Last night I was looking at some scientific articles and one had a title that started “SCREW MIGRATION”.

It’s about how sometimes a screw used to mend a broken bone moves away from where it belongs, but now all I can think of is a grumpy bird staying put as he watches his stupid flock setting off south for the winter.

I’m watching a good movie, Otherlife, and the main character spends several months in solitary confinement. That part was rough for me to watch thanks to the issues I now have about that.

It occurs to me that a very scary novel could be written about solitary confinement. Just the endless days stretching into each other while the mind feeds on itself.

I don’t know if I could stand to write it, though. I might give myself nightmares just from the plotbunny.

Roommate: So what’s on your brain today?
Me: My current crop of plotbunnies is ripening nicely.

me: we’re already writing a novel
brain: BUT IDEA
me: ……….
brain: ………
me: ok, what’s the idea?