adamishere.org

The way some parents converse about youth sports. It sounds like life or death. Maybe it is? Work, little one, to appease the watchful eyes, full of wrath and wild expectations.

Nobody cares about my life story, my thoughts, what I'm feeling, my opinion on any matter, what I did today or any day.

In the future, I think I might need to become an occasional Apple Music subscriber. I'll do a month or two, compile a list of stuff I'm really liking, cancel the sub, then go on to purchase those records to own outright.

I think that my job in the world is just to notice things - pick up on vibes - hear the undertone in a person's voice. To try to be curious and take a closer look.

I thought the sound quality of the original AirPods Pro was satisfactory. Even good. But the second gen model is so much better that I feel embarrassed to have held my prior belief. They're my favorite headphones ever.

Could every work of art in whatever format be about 12 minutes long? Or whatever the equivalent of 12 minutes of time is in "weight" or amount or quantity.

What happened to the young man who used to spend piles of quarters playing Virtual Tennis at the Old Capitol Mall arcade.

I eavesdropped on a job interview during our visit to In N Out for free hot chocolate The candidate kept saying how much he liked their burgers and chili fries.

I'm fairly certain they don't serve chili fries ...

Felt a bit sorry for the candidate.

Lawson is feeling a bit under the weather today. He was up last night for several hours - hoping he will snooze a bit this morning. I think he might have a fever.

In other news: the churches here were full of sympathy for Israel after Oct 7 - which was good and right. And we prayed for them to recover - and inadvertently also prayed for the success of a murderous military mission - which is now dehumanizing millions of innocent normal people. And where is the church now - where is the sympathy.

I had never listened to Sun Kil Moon prior to the other day - but I remember all the acclaim in the mid teens - and after listening to Benji, I just don't get it. Sometimes the songs are lovely, but the rambling of the singing - a vibe I would enjoy in theory - but it just felt dumb and pointless.

As I get older I'm increasingly convinced that, truly, nothing good happens after 10 PM. For me at least. Life would be better if I could flip my schedule and always be awake at 5.

I've decided that I'll probably need to have Apple Music AND continue to buy music. To actually own and possess the stuff I care about. Or maybe get a record player again and buy vinyl.

Do you sometimes feel it would be the best use of your remaining time to sit down and just read as many books as possible? I do. Just to do nothing else at all. Ever. And expire your final breath in the chair of reading.

I still feel the past and my experiences buried there as if they were the present. The big long now. Memories are bubble up and seem real in the moment and as if they are happening again and again.

This is a Joyce-an puzzlement: Carol Oates will write a short paragraph that uses two tenses of "penetrate."

Throbbing notes "penetrating." The Jesters who "penetrated" the very air

It's a feat.

There's a couple here, one wearing a Pantera shirt and one wearing a Mudvayne shirt. At least I assume they're a couple.

I like my kids to see me with a book in hand, if at all possible. Instead of scrolling or poking or prodding at a device. So I try to be up before them and be reading on the couch.

The Casey's clerk I met last night was planning to travel to Colorado, with her 4 kids and spouse, through the oncoming snowstorm, and into the already established mountain snowpack, for Christmas with the in-laws.

She seemed upbeat, but I would be cancelling.

I've spent so long pinning all my hopes on evenings of free time. It's difficult to break free from that. I need to minimize my expectations for what I can do in an evening. All the potential for self actualization does not rest in a single evening. And when you just need downtime, that's what you should be doing. Let your soul be your pilot. And your weariness is real But I also need to get a job.

The dilemma of "having a large, complex soul" that somehow in public manifests as a "thin, glassy trickle." From the Joyce Carol Oates feature in the 11/27 New Yorker. Struck me.

Recently began to use one of the British male Siri voices, and that was a good decision. They're better than the Americans.