Thunderstorms last night. Can’t really start a fire by friction in the rain. Yesterday I was sitting by the creek, in a pile of rock chips and some animal bones I found, and I got a little grossed out. I feel mired in the distant paleolithic, utterly unable to transcend history in the way I’ve been envisioning. The smallness of my ability to affect the physical world around me is humbling.  I’m outdone by a beaver in chopping down trees. Hopefully, this fog will lift, I’ll finish digging my furnace, and I’ll finally get a fire going, to unleash some power that doesn’t need to pass through my own metabolism.