today is the 200th anniversary of charles darwin’s birth.  that makes him 198 years and 5 days older than the inkspot, which turned two inconspicuously while i was out of town last weekend.

i feel like i should say something meaningful about those birthdays, and evolution, and stuff.  but the air-conditioning is broken in this office, it’s friday afternoon, and it’s been a weird week.  for example, i spent an hour and a half this morning talking to a hungarian woman in her late sixties, who has been traveling around new zealand for a month on her own without really speaking any english.  (we get by in german.)  also, i dreamed last night that i had been convicted of killing someone and had twelve days before i would be executed myself.  (the alleged murder victim turned up alive in the end.)  so, running a little low on the sleep budget.

being that it is friday the thirteenth, and hot, and weird, here is a photo of a mutated octopus with branching arms (from sasaki, m. (1929) a monograph of the dibranchiate cephalopods of the japanese and adjacent waters.)  it seems somehow appropriate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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