Of Wrist splints and Wet Floors

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Spent an hour yesterday afternoon sitting in the worker's comp doctor's parking lot while K had her wrist and knee examined: fell in the water-soaked bathroom at school, landed on both. X-Rays show a bruised up knee and a possible hairline fracture on her wrist. Given that she suffers from psoriatic arthritis, she's presently in a world of hurt. We're both relieved, though – it could have been so much worse.

(Cue my repression of urge to strangle the child who left the bathroom faucet on or whatever the bastard hooligans do for kicks in these, our days of plague but, if nothing else, I managed to get a bit of Lapham's Quarterly's "Scandal" issue read: I'm fascinated by that magazine – but I still want to strangle the offending child.)

A lesson learned: when a non-current project notion pops up during main, pre-breakfast work, I write it down but view it with suspicion until I check blood sugar at breakfast: if it's high, I file it said notion under "maybe.” If it's normal, I move ahead.

I'm moving ahead with it – and I might even release something into the wild this afternoon, assuming I haven't tracked down the water-spewing child and strangled them in the interregnum.

Comment System Loathe / Obsidian Love No. 1068.3

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Current siteissue attempting to figure: the comment system. Talked with a friend last night who informed me that he is not notified when I respond to one of his comments on a post. Brief testing / QA later, we have indeed found that no one is notified when I reply to their comment, which sort of kills the appeal of a comment system in the first place.

I've considered installing Disqus, but: in addition to other numerous and well-documented unfortunates, it's bloated – which is the last thing I want (nor do I want to turn your comments over to advertisers and have to pay an extra $132 a year for Scott and I to talk to each other in public). I could turn on the "simple liking" function, but I switched here to get rid of the need for hearts and likes so to hell with that. Discord chat stream? Eh. I don't understand Discord (I don’t even know how to share my username here). I want to understand Discord. Maybe this is the way to do it? But, eh, effort...

Until I get this figured, I've turned off the commenting system. Thoughts on alternatives welcome – just email me if you've got an idea. I've added a "Something to say about something I said" checkbox in the contact form. (Starting to think that the “comment via email” method is the way to go.)

In other news, you may file this bit of wonderful under why I love Obsidian, reason 1068.3: I've found a community plugin that automatically generates a list of updated files in my Daily Notes document. Much easier than trying to keep up with myself as I go through the process of processing – and it lets me use my shitty handwriting / notebook for capturing loose thoughts and stray thinkings. Think I'll make it a thing to hit that button during my post-dinner shutdown and have it ready for the next day.

Back to work.

Island Books and Renewals

Dense fog, in more ways than one.

But, this has been on my mind a bit:

Alongside that desire to provide an alternative to Apple et al’s overbearing tech-takeover, was an idea to ‘revive the extinct genre of the same name—the “island books” that emerged at the start of the Renaissance’, as the blurb goes. In those island books, ‘were poems, stories, and artworks—each a supposed island, a space that held a singular idea’ and this is precisely what Sebastian and India have created: ‘A growing archipelago. Islands from which to view the world anew.’

My fascination with an independent magazine approach to everything is growing by the day; in a way, I realize that, with the newsletter and my other various forms of creative expression – stories, pods, my morning meanderings – I've been doing just that, albeit in digital form. But I do want to and am exploring a physical magazine/zine offering: isolarri's model is especially appealing - and beautiful.

Never underestimate the incredible peace that ensues when you unsubscribe from every DNC-related email list; if you want to study the worst newsletter practices, force yourself to read campaign blasts: 99% of them reek of desperation and hackneyed writing jobs that offer nothing beyond a sense of powerlessness so then again I suppose they do ably represent our body politic.

Website renewal went through so you're stuck with me for another year.

Small Talk Grogu Pinata

Survived another Sunday – I say survive because Sunday is my least favorite day of the week, the afternoon of small talk, of visiting, a reminder of everything I've spent the week trying to avoid, a reminder of all of my failures but, on the bright side, hot dogs.

As a result of the afternoon of zilch and soul-sucking small talk, I came home and engaged in one of my periodic Sanctum rearrangements: desk back against the wall, more open. Helps me to vanish into The Work – and has the side benefit of being a bit more open for Kirby to wander and gift me with torn toys which is always helpful, even though most of my mornings are spent removing pieces of paper from Kirby's mouth.

Think I've wandered into the morning's best iteration: three hours of work on The Main Thing (of the day) – two before breakfast, one after – then compile the various scraps accrued over yesterday and this morning into this piece before departing the house and running around in a circle for six miles to start the process all over again, the goal being that, when I leave for the run, my mental wells are completely dry and that the remainder of the day will be spent on other peoples' work and refilling said well.

Also: KATE is a solid actioner if for no other reason than being proof that Mary Elizabeth Winstead needs to have more starring roles.

The day awaits.

ISOLARRI

(via magculture):

Alongside that desire to provide an alternative to Apple et al’s overbearing tech-takeover, was an idea to ‘revive the extinct genre of the same name—the “island books” that emerged at the start of the Renaissance’, as the blurb goes. In those island books, ‘were poems, stories, and artworks—each a supposed island, a space that held a singular idea’ and this is precisely what Sebastian and India have created: ‘A growing archipelago. Islands from which to view the world anew.’

My fascination with an independent magazine approach to everything is growing by the day; in a way, I realize that, with the newsletter and my other various forms of creative expression – stories, pods, my morning meanderings – I've been doing just that, albeit in digital form. But I do want to and am exploring a physical magazine/zine offering: isolarri's model is especially appealing - and beautiful.

Bask in the Glory That is a Thousand Blank Index Cards

... for they will one day contain my brain, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof, illegibilities and imperfections abundant...

(I do appreciate that the pack itself was partially opened in delivery and like to pretend that someone checked it to make sure it wasn’t a boxfull of cocaine bricks or something; we all have our addictions, I suppose.)

This morning has been – in a complete 180º from yesterday's clusterfuck – one of those unicornal (I've made up an adjective) rarities: a good writing morning, a phenomenon loosely characterized by feeling as though I've gotten somewhere even if tomorrow might prove it to be nothing but an illusion but that's for tomorrowme to decide; todayme will take the little victory.

Large part of this has been my if-not-new-then-at-least-evolving approach to composing fiction: I’ve written (and deleted) scads of materiel over my shift to Obsidian and a zettelkasten approach, but I had, until this morning, largely let that approach apply only to non-fiction.

And, oh, what a change it's been – a change I intend to explore in greater detail in an upcoming essay / longer newsletter piece / something else (along with this shift in methodology has come the realization that I need at least one more form to fully express what I'm trying to express through my words, written or spoken): best thing, so far: as my concept of what a first draft is transforms (to be discussed in intended), my perfectionistic tendencies have gone by the wayside, freeing me up to try new and weird combinations, with the caveat that I must continue to learn to embrace the chaos, such as: day before last, a squirrel rode a fallen tree limb from the top of a tree to the driveway and, though stunned, walked it off.

Doorframe Hazards

Good morning; it's currently 46ºF under sunny skies and we have all had our sustenance, omelets and kibble, etc. etc. My blood sugar has tanked into the green (a good thing) for reasons as yet inexplicable but whatever they are, I'll take them.

Morning's work a struggle. Turned to morning pages – either a sign of desperation or a useful exercise, or both - which, similarly, yielded nothing.

That said: throwing out everything you had written on that nonfic essay/comics thing yesterday afternoon and starting from scratch ended up yielding more than you had written in its previous iteration. This might become something after all. In this case, then, it was all worth it.

Item: considering taking MacroParentheticals bi-weekly to shorten the monthly dispatch from the normal 1300-1500 words to a more digestable 500-750. Thoughts welcome in comments below.

Pro tip: when you get your first royalty check after earning out on your first book the only real option is to bulk-buy a thousand index cards for your brain catalog. And CGM sensor covers – because the Libre is great, until you run into something and rip it off. Door frames, in particular, being a hazard. Also, puppy. These sensor covers keep my anti-theft device snug as a bug and require only, in return, a fortnightly sacrifice of a layer of skin upon removal.

The day awaits.