This is where my old friend Irene usually tells me “tag your porn”
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I don’t have a notebook problem YOU have a notebook problem
10am: wake up painfully after massively weird dreams in which I recalled things I learned in previous dreams that I cannot do in real life, like drive a car (badly) 10.10am commence loading espresso 11.10am protein shake with cinnamon and cacao 11.20am oh my god Inbox 35
Today is time for action. Time to get my shit together. Like other writers, I’m keeping my social media on a while longer, but will maintain a little distance from it, because, yes, it’s time to get my shit together and start thinking.
Well, today’s been another dead loss. Hails of messages and emails (thanks to all who checked in with me because, I presume, I am so old that a cough on a breeze coming from ten miles away could drop me in my tracks), clearing up from cancelled travel, sending money to precarious nearest and dearest, and observing at my local food hall that apparently in the time of plague the third thing to hoard behind toilet paper and hand sanitiser is chicken pieces.
I’ve generally avoided talking about this, because my brain is in a blender as it is. But now it feels like it might be worth doing at least some kind of partial personal log of these times. Someone said to me today, “I’m freaked out that you’re freaked out. You’re usually so unflappable.” And, I admit, it got to me yesterday, I put all the news feeds back on, watched borders close, started hearing about confirmed cases within two or three degrees from me.
I mean, I’m Generation X. We all assumed this was coming, and we’ve all been ready for decades to cut you for clean water. And, since we were the generation left to roam the streets, let ourselves in and sit around alone for hours, we are entirely prepared for all this, because we learned the tools and emotions were dunned out of us early.
It’s still a weird moment.
Anyway, I’m fine, and will likely continue to be so. Tomorrow, I need to fully shake it off and go into deep work mode.
Well, the rest of my planned travel just got cancelled, production is seizing up everywhere, and our Wednesday night restaurant just closed for the week. I’m trying not to put more talk about this thing into the feeds, because I am extremely privileged and disappointments, sadnesses and annoyances are really not the worst other people are feeling. But, damn, it’s getting weird, right? Of course, as a professional writer, self-isolation is pretty much my standard day. But I could really do without the extra stress and sleep deprivation. Again: not the worst.
Inbox 27, because everything’s going nuts. I’m about to turn off most of my feeds, put a film on the big screen, put some new music on, and go into some deep work. After I walk into town to see if it’s gone fully 28 DAYS LATER. Let’s hope people aren’t hoarding wine.
Just arrived. Always an excellent, illuminating read. Attend the-modernist.org for yours. This one’s mine and you can’t have it.
In the enduring search for the peaceful rural ideal it can be easy to forget that the ‘rural’ acts as a conduit for the modern. Through their role in transport, militarisation or energy production, these pastoral, bucolic or rugged areas have evolved their own architectures and infrastructures. A dam halfway up a mountain, for example, is a surprise – a startling juxtaposition – but as with so many edifices it is there for one reason: to help us live.
Huh. I forgot I used to do Today’s Ambient. I should bring that back.
Wondering if I shouldn’t go full channel, the way I did in the old days. Can’t quite achieve some of it as automatically as I’d like, but I should think about it. The current situation may lead some people back to presenting online in more permanent ways, outside the new high churn of social media. But I’ve been wrong before.
Looks like some people may have a lot more time to type and think. I wonder how this will go.
Gorgeous day out here. Still cold, but bright, with spring scents in the air. And allergens.
Distinct lack of airplane trails, this morning, though. Reminding me of the summer of the Icelandic volcano.
Decided to continue using the Do Button to post a proof of life to Twitter in the mornings. I was going to stop when retiring from social media post-show, but people seem to like them, and it guess it doesn’t hurt to see something familiar on your feed in the morning right now.
Inbox 25, which is not good, and probably a sign of the times. Filed a BATMAN’S GRAVE script last night, so I’m on to development writing this week. Fun.