a grouse with completely feathered feet


btw, for what it's worth, I finally have a new chess poem. ONly, uh, 50 more to go or so. And that's only the majors (what's 1. h3?? I'm sure it has a name?). Chess is exhausting even when it's fun and I had needed a break from it. Taxing the mind in tariffs. It all comes down to either knowing lines or intuiting tactics, slopping a way through your own mistakes and those of others. Hard work, motherfucker.


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