As buds give rise by growth to fresh buds, and these, if vigorous, branch out and overtop on all sides many a feebler branch, so by generation I believe it has been with the great Tree of Life, which fills with its dead and broken branches the crust of the earth, and covers the surface with its ever branching and beautiful ramifications.

Ate something regrettable on the plane and had night visitors:

• Dreamed our New York apartment needed extensive repairs. What New York apartment? The real owners came home and were very nice about my delusion
• Dreamed my new bff Gwyneth Paltrow came back from a shallow grave in the woods, writhing and sweating out a strange clear gel as she transformed into an anime ninetail fox
• Dreamed my ex-wife (what ex-wife?) came by the beach house trick-or-treating, wearing a horse’s head quite cleverly fashioned from a steel bucket and flowerpot

I may not be cut out for business travel after all.

It was pleasantly cool in the room. The old gentleman took the lid off the iron kettle, which had begun to boil, and as he did so there was a terrible flash of bluish-white light outside. It seemed to rush past from east to west—from the built-up part of Hiroshima, that is, toward the hills beyond Furue. It was like a shooting star the size of hundreds of suns. 

Flying to Tokyo again to teach a new class of startup founders. Looking forward to it. Highly anomalous. There was a decade and a half when business travel was grinding, career-building toil. Now at last I reap the rewards, by squatting like a goblin at my laptop and only venturing out of the house when the spirit moves me.

All of which is to say there was a corgi! In the airport! A flying corgi! Mirabile dictu.

Bring me the bones of Australian babies, the more the better.