I just synced my RSS feed to Goodreads, and learned that Goodreads doesn’t support WordPress’s aside format, which I’ve been using for the better part of a year in order to microblog primarily on my own site rather than on other social media (which I should also be doing, but…).

When I started the microblog, I read that in the past, users of the aside format would put an infinity symbol at the bottom of the post containing the permalink. I might have to start doing something like that as my first line. If Goodreads is turning the first line into a default title, it’s possible that other RSS readers are doing something similar.

“Play in space beneath sight.”

I tend to make these poems spontaneously, and find meaning after the fact. To me, this is about imagination, which is absolutely a space beneath sight.

The Grammarly browser extension now has a feature that detects tone, or at least attempts to, in much the same, fumbling way that the Grammarly software attempts to do anything.

It labeled a flat-out rant I’d written as having an “appreciative” tone.

It also labeled a draft of my blog post on 2019 as “accusatory.” Take that, 2019!

Peanut Butter Cup Fat Bombs

I created my own recipe for peanut butter cup fat bombs since I’m not patient enough to look through 5,000,000 blogs and find a good recipe that someone else wrote. Continue reading

Developing film
Soapmaking
Printmaking

This list is the intersection of:

Art forms that sound awesome and
Art forms that have caustic chemicals and
Art forms that I will not try due to anxiety.

I’ll pull out my eyebrows for 2019

When I try to answer the question of whether or not 2019 was a good year, I keep returning to my flagship anxiety problem. Continue reading

Until I started listening to Blur again, I’d forgotten the feeling of the impending end of an entire century.

I’ve been struck by how many Blur songs use the word century, or reference its ending. In “For Tomorrow,” “he’s a 20th century boy.” In “Country House,” the city-dweller is “caught up in the century’s anxieties.” And of course, in “End of a Century,” “we kiss with dry lips when we say good night… end of a century, it’s nothing special.”

Time ends, flips inside out. We fall off a cliff and into a different world than the one we’ve known, even though it’s exactly the same, changing by events rather than by numbers. I lived almost the first half of my life in a different millenium.

Everyone:

Oh my God, you walked 10 minutes to the store? That’s 20 minutes round trip! Do you also pull your toenails off for fun, you maniac?

Also everyone:

Oh my God, weight loss. I must go to the gym and burn all the calories.

My mom got me a new Fitbit for Christmas, and there is now a thing called a Sleep Score. I got a grade of 72 for a little under 6 hours of sleep last night.

I would like to be graded on a more punishing scale than this. Less bell curve, more bladed pendulum swinging from the ceiling.

Also, I read an article awhile ago that claimed 6 hours of sleep is just as bad as none. I forget what the logic was and what research it drew upon–it might have been mostly about cognitive function. But 6 hours of sleep is most certainly not as bad as none because the extent to which I feel like shit still matters.

Asking better questions about parenting and child leashes

Child's backpack with rosy-cheeked smile.

There haven’t been a lot of studies done on child leashes. In lieu of science, the internet served up a chunky stew of thinking errors, logical fallacies, and ad hominem attacks. It’s time to ask better questions. Continue reading