“Float,” the word, it dances on my tongue, a whisper of air, a memory of a feeling to float, to drift, to be weightless, free, unencumbered, the water, still and calm, holds me up, embraces me in its embrace, close my eyes and let my mind wander, let my thoughts drift like clouds across the sky no past, no future, only now the water lapping against my skin, the sun warming my face, I am weightless, I am free, letting go, surrendering to the flow of life in harmony with the universe, at peace with the world, one with all that is

Beep. Back on the riverfront. Thanks, ChatGPT! but of course I meant a Mardi Gras float. Don’t get me wrong, I believe ChatGPT is as important as the internet was in 1993, and AI is not even a zygote of what it will become bla blah balahla.

Hey, look at me. The Krewe of Barkus rolls tomorrow. That means it’s warming up, we’ve got two more weeks to kill and I’ve got to figure out how to entertain you. Let’s start with some literature, images and music in ways familiar and strange.