Today, the Ides of September, Arthur and I once again sought to catch a halibut, but alas, we returned to port having only hooked a number of ugly bottom fish of poor quality. Halibutless. The sea was flat and sunny, though. I saw some seagulls cruising on an improvised raft (hard to see, center of this picture, looking past the southern end of San Juan Island toward San Ignacio and Baker, in the distance).
Meanwhile, trees continued their efforts to touch the sky.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
Day: September 15, 2019
Caveat: Poem #1141 “The origins of meaning”
pain expressed like desire internal states with utterances perturbations in air or glyphs projected with light hopeful, vain intentions to use an apparatus known as language
– a reverse nonnet