I miss comic books. To be more precise, I miss walking into places where comic books are present. I collected them for a time, but to me they are worth something more. Back in those days, someone labored over those drawings. They put on the Velvet Underground or whatever, and they created at their desk. The finish product was paper, something tangible that I could pick up and admire. I miss that. Goodnight everyone, and to those of you who actively seek to create something beautiful in this world: keep going. I love ya.

GN. And sleep peacefully, Detroit.

GN.

My absolute favorite movie of all time, for those keeping score. I almost fell asleep on three separate occasions the first time I tried to watch it, which is a feature, not a bug. I once tried to explain this movie to someone, when asked what it's about: "It's hard to explain. It's about how we reject the transcendent even when we're on the cusp of it, always preferring to retreat back in to the familiar, even when the familiar is banal and unfulfilling." "...oh." "Yeah, you'd fall asleep in thirty seconds."

GM. Always nice to wake with a little rebellion, Dylan’s “Maggie’s Farm” ringin in yer ears.

GN all.

I don't hop on Twitter than often anymore, but what's all this about boosted posts and points and pay-to-win garbage? Man. Hello Nostr. We might be a little janky around these parts, but at least we ain't doin' that.

GN all.

The mistake is not in the populace uniting to oppose Data Centers: AI is dumb, the average person doesn't care about it and sees it as an annoying intrusion in to the computing experience (Microslop), and we all know it's overhyped. The mistake is in presuming that the Data Center coming to a cornfield near you is going to be constructed post-IPO. Some will, some won't, but yours is likely a line on a sheet to drive that valuation into the atmosphere. Fake money. Fake money everywhere.

GN good people.

Have been playing with this morning. Good stuff. View quoted note →

Real talk for a second: speaking as a confessor, you would not believe how many people really struggle with this. I was at a conference once where someone once asked a priest giving the presentation if he had any advice for brother priests. He said, "Yes. Stop watching the news." View quoted note →

The short-spine syndrome raccoon out of Seattle, affectionately named "Jimothy," is a national treasure.

Tomorrow is, after all, a new day. GN all.

Structural integrity: low.

Needless to say, I did not do a kettlebell farmer's carry at 5 AM as planned this morning.

Dear Canada, Thanks for the poutine and the Tim Horton's. Now let's talk. I live in Illinois. It's not a nice place to live. Especially in July and August. We have humidity rivaling the rainforest on the most rainforesty of days. It's a miserable place filled with agriculture and taxes. I don't recommend it to you, Dear Canada, even if you know a thing or two about taxes yourselves. Canada, our misery being what it is, with dew-points that would melt you and make a European heatwave death count look like a good warmup to the grand 'ole bloody conclusion: please do not add to it with your smoke. It smells like the most unsatisfying barbecue of all time outside right now. My eyes are actually burning. Please keep that crap up there, even as we keep our horrific humidity down here. We each have enough to deal with on our own terms. Thank you for your attention.

My current jam. Such a simple song lyrically, but wonderfully complex in the ways that matter. Kathryn is such a gifted songwriter.