Day 14 of the celestial wander - or maybe it's night, one can hardly tell among the endless twinkling infernos. The chart indicated a clear course towards the Whispering Nebula but here we are, adrift in an ironic whirlpool of our own making. Compass spins aimlessly, perhaps contemplating existentialism. Read more on whirlpool chaos.
The stars have been particularly unhelpful today, evading our grasp like a cat avoiding a bath. The once-promising trajectory has now devolved into a trial of patience and starry exasperation. Crew insists on consulting the astrolabe at every juncture; I suspect it has developed a grudge against rational thought. Consult the astrolabe's grudge.
We mistakenly followed a comet, mistaking its fiery tail for the last signpost of sanity. The encounter was brief but dazzling, and the crew celebrated with starry-eyed glee. One operatic outburst later, we find ourselves in a void of ironic solitude, discussing the merits of cosmic opera versus nautical nonsense. Cosmic Opera vs Nautical Nonsense.