The computer in my pocket

I am in ceasefire negotiations with the part of me that always said I needed a full size keyboard if I was ever going to write anything. I think the parts of me are almost ready for a prisoner swap as a show of good faith. 

I had that old me over a barrel because he needed me to rescue the notes and tag ends of brainstorms from the ruins of that Ubuntu laptop the he was trying to use to write that Young Adult semi-SciFi time travel novel. *I* had the tech savvy to download the text artifacts. I turn over the e-archeological remains, and in return? I get to post short-format stream of conscientiosness fluff. Pennies down the wishing well. Roses tossed on the current of the Thames. Japanese poetry in English. Memories. Memento mori. 

If the habit forms it could be quick and fun to check in. No plans, just hopes.