these weapons were not to hunt the beast they sought, but to fend off the ice drakes that sometimes prowled the mammoth herds. Their shaman had fortified them with the essence of storms and their weaponmaster forged the tips from the bones of the largest drake to ever be brought down by their village.

They sought a creature even larger than these drakes. They sought a beast that dwarfed even those mighty drakes. They sought the beast that lives under the permafrost. A great wurm of unbelievable proportion.

They would be leaving the mammoths behind, soon. The risk of the great beast coming to devour such a meal when they weren’t prepared was too much. They approached the rocky outcropping they know would be there.

Six of the men went back to the mammoths, and led them away the way they came. Eight spread out at the edges of the rocks. Their spears stowed on their backs for now. Instead, they now held the daggers their forefathers had passed down to them. Daggers made of ice that does not melt and does not break. They held them high as they removed their hoods and began their chant. The wind stopped as if there were a shield around the outcropping. The snow that covered the stone melted in a moment.

In the center of the flat stone, their weaponmaster drew the largest sword known to their kind. An ancient weapon, imbued with great power by the sorcerers of old. He raised it aloft with both hands and drove it into the hard stone. The shaman removed a pouch from his belt, and began drawing lines from the sword in spices. His four assistants stood around them, chanting and spilling from their own pouches.

The weaponmaster raised his blade, and drove it into the ground again, and again. The sword did not bend or break or show any wear. The stone beneath it wore away, where it had been worn away before.

A creaking, groaning noise began. It seemed to come from all around at once. As loud as it was, it only got louder. The sound of their chanting was overwhelmed, yet they continued.

Shards of ice and snow began to fly all around. A void like a sinkhole formed where it was, as the head of a wurm rose from the tundra. It’s maw surrounded by mandibles covered in spikes. It’s jaws covered in jagged teeth. It’s body was covered in spines, unlike the smooth scaled wurms in the southern sands or that rise from ocean waves. Its head was covered in eyes that aren’t truly eyes. Stalks that tell the beast where to go but don’t truly see anything.

The beast reared its head above and made as if to swallow them wholesale from the rocky precipice they stood on, but stopped just back from it. It’s head hovered over them as the weaponmaster continued to smash the ancient sword down into the stone.

The beast lowered its head, laying next to the outcropping. The shaman and his aides walked forward as the sword continued pounding into the ground, and the circle continued their chanting. The circle and the weaponmaster moved quickly together, following the shaman. The chanting continued with their icy daggers held above them, until they had all made their way just to the back of the head of the beast.

The weaponmaster, standing the farthest forward, raised the ancient blade, and drove it deep into the wurm’s scales. Again the shamans raised their chants, and the men raised their daggers.

Their journey had only just begun. They sought the North in another part of the world. The shaman channeled through the weaponmaster’s blade. The wurm followed the turn of the blade. The news brought from the soft southern men was troublesome. It had to be brought to the oldest city of men. It had to be known. This was the only way to return, just as they had come here in the ancient times.


Inert Itinerant

I sit motionless in a room with a bed, a chair, and a desk. There is white sheets on the bed, and a small machine on the desk. This machine is connected to the back of my head.


I am in Iceland. The heat from the Eyjafjallajökull is brutal. A tap of my finger and my sweat disappears. A flick of the wrist and the heat from the mountain no longer affects me. The mountain is erupting. A lava flow is moving past me. I raise my hand and turn my open palm. The flow turns towards me. I tap my fingers some more, my hand still raised. The molten rock spreads around me. It does not stick to me, nor scrape me. Perhaps in the future I’ll be able to experience the full sensation of being washed in a lava flow but for now this is the best that can be done.

I am surrounded by pitch black. I am floating. I swipe my hand sideways. I can see around me. I realize quickly, as a fish begins swimming towards me, that my light is visible to those around me. I swipe my hand upwards and the fish stops. It swims in a circle, it’s eyes spinning. I had hoped I’d found an uninhabited darkness. I wanted to experience nothing.


I am in a crater. I do not know it’s name. The crater is on the dark side of the moon. It’s cold. I feel some of the cold, letting some of it in, but certainly not all. I wish I could experience what it was like to suffocate on an astral body such as this.


I am in the Sahara. There are mounds of sand in all direction. I find myself questioning why I came here. The wind blows the sand across my eyes. I allow myself to feel some of the grit in my eye socket. It does nothing for me.


I sit on my chair in my room. I reach my hand up and pull the cable from its socket. I sit in my chair, looking at my blank walls. I move to the window and open it. People outside are moving along. A man plays guitar on the corner singing in a dead language, perhaps one of the romance languages that died out in the last century. Some obscure practitioner thinking he knows how to speak the tongue but is likely bastardizing it. I close the window, and lay in bed. I likely won’t sleep. I reconnect the machine from my desk, laying with my head the wrong way in bed. Perhaps I’ll dream.

The things I’ve seen in the park.

The woman looked at me first with a smile but it quickly melted into a grimace of disdain. Perhaps I reminded her of a young lover that she had learned to despise over the years. The expressions of passersby in this park has always fascinated me. I’ve spent more of my off-time than I care to admit glancing at the faces and actions of thousands of people strolling past or enjoying their time in the park. I’ve seen this old woman before, but she’s never noticed me as far as I can remember.

It gets more interesting at night.

Not because of people.

Because of the things that are definitely not people.

I don’t know why, but those being, those creatures … I’m trying not to say monsters, because I don’t know what they are. They seem intelligent, they appear to communicate with one another, though I can’t comprehend their speech. They point, they emit guttural sounds from their throats. They are definitely not human. I don’t know why, but they’ve ignored me watching them. I’ve seen them be less kind to others, though.

On a park bench opposite me, I once saw them take a man, sleeping under newspapers. I did not see what they did with him, but I heard noises that sounded rather unpleasant. They were in the thick of the trees quickly, speeding away on their four massive legs, one of them clutching the man. The man clearly hadn’t registered what was going on, as I recall no screaming from him. Not even a look of terror on his face. I called the police that time. They didn’t believe me, of course. They searched the park and found nothing. They told me I should go home, sleep, and lay off “the booze.” 

I’ve never seen wildlife- not normal wildlife anyway -during the nights I’ve watched here. I’ve sat at this bench and seen these creatures at the edge of the park, while watching humans walk quickly past. I’ve seen them stop and look out towards the beasts I see, yet they refuse to acknowledge what is there. It as if their lives cannot accept that these creatures exist so close to home. I did consider photographing the creatures… but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. They’ve ignored me so far, I don’t want that to ever change.

Beyond this page, in the rest of the journal, is more in-depth details of what I had seen. I do not know if I will ever publish these descriptions. I am unsure whether I want to draw attention to the creatures. If people investigate and find these beings, I am certain their intent will quickly move to destruction. It seems such thoughts are in our nature when faced with such a terrifying idea.

The Darkest Woods

“I’m telling you, we elves have nothing to do with it,” the tall lithe ranger stammered. Though he was half-elven, he identified more with his sylvan side and lived among the trees with his longer-lived brethren. 

The fat barkeep wouldn’t listen, “Why should I believe you? Something intelligent is running things in those woods. You know of anything else intelligent but you elves? We humans never spread past this city we stand in now, and the Dwarves want nothing to do with it. There’s naught for them to mine in the forest.”

The half-elf was frustrated, but kept his temper- inherited from his human mother -in check. “Why would we come and tell you about it, if we were the ones doing it?”

“Misdirection! Or …” he stutters, “or… or… may be some of you elves have decided they don’t like the others and have started fighting other elves. You never were a civilized bunch.”

He boiled at that statement, “The elves of this land have remained far more civil than the men! You’re neighbors have fought each other for more than two-hundred years!”

“Hey, that’s them, not us!”

“You paint us elves in broad strokes, but when I do the same of men, you defend yourself? I was right to retreat to the woods when my mother was killed. You men lack any wisdom or foresight.”

“I”ll give you some foresight if you don’t walk out of my bar this instant. And tell your woodland friends they aren’t any longer welcome either!”

The ranger walked out, spitting on the floor as he left. He kicked himself for that later, allowing his rash human tendencies to get the best of him. He had to let it go, and hope that the next time elves visit the city that they’d behave themselves. It was a terrible idea to decide I should be the envoy to the city just because I share half their race.

He left the city quickly, and called out into the wild. A wolf appeared from behind the dense trees, I would have preferred a winged mount, but the forest gives as she pleases.. As the wolf approached, he cast the spell that would allow their temporary bond, to allow him fast travel back to his village- a day’s ride on horseback. He was not the best at riding wolves as he lacked some of the grace and balance of those who were fully elven. IT is said there were elves who could be lifted by a butterfly, simply because they could balance well. He didn’t think there was any truth to that story. There were many like it told by elves to their children, to encourage certain abilities in them. Some surely had real history in them, but so many were incredibly fantastic that even an elf learned well in natural magic would dispute them.

The wolf licked his outstretched hand, “Hello friend,” he said to the beautiful canine, “Will you take me home.” The look in the wolves eyes was all he needed. He made sure his pack was secure about his back and raised one leg over the wolf, then raised his feet from the ground. The wolf was off, there was no need to instruct it- the forest knew where to take him.

Riding by wolf-back is not as fast as by horse, and not as comfortable- but horses were rare in this land the humans had brought his ancestors to. Most mounts, including the ones used by humans, were carnivorous beasts. There were few large omnivores or herbivores here. The northern nomads, beyond the mountain range, they had large furry cattle that they rode, raised, and ate – but below the range only small plant eaters existed. His mind was distracted daydreaming about why this was the case … but he snapped to when he realized they had gone too far south. The stream they had just crossed led to his village, but they were not following the stream.

“Where do we go, wolf-friend?” he said aloud, knowing he would have to wait to see the wolves eyes before he could know its thoughts. Elves develop a telepathy with animals, but he was not yet fully capable of this- without looking into their eyes.

The wolf was slowing as they entered a thick area of the forest. The half-elf was disturbed by this. Worse creatures existed in the darker areas of the forest, and it was dark indeed here.

Unexpectedly, the wolf threw him. He turned to see the beast, but it was no longer there. Where he had expected to see the wolf was a thicket of branches, slowly falling apart from each other as if they had been held together by some glue that had deteriorated. 

And then – the trees moved. Never in his life had he seen such a thing. From the trunk of an old acorn tree, a lithe humanoid form approached him. It was not the tree, at the very least not all of it. A piercing headache filled his mind, “Welcome to our grove, young half-elf. You will be our herald- to both elves and humans. You will seed confusion among them. You will lead them to further distrust each other, to seek each other in combat.”

He fought the thoughts in his mind, “Why should I do this for you?”

“Because you will have no choice.” He felt a vine wrap around his throat, and there, a single acorn was tied around his neck, as tight as a choker. He collapsed to his knees, and his mind, his eyes, everything went black.

When he awoke, he was laying near the stream leading to his village. He had his resolve. He knew what must be done. He would tell the elves of the humans betrayal – their mages using the forest against them, sending illusions that somehow the elves could not see through to attack them. He would be sure riders were dispatched to tell other villages. Once done, he would travel to the human cities, and he would be sure they heard of the horrors the elves were committing to good folk in the frontier. He knew his masters would raze his village and this city before a new moon would rise. He cared nothing of it. The master must be obeyed.

Antecedent to Colony

I woke next to her and smile. It was still odd to think that we had been created for this voyage – given no choice. We were not even alive when the mission was planned. Our first ‘birthdays’ were merely a month ago, yet our bodies and minds are already developed to the level of an early adult. She was raised from her tank a day before me.

When the glass was pulled back from my eyes and she smiled down at me, I can only try to explain how it felt. Emotions of attraction, joy, confusion, anger, and sadness all rushed through me at once. There was, of course, a reason she was raised first. Her coding included understanding of psychology that mine did not. Once I was fully aware of myself, I realized this. We were both instructed with what each other’s strengths and weaknesses are while we existed ‘in vitro.’

We were both instructed on the operations of our ship and the operations of the colonization equipment. There are other ships heading for the same destination. If one of us pass, the other can ensure the ship lands and the colony deploys. Our genetics will still be part of the colony, through one of the other pairs. Me and her are destined for each other, but if one of us is gone, then we must ensure the colony thrives.

Neither of us yet have a name. We have codes, but we do not call each other by these codes. They are for use in communicating with other ships and, once we land, other colony pods. We are to determine names for each other before we land. I am perusing the database in our computer, looking through novels from the old world, as well as histories and mythologies. I chew on a bit of meat our printer has issued while I consider them. There are no animals on board, though we have genetic codes for many.Once landed, we may have to revert to a pastoral life. I would prefer not to eat the flesh of another creature, but it may come to that.

Greek names seem appealing. To me, Aphrodite does describe her, but seems somewhat ostentatious. Instead, I look at another Greek name – Alexandra. What else are we but defenders of mankind? We seek a less than hospitable world, and seek to find settlement there, to continue our race. Our home-world is dying. It is possible that me and her are all that is left. We haven’t had contact from the other ships yet, but we hold out hope that we are simply not yet in range of each other.

In the cooler I find some printed orange and banana, both in the shape of cubes without peels. It is odd to look at these fruits and compare them to those that we see in the numerous picture files. The printed food does not always match the shape of what it imitates. Imitation is not quite accurate, of course. The foods are identical at the chemical level. I put them in a cup and carry them to the bridge. As I pass through the central corridor, I peak at our rooms, to the left and right. We have become accustomed to sleeping separately, though we have enjoyed passion with each other regularly. It is important to maintain a sense of individuality- hence our separate quarters. The ship printers have given us things to amuse ourselves- knick-knacks and doo-dads, puzzles from the old world, items of our own design.

I continue on to the bridge and sit in my chair next to her. We did not say to each other, “this is mine, that is yours.” It just happened naturally. As far as we can tell, it is not coded into us- but it may be. We both certainly know how to code such a compulsion, the knowledge to do so is in my coding, but to hide it from the target seems difficult in the very least.

I hand her the cup of fruit and start to check the readouts. I can tell she is looking at me, though I my attention is in the sensor arrays. “You’ve made a decision about something. What is it?” I finish directing the sweep I’ve set up and turn my chair. She puts the fruit down and puts her hands in mine. Her light green eyes stare into mine, red bangs combed to the side. Her skin is a beautiful milky white. I am sure that once we are exposed to the sun of our future home, she will be covered in freckles. Our coders decided to leave some traits of our species that might be seen as undesirable from certain points of view. I am thankful for it. “You are right, I have decided on something. More and more each day, I look forward to our life together, Alexandra.”

She smiles broadly, her white teeth shining, with just a bit of orange pulp stuck in them. I ignore it for now. “Thank you for my name, Haakon.” It strikes me. I did not expect Norse, but I realize it is an applicable name. I am a chosen son. I return her smile as deeply  and meet her eyes. She ensures the automatic systems are still engaged with a quick flash of her eyes and a tap of her right hand. “Check your sensor scan. I’ll be in my quarters, don’t leave me waiting too long.” I assure her I have no intention of leaving her there by herself for long.

The sensor scan returns. Something appears to have been detected. I save the data. It can wait an hour.

Towards the Tower of the Mage

It was a crisp morning. Verein couldn’t believe his luck.  A merchant had approached him, offering coin, and brought him before a knight of The Hidden Court.

He did not know what was in the pack he know carried alone towards the tower in the distance, nor did he care. He had been trained as a courier who stays off the roads, between the hidden places. He could see the tower before him, but if humans were to look where the tower stands, they would see only an expanse of forest.

Verein looked like a human, as did all of his people. He thought little of it. He was not a member of court, he simply lived in the hidden places, doing tasks as was warranted by the coin given him. He didn’t seek much coin, just enough to keep his belly full. Sometimes this meant taking the treks between hidden places.

Those in court, and others who could afford it, used the high passages. Verein could not take those passages, but not only because he couldn’t afford it. The coin promised on his arrival at the tower required he walk through the forests of the lesser beings.

That was the term the knight used, “lesser being,” to describe humans. The knight said he could not give his name, and his heraldry did not give him away- except that he was in service to The Emperor, as all knights are. He knew the merchant, Gavat. He’d made runs for him before.

He was within a few miles of the tower. Close enough that he could see the tip of it above the trees, where lightning had struck and a fire had destroyed it’s upper rooms. It had never been repaired. The destruction was considered a worthy judgement of the mage who once controlled it. A new mage ruled there now and was the one the parcel he carried must directly be delivered to.

Verein stopped in his tracks. He could hear twigs snapping and the sound of something digging into the dirt. At first, he worried that it might someone after him. The situation of this adventure, the secrecy, did concern him- but not as much as the coin he’d find at the end of it. Enough gold to buy his own cottage and afford a dowry on a decent woman. He had a few in mind, some he’d shared bed with before. Those in his status did not worry much about such things. He wasn’t a noble. They had to watch who they bed, lest it be exposed to the court. At least, that’s what he’d been told ’round the watering well.

Verein quickly found his way into the branches of the nearest stout tree. The noise was approaching and he was sure whatever it was would be upon him soon. It did not seem a natural noise- not that of any animal he knew. This, of course, meant it was likely humans. They had various contraptions and inventions and things that those in the hidden places had no use of. 

Sure enough, two boys came flying underneath him on some workings made of metal and other materials that he didn’t immediately recognize. He remembered seeing such a device in a book about the outside world. They called it a thin chariot. Instead of being pulled along by some powerful creature, the humans used their feet to turn two flat boards that made the wheels go. Verein did see that it would be quite useful for moving between places quickly, but was clearly too noisy for a proper adventure through the woods. Of course, humans didn’t attract the same sort of creatures his people did.

He let the humans pass, and decided while in a tree, he might as well climb higher and scout his path again. At the top of the tower, he could see the mage floating in mid-air, his hands moving. It took only a few seconds to see why. A dark red winged beast broke from the tree tops and flew straight towards him. He tried to see clearly, to know what creature was attacking. It was nearly upon the old mage when he pressed his hands forward. Verein saw nothing come from his hands but watched in awe, his mouth agape, as the beast was thrown backwards, then tossed upward into the sky, its wings wrapped around itself.

Verein hoped there were no more of these creatures on the way to the tower, else he should have asked for more gold from that greedy merchant.



I’m sorry I haven’t posted for a few weeks. I’ve been mortified that my friends across the state border were gone. I’m sure you’ve all heard about the attacks across the country, but getting good coverage about something happening outside of the domes is difficult.

I’m happy to know that my friends are okay, even though these idiots did try something where they live. Unbelievable. In a world where there are creatures from another plane of existence or another world or … whatever the hell they are, these idiots decide to go shoot a bunch of people. And they did it all over the country. I know some people don’t like how much power police forces inside the domes have, but in this case I’m glad they did. Only one person was killed inside of a dome. I have asked my friends more than once to move here. Sure, they’d have to live in the camps outside for awhile until we can expand the dome to allow more people in, but they’d be safer by proximity. One of my friends told me he doesn’t want to give up his freedom… But what good is his freedom if he’s dead?

I’ve heard rumors that we have strike teams running around the country finding these assholes for trial, which means we might have a repeat of last September’s militia-military confrontations. In some ways I want to agree that allowing US soldiers on US land was a mistake, but how else were we going to drive the creatures away? What else could we do?

Again, I urge my friends and anyone living outside a dome to move into one. I’ve been to the staging camps, it’s really not that bad. Most of them use apartment buildings and houses, and the ones with tents are still very well run, very clean. The average incoming emigrant lives in the camps for only a year. The dome is expanding faster and faster, and that number comes down all the time.

I feel sick about all of this,

Good bye for now,



I’m watching some David Lynch short films that I am including in a secret santa  package that I should have sent out weeks ago. Some friends and I are doing a long distance exchange this way. I haven’t received my secret gift either, so I guess I’m not the only one procrastinating.

It’s pretty amazing when you think about how far we’ve come in the last 12 years. I suppose it’s really 13 years, or will be soon enough. We all thought we had some terrible computer bug about to bring our financial world to ruin. What actually happened makes that silliness pale in comparison. And so few computers were actually affected, it actually makes me laugh to think about.

I knew someone who lived where the rift formed. I miss him dearly and wish that I had known him better. It was tragic. But we managed in less than a decade to return to a semblance of normal life. Our great domes protect our biggest cities. It humors me that we call them domes, since few of them are actually dome in shape. For instance, the one over our city is more of a trapezoid. We add sections to it as time goes on. Eventually I imagine it will go right up the Northern and Eastern state boarders, maybe farther. Maybe this whole country will eventually be covered in one giant dome.

Since I haven’t mentioned it, I guess I will now, in case any wonders what it is that I do. I work in networks. I know that doesn’t sound very interesting, but the reason I haven’t given out my name or where I live is because I work on the networks that run the defense system of our ‘dome.’ The weapons and shield generators that protect us are managed by people that know how those fancy things work, I just make sure the signalling protocols get where they are supposed to go. I run a complex network of routers and switches (mostly switches, we don’t need level 3 gateways as much as we once did, SDNs made a huge jump the last year, its a technology that just makes sense for the dome). I’m really fond of the work I do. I know I’m helping people and I’m happy about it. When I was still a kid, when this whole horrible event started, I had no idea how I could help other than grabbing a weapon and shooting the damn things. I killed a small one, one of the little bat-like ones, when they first invaded our city. I had a hockey stick. Good thing I’m a hockey fan in a city that can’t even support outdoor ice (well, with the dome, we can freeze whatever we want, environmental controls are awesome).

Eventually this rift will be completely closed and we can go back to the way things were, but you can easily see how things have changed. For instance, I just bought a card game based on my favorite comic book company. That wasn’t possible 6 years ago, but it is now. We can do normal things again, mundane things, and I’m so thrilled about it. I hope my friends I visited are safe. I never heard any reports about that hydra. It wasn’t so close to their town, but I worry. Eventually our dome might cover their city as well, and our train system will take people right up to the neighborhood. I’d really like that. I do hope to see them again.

Good bye,



This past weekend I visited some friends just north of the state border. It was fairly entertaining while there. I played a round of golf, we went skating, and then enjoyed some very childish games.

I know what most of you are thinking. How could I leave the protection of the dome? Well, the incident happened a long time ago, and there’s a lot of people including myself who think we need to start travelling for reasons other than business. Its time to reclaim the concept of travelling for vacation – and I don’t just mean to other domes. The friends I visited, they live outside one of these giant safety nets we’ve built. They have barely been affected.

That said, I don’t suggest travelling alone as I did. I couldn’t afford the safety of a seasoned crew, so I did it the hard way and rented one of the little cars they’ve outfitted with a harpoon gun and a few other weapons. The trip up was thankfully uneventful, there had been some news reports indicating encounters off to the west of the road. Like I said above, nothing happened while I was there.

On the way back, however, I had to deal with what I think was a Hydra. It was reptilian, with two great legs and no arms. It was about the size of a small bus (yeah, like the ‘short bus,’ don’t laugh, I rode one as a kid). I think I was lucky, I could see the stumps were it’s other 7 heads had been. I guess it had broken away from some other contact with humans (soldiers?) or perhaps some other beast that was released when the rift appeared.

Well, I missed with the harpoon gun. I realized later that I probably would not have wanted that to stick after all. I set the motor to winding the harpoon while I grabbed a machete and the AK-47 from the back seat. I tried scaring it away with the AK, but I only garnered more attention. One of it’s remaining heads, a black one, lunged at me. I could smell a stinking decrepit fume coming from it’s maw. I somehow managed to sidestep it and swing the machete down. The neck of the beast was like butter to the blade, I sliced straight through and the head dropped. The blade I was holding in my hand appeared to be disintegrating so I tossed away what remained of it. The hydra turned and ran, screaming in pain. 

I left quickly after that and I’ll admit I didn’t obey the speed limits at this point. When I got to the next checkpoint, I told them what happened and they laughed. The officer said, “Ain’t no way you cut off a hydra’s black head. None of us done that, what makes us think you could’a?” All the same, they promised they would look into it.

They keep saying that the rift is closed, and that the beasts are all being herded away or destroyed… but I’m just not so sure.

Anyway, I was pissed when I got back and the rental agency said I had to pay for the machete. What did they think would happen if I actually used it? I was lucky they didn’t count how many rounds were left for the rifle, they probably would have tripled the price on each bullet. Ridiculous. I’m going to get to work on outfitting my own car for road trips, just in case I happen upon another hydra, or something worse.

Bye for now,



I don’t care that today is 12/12/12. It actually made me want to punch a kitten each time someone mentioned it, and by actually I mean not at all. I would never punch something that can purr. I was still truly annoyed.

I’m working on a secret Santa gift tonight and listening to a lot of obscure music suggested by friends. I am also watching DS9. I had been watching TNG and finished it. I was going to return to X-Files but decided I wasn’t done with Star Trek.

I’ve got to figure out how Sanskrit will be a part of my secret Santa gift. Argh.

I had quesadillas for dinner.

Work and the ride home were fairly uneventful, though after stopping at Urban Outfitters I did accidentally board the wrong train and went South again. That was irritating  but it allowed me to go to Target.

I’m not sure that I’ve got anything else to say.