I planned to write an explanation for my new design. I’ve since decided against it. It is what you see it is, and I’d rather spend my time foolishly saying other things.

Doolies told me she’s enjoying my new style of writing. She claims not to understand some of it, and that’s fine by her because it means the writing must be insightful. I don’t agree with the premise that cryptic writing assumes deepness, but I’m enjoying not translating my thoughts. It feels raw and somehow more valid. Doolies also said that my other writing, particularly my stories, read forced, as if I pounded my thoughts until the point of dilution. Okay, that last part was my editorializing on her comments. I told Doolies that I’m not trying to write cryptically. If anything, my style results from laziness in writing understandable words.

Ticks and life are hard to pick up with wooden sticks. I gallop against time, and lose. I’m writing against the clock because it’s almost deon-dong wan-gee time—we have to play before Doolies runs off to sleeping work. Sickness doesn’t wait on the sun. Speaking of daylight, an unnatural spring tumbled over Seattle this past week. Today, sunny, fifty-degrees, finds me sitting in an old coffee house, a hard-chair, art-supply-smelling remnant of the hippy movement. I love it: the checkered floors, green walls striped dripping red near the ceiling, cups of oil-based pastels and crayons in the artist’s corner. No two chairs match, the tables and floor are slanted, and the coffee tastes of sweet milk. The furniture stays where the last patron placed it, and industrial-noise pumps over ratty computer speakers. The paintings on the wall are for sale but look drawn by ten year olds and framed with construction paper. Christmas lights border the windows. Even the name adds significance: “Lottie Motts.”

The caffeine ran its course leaving me with less significant words. My redesign addicted me this past week. I spent most of my time coding and designing, staying up late most evenings. I was glad to post it this morning to rid myself of it. I spoke before how certain projects dominate me, leaving me in a constant excited state unable to concentrate on other tasks until completed. The Cornflower Blue redesign epitomized that state.