Somewhere over the rainbow, the dark forces lurk.

I know this looks like it might be some of the insides of my desktop computer. If you thought so, you would be correct.

However, there is something serious going on in there that doesn't quite meet the eye.

Okay. So, it isn't so serious but what's going on will have consequence(s).

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con·se·quence (kŏn'sĭ-kwěns', -kwəns) n.
1. Something that logically or naturally follows from an action or condition. See Synonyms at effect.
2. The relation of a result to its cause.
3. A logical conclusion or inference.
4. Importance in rank or position: scientists of consequence.
5. Significance; importance: an issue of consequence. See Synonyms at importance.

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It's the logical or natural bit that has me worried. And also that often we get the consequences but not the action or condition is, sometimes, either not revealed or held hidden. That's spooky.

.

.

I'm watching the "Matter-hornES" (Everywhere Ship) decloak. Decloaking is just a thing they do because they are always there in front of you but if you could see that they never seemed to really go anywhere, it would be confusing.

Harmony, my agent, is going to explain why I can't be in two places at once. She'll slide down the "Matter-hornES" discharge chute, walk right in and tell me it's because we didn't tick the right box on last years income tax report form.

It'll be something about a TP-BS4Q or some such thing that whoever paid me to be in two places at once didn't send.

Which named form being quite oddly enough the make/model designation, TaiPei-BoseSangria4Quantum, of the "Matter-hornES". Nothing surprises me anymore.

In the morning, I went out to the Wars Memorials Square and lit a worm for all those entities who lost an iteration in one of them.

There was quite a large crowd there of mostly homo sapiens sapiens dressed in the traditional MacLeod dress tartan. The colours of penitence, the MacLeod's, were everywhere. I noticed a cohort of sentient six-hoofed equines with heads bowed respectfully in the shade of the covered piazza. The handsome hexapods each wore an aegis cloaked in MacLeod.

Plink MacDavis was there and sang covers of "Beginning to Feel the Pain", "Dream me a Home" and "Burnin' Thing".

As and in prayer, I gravely contemplated the meaning of the interstitial web of reality and the nature of waves, primarily those composed of graviquarks and tai balls.

Later, I had a pineapple waffle, drank a liter of water and engaged in a discussion an argument with my mom's insurance company. The poor dear is 437 years old and just can't look after herself any longer. Her barber filled out all the required forms, and probably for the nth time, yet her application to Ancients-Lea Rest Home was declined, again.

It didn't take long to get back. It actually seems like I left tomorrow and got in now.

It'll soon be time for another cosmic interstitial re-alignment. I hate waves.

I just got back.

They let me out.

I was headed for Rhuhm CI but fortunately a holiday was declared.

It is really, really important to remember that things are never so bad that they can't get worse.

My catheter's stuck, my drug supplier is away and the courier vaporized my last shipment of tobacco, accidentally.