pod vexations

in

(Update, 1227: pod episode complete and, unless I find something else to screw up, ready for release tomorrow.)

55ºF, fog fog fog: a short one today as I'm in the throes of putting together the next SOCIALIZED RECLUSE episode (should be live later this week) and fumbling / fighting with cross fades, etc: first time doing the show by adding the theme music in after I've recorded the intro/outro and the remnants of my musician's ear are flummoxed by issues rhythmic/amplification but hey I see we've reached the "FDA has to warn people not to cook chicken in Nyquil" phase of civilization so we've got that going for us.

Also, standing desk converter is brilliant. Will write more about it, maybe, once I get to more fully work with it.

nevermind

in

65ºF, rain, thunder: seems like I only needed a few days off: guess I do like the ritual, the rhythm, the routine of these daily things. I'm stuck with me, sorry.

Worked this morning getting back to the initial flash of inspiration or desperation on what will prove either a distraction or something moderately worthwhile; if nothing else, my brain has ceased the concoction of alternative paths so that's as good a sign as any that i landed on the right one.

(Was I able, though, to get to this something moderately worthwhile because I wasn't clogged up with morning things here?)

Standing desk converter (apparently) arriving later today: I've made so many improvised ones over the years, it was time to splurge and invest in an actual for-real one. My back will thank me.

slowdown

in

Here endeth the daily things, a return to the whenever/whatevers: lots in my brain, lots to focus on, and the point of the daily iteration fading. LAST CHRISTMAS, did, after all, come from several posts in the whenever / whatevers here so the approach DOES work and does help (also, the week categorization system makes this space more amenable to the w/w approach).

Thinking of:

"Stay at home in your mind. Don't recite other people's opinions. See how it lies in you; and if there is no counsel, offer none. What we want is not your activity or interference with your mind, but your content to be a vehicle of the simple truth."

Not putting this here for you or for anyone, really, but for me: a record made, kept.

fri/20220916

in

55ºF, clear, yet foggy: finding that standing helps even more than I had previously thought: think it has to do with that movement – and my muscle memory of percussion, of standing and moving to different instruments, in this case, keyboard to iPad to writing by hand (and, in a nod to my past iteration, to practice pad for GL Stone's STICK CONTROL exercises – helps me think): Walter Murch called it a dance, as he stands while editing, and, unsurprisingly, Mr Murch is correct.

Helps too, that I finally found a use for Muse: while Obsidian is my default brain – and, largely, the home of each final document – , Muse is a digital version of how I think: details, relationships between paragraphs, how they move and interact: deep focus boards (on the Mac, the big screen) within big picture boards (on the iPad) to work and manipulate those relationships. So far, haven't encountered any vanishing text issues in this Muse-era: relief, though one eye remains, as ever, open.

Donations made to candidacies of Tim Ryan, Nan Whaley, Stacey Abrams, Raphael Warnock, John Fetterman, Charlie Crist, and Beto O'Rourke: always feels good to contribute though I wish part of the contribution would involve a "minimal emails" option.

thu/20220915

in

56ºF, clear-ish: monitor + keyboard riser + Obsidian + ipad + Muse + standing desk + pen and paper = a winning combo, a dance between different elements, between different phases and sides, etc etc, all coming together for the final whatever-it-ends-up-as. In theory, anyhow.

Post-great-aunt-funeral haze continues: a combo, I think, of too much socializing and of too much telling the story of how my mother died (thanks for not wanting an obit: now I have to explain to everyone that you're dead when they ask – I swear, if more had asked how I was or if I needed help when you were alive, I mightve been possessed of if not a different set of emotions then at least more qualified ones) mixed with a general dissatisfaction of current path and no clear modification to vary it.

Staring at Twitter, my fourteen years of it, and I have no clue – other than a general pervasive addiction and hope that somehow something will materialize from it (meaning that my buying into the hook/line has become learned and habitual) – just what the hell I'm doing there: have to learn to be content with toiling here in my own little corner of the ether of indifference. Working on it.