Level 8-4

…better known as what I've come to call Sunday’s little apartment/matchbook development visitation, the lava-and-fireball-infused final level of the week in which the only axe dropped on Bowser's bridge is leaving and the knowledge that I have six-plus days until I have to go and do it again, six-plus days in which to figure out a way to frame what I find interesting in a manner interesting to them (I've yet to figure this one out) but such is, la dee da – at least the morning's work was fruitful; the day awaits.

Newsletter Sunday / Links0062

Yes I know that this isn’t the 62nd installment of this series; it is, in fact, the first. But I'm trying to match NL numbering, so there’s that then. In other: Plaguechristmas avoided for another week. Further victory. Macro0062 inbound; a week in inputs / avidities / motifications / etc etc:

Macro0062 + new exclusive thing and a snowyrun before Sunday visit joy of joys inbound; the day awaits.

INFINITE CGM incompatibilities

Welcome 2022, remarkable if for no other reason than my date schema will not have two ones in a row in YYYYMM bit for the next ten years. Victory, likewise, in culinary things: I have cracked veg bibimbap WITH A BOWL. Next addition: sriracha.

All went according to plan in yesterday's biweekly CGM switchout until my phone said that "this device is incompatible with this app" upon scanning myself. A look at the box – buried under the pharmacy label, of course – revealed that they had given me the model one instead of the model two, as the concealing label (and the previous CGM said), a case study in why we should not put two similar boxes next to each other on a shelf in a now-understaffed and overworked pharmacy which has been consistently behind and off-target since before Omicron – which means that for the next two weeks I'm back to my former methods of glucose checking (read: arm-scan every couple of hours since there are no alerts to warn me when I'm starting to go low); let the games begin.

(At least I have a healthy stockpile of happy pills.)

Returning to victories and completed missions: the Lego Typewriter is fully assembed and HALO INFINITE is finished – capping what was the most fun I’ve had with HALO since COMBAT EVOLVED all those years ago – though I still don't understand the mythology, a lack of which I’ve come to accept will be a forever thing.

Ahead: a run in the rain while basking in the continued glow of bibimbap success and assembly of tomorrow’s weekly newsletter; the day awaits.

Sweet potato KN95s

Dinner with friends last night a pleasant treat and marked the first time in +/- two years I've had to make a decision as to what clothes to wear and, unlike the bluetooth device implanted in my tricep to be changed out later today, I haven't lost pairing abilities plus THERE WERE SWEET POTATO FRIES VICTORY YES even though I'm not sure if the aforementioned friends will take my advice and name their upcoming baby Spike since he was conceived in the era of Covid (hey, they asked for boy's name suggestions; it would be unfriendly of me not to duly provide) but hey one out of two isn’t bad... KN95s have arrived and familial distribution / retribution will begin this weekend – quite comfortable, actually (the mask, not the family part)... and I'm becoming - gasp - happier with AnotherFictionThing's progress: there's something there, waiting the persistence of the chisel/the scalpel; the day awaits.

I care carbs

Zipping past at a comfortable 60mph I couldve sworn that the backroad grocery sign said I CRAVE CARBS but, on the third double take it was revealed to say I CARE CARDS which says far more about my current state of mind than the current state of signage but it does drive home the point that – connective tissue be damned – T1D life is fucking hard, your continued existence being contingent upon your ability to make the correct(est) choices and properly dose a criminally expensive uncontrolled substance four to seven times a day while attempting to present a modicum of normalcy to your life and to yourself while accepting the truth that, whether you like it or not, this is a large part of – the third or fourth full-time job - your life but hey, in other news BOOK OF BOBA FETT was solid but not the revelation that those first episodes of THE MANDALORIAN were and REVOLVER remains The Beatles' best album – For No One McCartney's best, Tomorrow Never Knows easily in the top five of Lennon's – and there's no point in fighting me on this because I'm right, send I CARE CARDS or CARBS in care of/; the day awaits.

Less Bob-Evans-y

Not only did I cook near-perfect perch last night but I used the phrase "less Bob-Evansy" WRT a character this morning so I've got BOTH of those plaudits going for me (which is nice), remarkable truths which seem to be all I've got for you/from me this morning – though wait, no: I did order more blackout curtains because embracing the dark or the dork or whatever by constructing walls that arent walls but are within the sanctity of my Sanctum is the order of Christmas break; the day awaits.

tue/20211228

While DUNE is undeniably a masterpiece – visual, narrative, etc etc – Timothee Chalamet's greatest hit – and, for me, 2021's best line of dialogue/cinematic moment – was his exuberance over fingerling potatoes in DONT LOOK UP: may we all aspire to that fleeting joy – right up there with Mal Evans and his anvil – when we're face-to-face with the extermination of all life on Earth, which, given the way we're going, will probably be sooner rather than later but hey; the day awaits.

mon/20211227

A few notions circling this morning…

  • … that my personal style is a combination of George Harrison and Doctor Strange through a filter of exhausted, bicep-separated dog-walker.

  • … that there's something that I want to play with in the MainFictionThing that came to me this morning that I don’t know if I’m brave enough to try but maybe IDK...

  • … but then again there’s this pervasive existential dread of late that I'll die without accomplishing anything I set out to do etc etc, a dread stemming, in all likelihood, from a combo of too many half-days of work in a row (I hate the holidays) while watching DON'T LOOK UP (which is fantastic, BTW, this era's DR STRANGELOVE) and aforementioned holiday-infused frustration.

  • … and digging deeper, perhaps: dismay that after knowing for all of my adult life that I didn't want children (except for dogs) – and still not wanting children (except for dogs) and being friends with perhaps the only two remaining childless couples across this heartlandic wasteland – I've nonetheless allowed much of the last ten years be dictated by children – be they older or younger, in-laws or niece or mother – only half of whom I'm capable of liking at any one point in time (though the niece is a general constant of liking – she's a cool kid, even when – especially when – she kicks my ass at MARIO KART), a truth which does sadden me: as much as I'm doing my best to avoid resentment and not attach its poison to them, I've become, nonetheless, less able to do so…

  • … though I anticipate that it will most likely pass or fade into tolerable background noise with the passing of the holidays maybe.

The day awaits.