We will miss you, Greta.
Brio tracks, Magna-Tiles & last night’s dried spaghetti crunch underfoot — not just the morning after, but a seemingly permanent state of being.
… Oh, and tortilla chips too.
I was going to say this shit is killing me, but that’s not a great idiom when it is literally killing other people.
Apple is more and more deserving of a critical look at their business, but there never fails to be a WWDC where I am not tempted to install the betas.
Glad to have what can be a test machine alongside the work machine, and I think I’ll wait for the public betas this year.
I thoroughly appreciate old time radio podcasts (and their progenetors — old time radio broadcasts, like WAMU’s “The Big Broadcast”). Today I am enjoying Duane Old Time Radio’s “The Complete Orson Welles” and the latest posting of an Adventures of Harry Lime, “Too Many Crooks.”
I am beginning to remember life in DC that wasn’t about the pandemic or about work. Getting outside helps—always has. Keep moving. Sleep hard.
Trying not to fall into the trap of too much woe-is-me drama and our COVID-isolating household. But I do wish the not-yet-3-year-old would somehow maintain a schedule for himself so the rest of us could get some work done or at least have energy to catch-up after he went to bed reliably at a reasonable hour.
There.
I hear the tiny violins already.
I’ve been saying trite things, but I am just heartbroken over the Buffalo and Uvalde mass shootings… and the massive sucking noise of our civic and governmental failure.
Bedtime in the time of COVID
Trying to coax my two year old to bed, I feel my energy drain and my ambition to catch-up on work ebb as his arm reaches out for me on my third visit to get him back to bed. His pats on my head as he snuggles kill any desire to fully awaken and get some work done.
We’ve all been under house arrest for nine days and we’ve got 5 more based on the staggered positive cases and varying vaccination states.
“Cheese toastie” is not a thing. Don’t listen to your mother kid, it’s a grilled cheese.
Trawling through 20 year old emails and mourning missed opportunities. Maybe, finally, learning some lessons…
The trillions of dollars in “profits” of the fossil fuel industry are really just a high interest loan with the rest of us as collateral.
“You paid us more than if you had been telling us the truth, and enough more to make it all right.” — Bogie as Sam Spade, and the motto of the giants and certain niche mercenaries of the PR industry.
A whisky in hand and Bogie on the biggest screen in the house.
Day 9: Bloom
Day 8: Union
Day 7: Park
Day 6: Silhouette
Day 5: Earth
Day 4: Thorny. Also, cliche.
Day 3: Experimental. This whole democracy thing.
So far it all jibes. It’s fucked, but it jibes.
Day 2: Photo
Currently reading: The Ministry for the Future: A Novel by Kim Stanley Robinson 📚
…reminded its been on my list for a couple of years now with a very specific news article in the New York Times, which closely matched the opening pages I had sampled previously.
Finished reading: Termination Shock: A Novel by Neal Stephenson 📚
Appreciated this, and many of his past works, I think as shallowly and as deeply as needed but was prompted to consider that with the latest On The Media.