Dear Diary

I just wanted a written record of my current state of being. I have this notion that years from now, I’ll be looking back on these days and wondering if I’m dreaming or remembering.

Myself, I’m really just killing time waiting until summer before I head south. It’s cold enough here. Nighttime lows get to around 6 or 7 Celsius.

I know, those of you who live in even modestly insulated houses don’t think that sounds cold at all. It is.

I did get up to some adventures in Brazil. The cops there are for real. So are the beaches. So are the protests. They know how to throw a strike and shut a country down. I lived at a gas station for a week. Also, my laptop was out of service so I couldn’t even work. Strikes are powerful.

Donald Trump, when first confronted with questions of a meeting in Trump Tower with some powerful Russians, claimed there were no contacts. He started shouting “no collusion!” at every opportunity. Then the story shifted to the meeting being about adoptions. Then the story shifted to getting opposition research, now the story has reached what is surely the apex of absurdity with an outright admission that he conspired with an enemy to win the election.

Yep, future me, you’re not dreaming it.