backyard: progress/20220610

in

(previously…)

  • Fence remains vertical, no attachment required.

  • Thistlewar has ended on both sides of the yard. Hands are suitably shredded – but I prevailed. See next item.

  • Weedeater is fixed. Used blade to win Thistlewar. It still counts as a victory.

  • New shed door is installed. Kirby was a big help, especially when he stole my grandfather’s gloves.

  • The lock on the gate is now unstuck and working better than it had before when it was rusted shut which I guess isn't saying much but it opened so there.

  • Pond UV filter won't fit. Moved to backburner and after my "redo all the plumbing to make it hose and not PVC" project which is on the deep backburner.

  • Next up: Wisteria will be transplanted from front porch and its favorite climbing spot of the main electric line to the pergola to make a cover – and give it more sun. And less danger of me getting electrocuted and/or burning down the house which is nice.

  • Also: mulch. Much mulch.

  • In-lawn tomorrow. Ratchet strap mower deck still holding.

cauliflower transitions

in

update/20220610119: MainFictionThing lives to for another day – though I still fight on with the cauliflower. Rubber duck debugging for the win.

+++

Much more important – and far more difficult - to me than the first sentence is the transition between the first and second paragraph (or track, or scene, or... ): in the traversal of that valley lies the work's tone and character and the first clause in the contract with reader/listener/viewer/player): what can they expect for the duration – to be thrilled? to be held by the hand, guided gently through this narrative concoction? to be confounded?  challenged? whiplashed around?...

Reminded of the scene in GET BACK in which George is struggling to find the words for what would become "Something" – "Attacts me like no other... " – and John tells him to sing nonsense until the word comes, "Attracts me like a cauliflower" being his offering; I've been attracted to the cauliflower for awhile now, my own failure to find the right shift being the cause of more than one work – and potentially this one, MainFictionThing – being condemned to the Purgatory file.

Back to slamming my head on the desk and thinking of cauliflower.

(Might develop this into the open garage door section of the next MacroParentheticals or this might be all I have to say on it. )

impositional affinities

in

Tiny success: after banging my head repeatedly against the desk over thinking I had to arrange the zine pages myself in a "print layout for folded double sided pages that will actually reflect the intended page order and not some horrific mutant" guide?" and getting a kind response (thanks Stacy) and guide, learning that they're called "impositions" (indeed), I did further research and found that Affinity Publisher does it for you in the print / export to PDF settings thus relieving copious stress and much hair pulling even though I already cut my long covid-hair back to a short summer cut because my black hair in the summer makes me yearn to go grey which, in spite of life’s best efforts over recent months, has yet to happen.

this is what happens when i am unable to string two words together and

in

this is me typing up anything that resembles words one after the other after the other and no still theres nothing but someone is barking at something somewhere and k is reading louise erdrich on the couch and eating popcorn while i stare at this screen with a matte me shadowreflection staring back or maybe its just the glare from my cheap monitor light which i still love and did you know that that butterfly bench came apart far more easily than i anticipated thanks bolt cutters and the spray paint is still sticking to the butterfly on the wall of the house and the squirrels are leaving it alone for now but theres the timer times up so theres that then

“we’ve already been there and nobody paid any attention”

in
"It’s harder to imagine the past that went away than it is to imagine the future. What we were prior to our latest batch of technology is, in a way, unknowable. It would be harder to accurately imagine what New York City was like the day before the advent of broadcast television than to imagine what it will be like after life-size broadcast holography comes online. But actually the New York without the television is more mysterious, because we’ve already been there and nobody paid any attention. That world is gone."

backyard: progress/20220606

in

  • Fence has been straightened and reinforced. Got to play with a chainsaw, the hallmark of any fun project. Will hopefully bring neighbor's passive-aggressive "are you thinking about repairing your fence" to a conclusion / FWIW my response: "are you thinking about telling your screaming children to shut the fuck up?"

  • Next task: fasten new posts to old fence.

  • ThistleWar has ended on one side of the yard. Needed to win to reach the fence to facilitate above completion. Did not find K's missing garden fork. Did find several of Kirby's absconded pots and ball remnants and a table and chairs.

  • Have to fix weedeater. (Update/202206061415: I have fixed the weedeater.)

  • New shed door in process of being produced. The critters that call the space under the floor home will not be pleased that they have to find a new entrance.

  • The lock on the gate remains rusted shut. Bolt cutters and/or dynamite might be needed to get the mower out to mow the front yard.

  • Butterfly bench disassembled and repainted and hung above window baskets to finally fill in that huge center spot on the house. Spray paint outlines remain in the yard.

  • Pond project: install UV algae fighter thing. Chainsaw again?