a frequent evening thing to think

Aside from a few other things like some lightning and the Sears Tower with a cloud that seemed to have gotten tangled in its antennae, this is pretty much the most beautiful thing I’ve seen today. It makes me miss shooting film and wish that I had the financial capability to do so. (Which I would, if it was What I Did, but I also buy records and coffee and website hosting and old Schwinn road bikes and silly things like that. And so I come once again to have $100 to my name and bills to pay. Ah well. It’s an awfully good bike.) I often wonder, though, what I could do if it was What I Did, if I really disciplined myself into a knowledge that my day job was really just providing the funding for me to hack old cameras, or write essays, or bike to a different state every Sunday, or sew an army of pink plush octopodes. The problem is I’d rather do a little bit of all of it and a reasonable amount of nothing. Well, it’s not really a problem, per se, just a way that things have gone.Speaking of things and their ways of going, my own personal laptop is slowly going the way of the dodo and the bison and art deco, to borrow a phrase which somehow stuck in my head from the latest collection of short stories by David Foster Wallace, which I’ve just started reading. (1.5 stories in, the verdict: surprisingly non-sucky! I’d heard some less than positive things and had low expectations.) Anyway, I keep pushing the hard drive to capacity, which is pesky, and the AC adapter now makes a high-pitched shriek, which is pesky to the point of unbearable in a quiet room. I am sort of informally saving up for a MacBook but probably won’t get one for at least a month or two. I am currently typing on nickd’s roommate’s MacBook (thanks, Austin). nickd has stopped playing the record which is just a bunch of locked grooves that Akufen and some other dudes who are not Akufen but also like making noises that last exactly the length of one groove on a record did, and he has also stopped playing the other records that are very pleasant kinds of techno. I am going to cut this post short and poke nickd with pointy objects, such as the corner of a David Foster Wallace book, until he puts on more of the pleasant techno.

I forget if I had a point. I think just hello, and what could we all do if we had all the time in the world to do it and love doing it and not have to worry about sleeping or eating or looking reasonably like people who did not bike through at least fifty-eight separate mud puddles on the way to work in the morning.

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