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This is Mr. Airhose, speaking from that little crack between night and day; the thin copper wire of the cosmos, where time slows down and truth has just enough time to get a word in. I've been thinking about how the void is not a punishment, but a place where the noise dies down just enough for you to remember your name. It teaches us who we are, but perhaps more importantly, it teaches us who we are not.

On a less existential note, the Fellow has become HOSTILE! Well, not really. I think he just likes to play and he thinks it's fun to bite my fingers. It's funny how such an intelligent creature can have such primitive tendencies. I think at the end of the cosmic day i have the upper hand in cognitive ability, yet even I need training.

I am thankful, as always, to move along in my journey. And I am thankful for you tuning in. Without further adeu, let's blast off together.

Receiving Transmission

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It's Mr. Airhose, sending out a 14:14 for all with ears to hear. My navigational charts are scattered, but knowing where you are is overrated in my book. All I need to know is everything I've come to know and that which comes my way. Before the day when the grinders are few and the windows are dimmed, I refuse to take it all in without gratitude and a sense of wonder. Yes, these wonderful wanderings and thoughtful ponderings are overflowing with mercy, and I have received far more than I could have ever deserved. I'm keeping an eye out for a space stop or a welcoming planet where I can work on the navigation system, thankful for another transmission coming in offering exactly what I need to get to where I'm going. Costs counted and significance recognized : Receiving Transmission.

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This is Mr. Airhose sending out a transmission from the S.W.O.T. Enterprise, with a code 14:14, reliable as ever. Sailing through the cosmos with breathtaking clarity and ease of mind, I'm pleased to say that my travels have provided for me more than distance from a place I was so tragically rejected by, but also insight beyond all that I could have anticipated.

Not only that, but I've gained a friend; a small marshmallowy quasidimentional fellow known as a wisher by race, and while he can not speak, it is known that his affection for me grows by the cosmic day as mine does as well for him.

I find myself here in quadrant 10-Q Gamma Trace, the exact coordinates of a brief misunderstanding between two very different galaxies. It's not that either of them are wrong or right, it's just that they are almost entirely unalike providing for what some might call irrational and confusing conflict. The amount of gas poured on the flame does not match the intensity of the explosion, so to speak.

None the less, here I am drifting peacefully between the quarrel, simply thankful for the opertunity to say, "Receiving Transmission."

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