new approach

A shift in my writing practice, from the daily guilt-ridden grind of days, weeks, years past to a more "blast all of it in a few weeks or days when the need strikes" now. Perhaps what I was needing was something like metalwork (and my resultant newfound obsession with 3D printing not only to reproduce metalwork in plastic but to design pots for K since I found scanning and printing different versions of existing ones to be onerous, to put it mildly) to fulfill me in the non-writing parts of my day. Which are a lot of them. Far happier and more fulfilled, creatively, away from the computer, playing with fire and sparks and making weird metal things, than I am staring at a screen and hating myself for not being able to write something no one will read anyhow.

But yes, a new approach. Toying with the notion of blasting out a novella or something in a short time frame, two weeks to a month, when the need to write strikes me; otherwise, I'll tinker with metal stuff and mini-comics and Singularities and etc. A note to myself in my Obsidian canvas: long-form ≠ long-term.

Now I have figure out how to assemble this 3D printer cover because a shed is not the most dust-free place for a 3D printer to while away its non-whirring hours.

Didn’t think my experience with insulin pump dosage adjustment would have so much experiential transfer to 3D printing, but it does. Whole thing makes a lot more sense now.

Social media increasingly makes me think of a great line from Dylan's "Mississippi": "Got nothing for you / had nothing before / don't even have anything for myself anymore."

After welding his eye back in from a scan attempt fall, I managed to get a solid 3D scan of Giuseppe. Now to figure out how to go from green blob on-screen to blob of printed, corporeal plastic.

When you write a post about a thing you’re thinking of doing and decide, before you finish writing the post, that you’re not going to do that thing you were thinking of doing.

i miss the days of looking at the internet in wonder and/or bemusement as opposed to abject horror.

Approaching writing as a foundational part of my creative practice and not of my identity has been the best lockpick for my brain-prison escape.

Figured out why Eggers's take on NOSFERATU left me wanting: the story was already told so perfectly in Murnau's version – sans dialogue and fleshing out / expansion of the story – that nothing Eggers brought to it wasn't already there, lurking below the surface and captured by Murnau and the original players. Don't get me wrong: still loved Eggers's interpretation – though I was felt that I was watching more an effective homage than a bold new take; had I not seen Murnau's film so many times – indeed, been raised on it –, I might hold a different opinion.

The most important life lesson that a lifetime of playing video games has taught me is to kick every crate I see.

Metalwork has given me a creative charge and excitement that I haven’t felt since I got my first drumset 30-some years ago.