The work deciders have discouraged my use of over-the-ear headphones. My beloved Parrot Zik 2.0's now sit quietly in their case while I use earbuds. Allegedly my earbuds are more approachable, or something. As if I wanted to be approached. I listen to music because I don't want to know everyone's life. No more than I usually pick up on, anyway. People talk about dinner and pick-ups and drop-offs and weekend plans and I don't want it taking up space in my brain; this thing is pretty much full.

Also I could keep the earphones on without listening to music and it would serve at least to dull the office thrumming and hawing.

These earbuds I'm using now lack the sonic quality of the Parrots. The parrots sounds like I'm sitting in the middle of the band and they're all playing directly to me. More than once I've turned suddenly because I thought someone was speaking behind me, when it was only some surround sound magic.

Bose makes earbuds too. Might be justified. I'm fortunate to work in an environment where I can listen to music, after all, and I spend my money where I spend my time. Also on toys, although not much lately. Not since we got the house. Now I have to buy house-things.

There's also my money-saving scheme, which is the opposite of buying toys. I only have one credit card now, and it was at 15% interest. Screw that, I sez, and I take a loan out against my 401k for like 4% interest, and pay off the entire balance of the credit card. Now the credit card is still there for emergencies (and movie tickets because the app hates my debit card for some reason) and the loan payment comes out of my paycheck as a contribution to the 401k, so it's pre-tax. It should end up saving me something like 1,000 a year.

So now I'm broke, but not poor. Clawing my way towards not owing nuffing to nobody.

Except for the all the soul-debts. I haven't checked on those in a while.

Spent this morning thinking a little bit about the latest mass shooting. This one, last night in Las Vegas, was particularly lethal. We may have to create a new category for what we experience. The US could end up having over a hundred words for mass shootings, akin to the fable of the Eskimo and their many words for snow.

I'm going to see Bladerunner with Jake on Friday night. I hear it's not bad, which is good new

Beyond that, I have planned nothing. There is a wedding coming up this month, the weekend before Halloween. It is not a costumed affair, but still. I can wear a superhero undershirt and pretend I'm in my civilian disguise.

I've been musing on building a Wall-E costume. Cardboard is inexpensive, and versatile.

Spoke with my 65-year-old co-worker about partying. We both agreed that we don't party much anymore, but we used to back in the day.

Last night I lay in bed listening to music. I used to do that often. Lucid drowsing.

Erect a scaffold around myself to grow into. Who better to make me better. A pole in the ground to entwine and travel upwards. Have to grow up, that's where the sun is. I'd grow along the ground if not for the crowds.

Position on things 2017:

Vaccinations: Pro.

Climate Change: It is and humans are doing it.

Minimum Wage: Raise it; the companies that pay people that amount will continue to find ways to screw their workers out of it later, but at least the poor fools will have it in their hands for a little while.

Protesting: For it.

Super Nintendo Classic: Mixed feelings. I'd like to have one, but I can also set up an emulator (I've done it before) and play that way. Still, my first SNES was gifted to me by my parents for Christmas, and it's possible that somewhere embedded inside my soul is a need to establish that I am an individual, that I am not my parents, that I am not bound by their mistakes, or even obligated to achieve their levels of success.

Also the controller cords are really short on this one, too. Seems like that would be annoying as heck.

In my idle fancies, I imagine tracking down all the blogs and sites I linked to before my blog template crashed and I lost them. Somewhere buried in my gmail account is the HTML, I think. I could learn HTML, tinker and polish, try to restore. Internet antique restoration.

The librarian in me, perhaps. Whenever I read a book, I wanted to own it. To be able to hold it in my hand as proof that the experience I had reading it was a real thing. It happened; I lived it. This is folly, I know. Experiences ripple outward forever and cannot be contained, even by our memory of it.

My friends who are writers, who wrote and were read by me, are everything they always were, maybe even a few things more. We lived in the daylight, in a vibrant dormitory of ideas, with many windows and no doors.

I come to this web journal with no links and I see an empty building, dark hallways, and dust drifting upwards.

I kind of thought it would last forever. Or at least longer than everything else that never lasts.

Kelly and I went to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach, CA. It was neat. The aquarium is big on letting you touch animals. There was a touch pool for horseshoe crabs, another for rays, and even one for jellyfish. The jellyfish were stinging us, we were told, but the nematocysts couldn't pierce our skin. Still, I didn't touch my eyes after touching them.

We also went to Disneyland. That was fun.

Oh, and authentic German food. Strong, meaty, and sour. I liked it.

I slept poorly last night. Lots of dreaming. Felt like I was too aware of myself, stubbornly conscious of my unconscious. My sleep schedule has been a bit erratic these past few days. Lots of time to reflect. It's been harder to spout my "time is an illusion" quips, anyway, as I feel further away from certain moments. Misery markers and joy divisions.

My fifteen minutes are up, time to distract myself in a less obvious manner.

There is an instrument called a handpan that is essentially a small steel drum you can hold on your lap. The appeal for me is that the it makes me think I could play parts of the soundtrack to the film "Solaris" composed by Clint Mansell. The handpan can be made to a specific tuning, just like regular steel drums, I guess, so maybe I could get all the notes played on some songs, like "First Sleep" and "Don't Blow it".

Then, in times of uncertainty, I could sit and play "Don't Blow it" as I ruminate. Fortunately, playing the instrument looks a little silly, which should prevent me from slipping into full-on brooding.

Productivity tip I just read: When you're in a productivity slump, do "bad work."

This my explain my entire life...

Still, the tip got me here. I've been working out of the satellite office and it's beautiful. The building has lots of glass and I can watch the day go by. And see the streets that this job keeps me off of. So far, frayed jean vests have not come back in style with the local toughs which is a deal-breaker. My idea of a cool gang is 80's futuristic, and I'll swear no allegiance otherwise.

Dreams are something I used to have. Recently I dreamed I was a volunteer coordinator again. There was a lot of yelling.

My days are passing idly, work during the day, walking and playing PS4 in the evening. My hours also changed, and I no longer get up at 4:30 am. It's a little strange; I've been used to being up and about when the rest of the world was not. My circadian rhythms are more aligned with this schedule, which means I no longer have to fight my body's natural urges. I hope I don't fall out of practice.