British Museum or Bust, Fall 2018

London is just close enough to be inconveniently far. Heathrow is a pain in the ass. Dulles is an even BIGGER pain in the ass with its stupid moon rover. I hate flying. I get very sick when I fly: swollen up like a blood-balloon with bonus semi-functional organs by the time I reach the ground. And customs. God. Damn. Customs.

So yeah, even going to London is a pain.

On the other hand, despite former claims that I was absolutely going to drop this whole Assyria obsession and work on writing books that need writing, the internet, personified1 as a tiny but persistent distraction monkey clapping cymbals forged in the furnace of wikipedia, keeps throwing pictures from I am Ashurbanipal: king of the world, king of Assyria in my face, which is frankly unfair. Just deeply unfair.

I have this pathetic sticker on my laptop that says “focus.” I clearly need a typewriter. In any case, I think it looks interesting.

  1. animalified?