Blue Angels, Grammarbots, Mastodon

From the past week

I do this manually each Saturday, usually in the morning over coffee: collating most of the tweets I made the past week at, which I think of as my public notebook. Some tweets pop up sooner in expanded form or otherwise on I’ve found it personally informative to revisit the previous week of thinking out loud. This isn’t a full accounting. Often there are, for example, conversations on Twitter that don’t really make as much sense out of the context of Twitter itself. And sometimes I tweak them a bit, given the additional space. And sometimes I re-order them just a bit.

▰ I no longer set timers for work projects. I just work until a “spam likely” call appears on my phone, decline it, switch to another project, and await the next spam call. When I feel I’ve earned a break, I read the entertaining automated transcriptions of the spam calls.

▰ Tired: You study sound, so you must love fireworks [that cause stress-inducing disturbances and annoy domestic animals].

Wired: You study sound, so you must have a smart assistant in your home [that listens to everything everyone says and does].

▰ Disembodied voice: “If you would like to hold without music, please press 1.”

Me: 1

▰ I can pretty much tell how much I’ll like a random contemporary British TV crime drama from its theme music

▰ Ooh, Matthew Herbert did the music for The Wonder, the new Florence Pugh film

▰ Got to Queen Bee in the New York Times Spelling Bee on both Saturday and Sunday this weekend, and woke up Monday wondering if that had just been a dream (apparently it hadn’t).

▰ Can’t believe I missed the word “cooing” in yesterday’s New York Times Spelling Bee

▰ There’s a graphic novel called Forest Hills Bootleg Society. When I first saw the title, I thought it was a real thing, and that I could return to the time in 1983 I saw Talking Heads in Forest Hills, Queens.

▰ “My AI could do that”

▰ I haven’t loved a Don DeLillo book in quite some time, but I’d be stoked for him to win the Nobel, because then we’d get a speech. I can only imagine what such a speech would contain.

▰ I know that by some measures I write a lot, but I think somehow managing to crash TextEdit was an unforeseen badge of honor.

▰ If you write and don’t think of yourself as “a writer,” I beg of you: pay a little attention to text underlined by automated grammarbots in red and please do feel comfortable ignoring much of what gets underlined in blue. In fact, as I was writing this, the grammarbot wanted me to remove the “of” in “beg of you.” Apparently the grammarbot doesn’t care for Elvis Presley.

▰ It’s almost like these grammarbots are trying to undo what little grammar people may have learned.

▰ I was gonna tweet something about the lovely foghorns but then the Blue Angels made my nervous system do things that are by no means healthy.

▰ Before the Blue Angels assaulted our peaceful neighborhood, I was gonna mention that while I’m not fluent in foghorn, I did comprehend what they were saying amid today’s marine layer: “reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” (Not sure if they noted the quote is apocryphal.)

▰ Tired: Buying fancy new speakers.

Wired: Having a cold for a couple days and then your earache subsides.

▰ Tonight’s reading: a return to that period during the 1990s when I subsisted primarily on burritos and mini-comics.

▰ One of my favorite walls in the neighborhood

▰ I get a lot of linktree-style choose-your-platform things like this via email from music PR, and I’m fascinated by how often YouTube and YouTube Music aren’t listed, even if the music in question is on those platforms. (I trimmed the artist’s name off the top of this image.)

▰ There is an FAQ about the Disquiet Junto. If there are other questions, lemme know.

▰ Are you on Mastodon? I’m on Mastodon. I dig the underlying concept, though I can’t say I’ve connected with it much in practice. I’m at — or something like that. Sharing links to Mastodon is a little peculiar, even self-defeating, but there you go.

▰ They’re called the Blue Angels because they appear out of the blue and force you to contemplate the afterlife

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