1973 Ford Falcon
“I could just roll and roll,” Jeremy said, as much to her as to himself. They each said their goodbyes, which were unremarkable and not much more than nods. She backed away from the old Ford Falcon and into the dust, and the boy beside her slipped his dark hand into her lighter one.
Compiled sfeed on tilde.institute and now have it running on a cronjob. Readied a patch for lowdown to better render blockquotes in nroff. Reported a memory leak in Shiori. Deleted Instagram off my phone. Again.
Paced in circles as I made my morning coffee at midday. Songs for Sad Poets for free. Checked stats too often. I gotta stop doing that. Watched Kill Bill: Vol. 1 but fear I may not get to watch Vol. 2 tomorrow.
Got confirmation that the timeline for the house will work out, so I will be moving back to Brisbane in a month. Pocket is shutting down; it took me a couple of minutes to spin up an instance of Shiori on PikaPods. I’m very impressed so far. Now playing:
Cheryl
Cheryl was watching the Equal pellets disappear below the surface of her coffee when Craig said, “Did you know seventy-seven percent of Americans believe in angels?”
Removed every one of my 1000+ Letterboxd ratings. I feel a weight has been lifted. Now it’s just those with a heart, signifying true love.
Second day of isolation. Wrote a pretty good opening to my catalogue essay about the Suburban Sublime exhibition. Salted caramel cookies and Brazilian coffee. Yoga via YouTube. Ruminated on how much of what I do is entangled with the attention economy. Now playing:
First day of about a month of isolation. Had a call with Michael about our house options for the second half of the year. Learnt about vector maths for Godot Engine. Ate a blueberry muffin. Now playing:
Got some encouraging words from Brodie about filmmaking. Pushed me to seriously consider making Quiet on Earth with my own money.
The LNP spilt up. The National Party left, leaving no pathway for a future conservative Australian government.
Not enough sleep (< 7 hrs). So very tired. Dada and surrealism at art theory class. We’re in the final weeks of the semester now. I have no idea how to write a research essay about art. Açai bowl with Biscoff. A much appreciated free coffee.
Watched The Pitt, which was pummelling. I feel physically exhausted. Moderately ashamed of my ability to watch a 15 hour TV show but not Kobayashi’s The Human Condition.
Robert
Robert picked up his glasses. Gold rims. Large enough. There were two cracks in the lens. Like two sides of a triangle. And when he positioned them over his face the cracks became a smudge over everything he saw.
CW: stats
Ran a Jetpack Blaze ad for amusement/dopamine. Set it for the minimum spend: US$5. 15.9K impressions translated to 23 clicks, which translated to two video views. It automatically posts to Tumblr and 8.7K people saw the post, with 51 likes/reblogs, so that’s not nothing 📈
The new Superman trailer looks like it’s (finally) everything I want not just from a Superman movie, but from superhero movies in general. It looks like it will actually interrogate what it is to be a hero, what it means to do good, and whether there is heroism in all of us 🍿
The Crossing: rnkn.xyz/crossing/
The Rain
The rain clawed at the glass. Trent remembered hearing that somewhere — the rain clawed at the glass — or reading it, although he hadn’t read a book in several years so reading it was less likely. It was a good description, he thought. Probably more than a decade.
When I first started a mailing list I just added my whole address book (yolo). I always regretted this. Removed everyone today and gave them the option to resubscribe (via Substack). Few have. I probably should have waited until I had more than two posts. Now playing:
Trains cancelled. Therapist appointment cancelled. Missed the lecture for my art theory class. Had a leisurely coffee instead. An açai bowl for lunch with pistachio butter and Nutella. Bought some bright red Converse shoes. Deployed a pod with Umami for my portfolio. Maybe an alternative to Jetpack.