Thank you, Noah.

I watch us
in our last, most honest minutes
putting bread on credit, double-
bagging bleach and ketchup, trying
to keep what we love alive.


I still struggle with achieving the right balance of exposure to my local nuclear fusion reaction. Sometimes it is due to my own bad choices, but often I can blame systemic causes. Regardless, I managed a good starting dose this morning and it made a difference.


This day still fucks with my head.


EVP

I am not in the market to buy a new car, yet. But were I, my wife and I would be looking to EVs. When I entertain the hypothetical, I pause at my sense of the industry treating vehicles (all of them, seemingly, not just EVs) as an IoT appliance, tethered to the manufacturer one way or another, even if you don’t subscribe to extra services. I believe the following should be rights:

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It’s also Fuck Bell Textron Day, at least for me.


50F

This is the first 50f morning for me this year that sustained long enough for me to be awake, not have immediate intervening responsibilities, such that I can meet it on the stoop with coffee in hand. If I controlled the global thermostat every morning should be 50f, but… never mind seasons—2 decades of notable climate shifts means there will be many fewer of these in my life at this latitude than I’d have assumed.

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What good comes out of increasing the void of help for the innocent?

I’m not really making an effort at being a news blogger. I have little to add of any unique value. I do not want to sound self-important. If there’s anything to when I do comment on the larger world I do not control or have particular expertise in, it is to assert as much agency as I think we all might have due to any way we might relate to the world, to care about things and to ask for justice.

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I slowly became good at a sort of GTD style of managing my email inbox. Not quite Inbox Zero, but a healthy total count can be managed on a hand or two. Not as good with browser tabs. Painfully declaring tab bankruptcy today. All those novel links, essays, news articles… ‘til we meet again.


Assateague National Seashore

3 people looking for ghost crabs on a darkened beach, lit by a rising super moon, bringing in the high tide.

The Heritage Foundation’s Kevin Roberts can suck it. The vertical playground at Swampoodle is one of The Childe’s favorite places to play.

It is near several places we make regular errand runs to and, in addition to climbing fun, it provides him a vantage point to observe the train traffic coming in and out of Union Station (The Childe is a trainspotter, although he does not yet know this term).

Like many park areas with something interesting for different groups, it is a small oasis in the city. We need more such things for all of us. (We also need the city to keep the drinking fountains in clean, working order in all the parks. I did just put in a 3-1-1 request with regards to Swampoodle’s drinking fountain.)