On Furn's exertions and other adventures in (temporary) caffeine denial

An owl hooting nearby: haven't heard one in years, at least since I've lived here in The AC (10 years, +/-), sounds of the dark, sounds of the cold (Furn the Furnace getting a workout these last couple of days) – the children of the night, what music, etc etc.

Update: I liked yesterday's experiment very much – continuing it this morning, with the addition of using my Tasks app / Kanban boards in splitscreen with Obsidian to record specific tasks within The Work upon which to direct my occasionally wavering attention (current fiction work, AnotherFictionThing, is still too broad: working to bring it down to small assignments – if I accomplish nothing else this week, getting it to that small, subtaskery point will be considered a win).

In spite of the abundant backlog of content in Drafts that I'd like to clear out, I'm still not there on making a return to multiple postings per day; a little more flexibility, perhaps, but I still like the look and feel of these single combinatorial grotesques (as Montaigne would call them – a phrase I love and will gladly steal) each morning, a useful transition into the next part of the day.

Speaking of: to ensure timely return for Workblock2, deny self second cup of coffee until commencement of WorkBlock2; the day awaits.

ovenmittshuffle/scuffle(s)

(Being the placeholder for updated results of below experiment, perhaps).

Given that a.) by the time my hunger starts kicking in (+/-0630) – and that I really can't eat until +/- 0715 (go, T1D, thanks), I'm fairly useless at writing anything requiring deep focus, I'm trying something new this morning: splitting up the WorkMorning, writing this in the break-one/breakfast interregnum, consuming sustenance, publishing, feed dogchildren, kickballing, then back to MainThing until +/- 0930. Aforementioned balance of self-respect and daily return desire.

In other news: spent yesterday afternoon and evening in love with my new Kaweco AL-Sport until this morning when I found that it made – no matter how I held it – my hands hurt too much in order to control it. And lo, the Lamy2000 continues its reign – though the Kaweco is a wonderful pen, the tiny converter capacity being a notable and somewhat bothersome exception.

In more other and truly important news: Kirby, is, at present, on an ovenmitt (I spell ovenmitt like Spiderman, bite me spell check app spammers) kick: I've already taken two from him and I cannot vouch for the safety and security of other ovenmitts, secure though they may be (I give it another week or two before he figures out how to open doors and drawers). Ovenmitt sanctity and security will (perhaps) be similarly updated later in similar fashion to above experiment results; the day awaits.

voidwar snowball

Whenever I release anything, The Void – the antithesis of The Work – grows and grips, the only way to ameliorate being to make something else, to return to The Work – an amelioration which, in its end, eventually reconstitutes said Void thereby necessitating the begrudging acceptance that The Void is an omnipresent presence and that there's no way to avoid The Void (ha) but rather only ways to quiet it, temporarily: in the act of doing, of The Work – release; in the act of releasing, The Void.

Repeat, ad infinitum.

Morning’s other recognition being that structuring the workday is an exercise in balance-seeking between doing enough work to refuel your self-respect and not doing enough so you want to come back for more the next day.

(But then again, perhaps it is better to burn out than to fade away…)

Oh, wait, third realization: I never knew that all I ever wanted to see was a German Shepherd puppy being mystified by a snowball's vanishing act until I saw a German Shepherd puppy being mystified by a snowball's vanishing act.

Realizations being thus duly shared – and my TSR conversation with Abbott Kahler being live – the day awaits.

New TSR: Abbott Kahler

in

A return to socialization with Abbott Kahler, the New York Times best-selling author (as Karen Abbott) of SIN IN THE SECOND CITY, AMERICAN ROSE, LIAR TEMPTRESS SOLDIER SPY, and THE GHOSTS OF EDEN PARK, in which we discuss her first (professional) foray into fiction with WHERE YOU END, working titles, the process of forming a blueprint via 200+-page outlines (for the upcoming THEN CAME THE DEVIL) to harness the proliferation of weird across the page, living vicariously through characters you'd better find fascinating for four+ years, milk, cookies, ferociousness, convention-defying, and knowing upon whose blood you're stepping. Full episode here.

New socialization inbound

Update: latest socialization has arrived…

+++

Short one this morning: SOCIALIZED RECLUSE return - featuring SIN IN THE SECOND CITY, AMERICAN ROSE, LIAR TEMPTRESS SOLDIER SPY, and GHOSTS OF EDEN PARK author Abbott Kahler – imminent. Have to sort out the byzantine pod info stuff that I forget every time how to fill in but forget especially after five months of having not released a pod. Show notes/full description/description description/summary/WTF/IDK/FIIK; the day awaits.

Plans and pains via midnight Jorkies upon this day after MOON KNIGHT of nights

I want to see MOON KNIGHT now; that is (not) all.

After a midnight Jorkie barking spree, many futile trips to the snow-packed arctic tundra, and an inablity to fall asleep back to sleep, I feel more prominently the results of having shoveled – between digging us out to dig out Teh Oldze –all teh snows and the resultant manic blood swings, that see-saw of my life, Puny god, back and forth etc etc.

A plan begging for me to throw it out when reality smacks has come into view: I like this plan for it is a plan that gives me places to go, practical – if not as ambitious as previously thought – directions towards shuffling creatively rewarding notions into various states of being.

THE SOCIALIZED RECLUSE returns tomorrow; the day awaits.

Being demonstrative of both Kirby's snow excitement & The Jorkie's utter disdain of same

I haven't appreciated a snowfall this much since I was a kid – not that I particularly missed the snow or anything: I'm certain that this current fleeting appreciation will grow into barely contained loathing later, post-level two snow warning, as we (most likely will have to) venture forth to dig out Teh Oldze; for now, though, I'm going to let myself enjoy it – or, rather, I'm going to let myself see it through the eyes of young Kirby (almost a year old now) and his wild abandon as he barrels forth again and again and- at full tilt through and around and in and out and over and under –

– a joy balanced only by The Jorkie's utter disdain at the overnight accumulations, a disdain duly registered at 0430 by her stepping down one step onto the snow-laden porch (accumulations of which consumed most of her bowling-pin shaped body), taking a shit, and going back in the house – this being an apposite modeling of what I imagine my post-TehOldze-freeing disposition will be.

Breakweek from MainFictionThing has begun and I spent most of the morning assembling scattered remnants of what I had hoped would be Story0003 but found that they worked better in MainFictionThing thus relegating Story0003 to a tabula rasa – not a bad thing at all – and a playground for the current central creative question of the week, What haven't I tried that I'd like to? Some ideas, but still in that nebulous wander – might have resurrected an idea I gave up on ten years ago.

Shoveling shoveling shoveling and more adventures lie ahead; the day awaits.

Newsletter Sunday / Links 0064

While MacroParentheticals0064, the first of its new paid subscription iteration – along with the now NL-exclusive GROUND LOOP return and Sanctum access – arrives in +/- 60, I remain amused by last night's cinematic choice: started Guy Ritchie's THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. on IMDB TV and, while the film itself is a ridiculously fun romp, it’s the dissonance that the timing and content of the commercial breaks lend to the viewings that deepen said amusement. Current favorite: Solo says he's going out, the door opens – and we cut to an animated foot in an ad for DESPICABLE ME 3 followed by something about makeup. Will check out more IMDB TV offerings as well; can only hope that the charming dissonance continues.

A week in linkage:

UNCLE-related: Cavill would make a fantastic Bond – though I have a feeling he'd be more in the Roger Moore vein (which isn't my brand of vodka). And so it is and so it goes. MacroParentheticals 0064 – and THE GROUND LOOP's NL-exclusive return inbound; the day awaits.

Of 0200 phonescreeches and other Workthings

Still a bit groggy after a 0200 bodily-connected and bluetooth-enabled injected disc screamed OHMYFUCKYOURBLOODISLOW! from my arm to my phone but it was nothing that a few glucose tablets couldn't assuage. Weird dreams, though – usually the first tell-tale sign of an incoming phonescreech. Prior to the T1D and its brave new world of hypoglycemia, my strangest dreams came when I’d accidentally leave a nictotine patch on overnight (during one of my 11 quit attempts – the last one took, haven’t had a cigarette in ten years, go me / I still miss it every day); let me tell you, though, that the nicotine-patch dreams have NOTHING on the hypoglycemic dreams. NOTHING.

Last few days have made it clear that the time is nigh for me to turn my focus towards smaller projects (a third story is at the point where its disparate and far-flung modules are ready to be combined into something I hope is more than I had previously envisioned), clear out the backlog (final decisions on a non-fiction thing, among other thing-things), and rejuvinate my brain for the next deep dive into MainFictionThing: as it stands, the rhythmic potentialities are a muddle at best but I do, at least, have a general idea of where it's going – though no idea how to get there (which is how I prefer to work anyhow).

New MacroParentheticals tomorrow brings with it the first of the now newsletter-exclusive GROUND LOOPs (so I've got that going for me, which is nice).

Also: PEACEMAKER is fantastic; the day awaits.