005 ❖ what to do with these hands

the work it takes to not only be ok with fidgeting but to actively seek it out as a means of settling and then finding out what works: the clicky cylindrical magnets (IG ad) that I now reflexively grab to flip around just below my webcam on work calls, the neat little credit card sized stencil ruler (IG ad) that I Kickstarted (kickstardt?) with the intent of a having an all-in-one tool for journaling which became an all-in-one tool to jam one’s squishy thumb bits through, the phone grip (IG ad) that spins, clicks, kickstands, and obstructs charging because why have it all when you can have it some. then the things that don’t ask to be fidgeted with: straw wrappers ripped into billions of tiny crumple-spheres lined up in a way that indicates you’re trying to conjure something (peace of mind, I imagine), poster putty rolled out into a thin strand and twisted in a pretzel that’s then mashed back into a blob (rarely between a poster and the wall as its meant for), any little thing that can be squished, clicked, bounced, spun, drummed on, drummed with, knocked around, flicked about and futzed with ◆ a Bluesky account that posts nothing but cool-looking manhole covers ◆ the chaotically specific marketing decision to dub Anora a “modern day Pretty Woman,” all but guaranteeing someone’s Grandma is going to have an unforgettable movie night

the Green Hill Zone theme from Sonic, played at an ambient volume not from a SEGA Genesis in my best friend’s living room in 1995, but from the tinny speakers of my laptop that now mostly lives on our kitchen table, our oldest playing the new Minecraft Sonic add-on, new things made from the old things, that with no specific pressure find their way back, a nostalgia that seems not to be gripping me as tightly anymore, but is never too far gone for a wayward punch in the arm ◆◆◆