and how are you?

In Potsdam (the small town in rural northern New York in which I grew up; I'm here for my father's funeral) after a plummeting ascent on Air Terror. Exhausted; phone not working; about to use up All the Spoons on memorial stuff, while also dealing with childish garbage on other fronts. Mulling over a sign on the Potsdam Museum reading THIS MUSEUM MATTERS, which is snagging in my thoughts like a popcorn hull in one's teeth. Nothing else to report; I'm actually curious to see Glass, and looking forward to an M Night Shyamalan movie in any capacity simply adds to the Spock's Beardness of these upside-down, dystopic times.