At least this week, I will take up the offer I'm asking you to make. I did a story-style 401k match. A beginning for a beginning.

My stem soul tells the story of my visit to marsMy stem soul tells the story of my visit to mars

Mars is so dry I thought. At least, if someone asked what I was thinking, Mars is so dry are the words I'd say. Thoughts are more like oats than oatmeal, aren't they? What on Earth lol am I doing here? was my next thought. My legpit itches. It always fucking itches. Why? I will forget it if I can forget to forget it which I can forget if I forget that I'm forgetting ... That did the trick.

There are two I's, me's. I'm a podcaster, prancing on Mars' surface, legpit itching, wearing what's best described as a mylar-coated, human-shaped, diaper-thick ziplock bag. That's the me that's "thinking." But I, the one telling this story, I am the I behind the eyes.