Monday, October 12, 2020

I'm most interesting when I'm dreaming. In the waking world, I am constantly disappointed by the rigidity of it all. No mythological creatures, no countries that never existed, no perspective but my own. 

I'm writing this on my phone. Even this marvelous ability doesn't mean everything it could. 

Saturday, September 26, 2020

Let the pups sleep on the bed in the hopes that I could sleep in bit. Mixed results. Bun-Bun heads right for the pillows, but Mabel absolutely must sleep on me or at least curled up next to me. For those that don't know, I don't like being touched while I'm seriously trying to sleep. It's not entirely selfish; I toss and turn and even kick. I'm concerned for your safety, you see. 

I'll snuggle during a nap, because I'm not expecting to fall into a deep sleep.

So it looks like we're napping now. 

Watson and Marceline are also up here but they know the deal. Marceline will even get up and leave if I'm moving around too much. 

These pups have a lot to learn. 

Monday, May 18, 2020

Every night...well, almost every night, I fall asleep listening to old horror stories. Mostly H. P. Lovecraft. I don't watch a lot of horror movies these days. But I still enjoy the literature.

It's been years since I booted up this old computer. Mostly I use my chromebook. But after the boys stopped coming over every day because of Ye Olde Pandemic, I've done some remodeling of the game room. Put up some shelves. Got a VGA to HDMI convertor to use this 39 inch TV as a monitor. It's too big. Or rather, I'm too small. I feel like a child sitting too close to the TV. The words...are huge. Intimidating. I could close my eyes. Type away. Listening to Max Richter re-mixing them sweet Vivaldi tunes. 

All my old iTunes playlists are still here. Still have all the playlists I made for the twins. Feist, Fleet Foxes, Imogen Heap, They Might Be Giants, Sigur Ros, Iron and Wine. I think they liked them. 

I remember getting them a CD player, because I wanted them to play an album all the way through. Interact with the music. Spend some time with it. Not be overwhelmed with choices. 


Oh yeah, I turned 38. How interesting, to be 38. It feels very much like being any other age. And I find that interesting.

In some ways, I'm stronger than I've ever been. In other ways, not as strong as I have been. My knee still hurts when I run, but it's been like that for a long time. Hard to remember when it didn't.

What else...oh yeah, sometimes my lower back hurts. Not as bad as that time I was doing back handsprings in the club and I messed up some disk in my back. At least I think that's what it was; I didn't have insurance so I just kept dancing. 

I don't dwell on it much. I don't really remember my age. When people ask, it takes me a second. Like I said, every age feels the same. 

Ah, the reason I dug this machine out of the closet was for role-playing (roll-playing?) on D20. The chromebook was struggling. Playing "Call of Cthulhu", seventh edition, I think? Putting some of my slumbertime studying to good use. So far I've survived/won every game (of all 3 games I've played so far) but the thing about Lovecraft, and life I suppose, is that if you play long enough you'll run into something you can't beat.

I opened my eyes again. The words don't seem so big anymore. Bright though. 

I thought I had a program on here called Greenscreen or something like that. Word-processor-type program that looked like an old 80's computer. Green letters on black background. I knew them, briefly. Also I worked at an insurance company that had an archive directory that still used DOS.

Dark Room! That's it. Ooh, I still have it. Could be very useful for night-writing. 

In case I ever do that again.


Saturday, March 14, 2020

Hot Take: Americans, taken as a whole, are not great at understanding science. Accordingly, we're not great about explaining science.

Scientific observation tells me that an illness that may require hospitalization is spreading in a population. The population isn't vaccinated against it, so we can't rely on herd immunity to protect the most vulnerable people like we do with other diseases.

Discussions on the lethality of the virus are something we can have, but it's not necessary. It's not zero percent, is the point.

The ability of our healthcare system to treat the people who need to be treated to prevent their death is not 100 percent.

Somewhere in between those two numbers is where our differences of opinion lie.

I'm not worried about myself, for example, but I am worried about the same people that I'd be worried about if they got the flu.

I'm also worried that if they all get sick at the same time, they won't get the help they need.

Pick a hundred people you care about. Now pick 2 you're okay with being hospitalized.

Now pick one of those to be turned away from a hospital because there's no room for them.

My personal goal is to slow the spread of the disease so it doesn't overwhelm our healthcare services. If I get sick personally, I have stuff like insurance, personal savings, sick time at work, and generally good health on my side.

I almost just deleted this post because I was thinking what's the point. I guess the point is that I think I understand why you feel the way you do, and that whatever happens, I'm planning on trying to help you through this. Nothing is certain, whatever happens happens, and I am on the watch. For whatever that's worth. It's not zero percent, at least.

Sunday, March 08, 2020

The golden age of blogging. Writing for no reason, it wasn't really monetized yet, and pictures were used sparingly, if at all.

Also my laptop was too slow to work on other stuff at the same time. I'd throw on a CD, sit at my desk, and write. Not having to be up early in the morning was also useful.

Where can I go from here?

Tuesday, February 18, 2020

There was a bit of a collective online astonishment over the publication of some article about some people having no internal monologue. I felt little surprise because as far as I can remember, I've considered it to be something I would call "the narrative voice." Our thoughts (I believe) are like a thunderstorm, and what we recognize as narrative voice is only the lightning.

The refinement of thought into a distinct form. It's the art we make in our own heads. One of the arts.

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Update! Watson is feeling good. He's back to his old self, stealing food off the counter, and biting your face if you sniff his ears.