1. More Scott! (7, 8, 9, 10, cf. this.)

    You: So…how’s that [time-sensitive actual work] coming?

    ME: The inexorable and relatively steady march of time is such that I know almost exactly when the deadline will come to pass.

    No, it is great to find yet another activity—and index-card based, so *much* cleaner than my usual shenanigans—that makes almost any time feel like Suntory* time.

    (*while I have not consumed Suntory’s more popular grain fermentation based offerings, I did drink one of their manner of espressodas [Japan’s answer to BibiCaffè!] a few years back and it was…kind of relaxing.)

     
  2. Fact: Scott Simpson (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) tells some of the best tiny stories.

    Fun fact: I keep a stable of monks, cloistered in my home, to illuminate manuscripts at my whim. They are…inconsistent letterers.  But: quiet.

    More honest/less fun fact: I worry it is always SUPER obvious when I am working against a certain type of deadline dread.  I shouldn’t be so anxious about things, I know: The Robert Benchley GTD system has historically worked out for everything but the 3 manuscripts that have been in my bag since 2008.

     
  3. image: Download

    The sight of an instrument without the concomitant discord of active and gurgling pumps will never not induce an unease.  Magnet quenches.  Power failures.  Miscellaneous calamity.  Or maybe just leaving a lab-space.  It is the lack of sound that says, “Here is a dead thing”.  Yes, I turned it off, and yes, I will turn it back on when the move is over, but in the meantime the eerie silence evokes something out of a morgue.  One’d think maybe ‘graveyard’ or ‘side of the road’, but I imagine in those places there is at least the activity of naturally assisted decomposition, not the weird semi-stasis of cold storage.
I have never been to a funeral.
Not because there have never been times when I maybe should have gone.  I sometimes wonder how uncalibrated I am, not knowing with any certainty what my baseline/limits are for feelings.  In lesser days, I could punctuate (and maybe alleviate) this sentiment with a swig of antacid.

    The sight of an instrument without the concomitant discord of active and gurgling pumps will never not induce an unease.  Magnet quenches.  Power failures.  Miscellaneous calamity.  Or maybe just leaving a lab-space.  It is the lack of sound that says, “Here is a dead thing”.  Yes, I turned it off, and yes, I will turn it back on when the move is over, but in the meantime the eerie silence evokes something out of a morgue.  One’d think maybe ‘graveyard’ or ‘side of the road’, but I imagine in those places there is at least the activity of naturally assisted decomposition, not the weird semi-stasis of cold storage.

    I have never been to a funeral.

    Not because there have never been times when I maybe should have gone.  I sometimes wonder how uncalibrated I am, not knowing with any certainty what my baseline/limits are for feelings.  In lesser days, I could punctuate (and maybe alleviate) this sentiment with a swig of antacid.

     
  4. Kinda a weird song about the conception and youth of a nation, but life’s a funny thing and today is the day for such.

    (The only tone that could potentially displace the Eudora rooster from my roster of alerts is maybe a cut of "I heard the news today, oh boy!" from this, though my experiment last week using the epic opening of “Taking Care of Business” as the pre-work alarm-clock sound (as opposed to the 4AM drinking reminder) actually led to a 4 days of grim snooze-ing as opposed to waking up ready to conquer the world. If I had an auto-check for some manner of RSS reader, I would definitely be generating an m4r.)

     
  5. Though technically discontinued, the local KMart presents a blueber-resurrection on the tall guy shelves.

    (This aisle also seems to encourage autophagy, so I don’t know how much I trust them.)

    I probably should know better than to hunt for groceries before a 9PM breakfast, but I did end up impulse buying a cereal so bulked with fiber that it might as well have been named “A.M.azing? No: B.M.azing”. So much fiber!

     
  6. image: Download

    ♫  People:
♫  “People” without people,
♫  is the cluckiest “People”
♫  in the world. 

(this particular one: it’s a start.)

    ♫ People:
    ♫ “People” without people,
    ♫ is the cluckiest “People”
    ♫ in the world.

    (this particular one: it’s a start.)

     
  7. 02:33 30th Jun 2014

    Notes: 12

    Tags: rotl

    $2.89 to fix your ski sweater and liberate a sauna without the potential awkwardness of dropping trou? 

How can you go wrong?

    $2.89 to fix your ski sweater and liberate a sauna without the potential awkwardness of dropping trou?

    How can you go wrong?

     
  8. "So, have a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Kwazy Kwanza, a Tip-Top Tet, and a solemn, dignified Ramadan."

    "So, have a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Kwazy Kwanza, a Tip-Top Tet, and a solemn, dignified Ramadan."

     
  9. Everyone knows milk is good for you.  But it’s not cool to drink milk.
A thankfully, although maybe excessively, high percentage of my time is spent scratching my own informational itches.
Whether physical eczema relates to intellectual eczema is a question for a different type of doctor than the ones with whom I deal.

    Everyone knows milk is good for you.  But it’s not cool to drink milk.

    A thankfully, although maybe excessively, high percentage of my time is spent scratching my own informational itches.

    Whether physical eczema relates to intellectual eczema is a question for a different type of doctor than the ones with whom I deal.

     
  10. 15:28 26th Jun 2014

    Notes: 1

    Reblogged from capnmariam

    capnmariam:

    Years later, I still think about this piece every once in a while. 

    Ouroboros!  I ate something disgusting and kind of want more of it, and then remembered this article and wanted to read it, and in Googling the memorable phrase deemed most likely to pull it up, my post of the article in the past was what came up. It may be all that remains, due to the change of how Flak is organized.

    No snake, no tail: only funyun references.

    EDIT: (20140626) Sadder still: despite EdDriscoll maintaining a website with links to the location it was published initially, it seems the only extant copy of the full text is a formatting-lost plagiarized scrape of it in a comments section of an I don’t even know what.  Grim are the fortunes of content produced without ownership.

     
  11. image: Download

    I take note of terrible spelling, guys.

    I take note of terrible spelling, guys.

     
  12. Italian Garbage Cranes may be the weirdest but most delightful everyday sort of job related vehicles I have ever seen in action.

    They are probably pretty amusing—albeit stinky—birds, too. This I cannot vouch for, though.

     
  13. Plays: 49

    (2^7 seconds) Have you formed your morning bolus?

    Reremembering given wishes, vis à vis BM accounting.

     
  14. image: Download

    "Wave your hand 
over the top of
the seat housing”

(because a symbol is going to be as invisible as text if one cannot see.)

I find Braille in public bathrooms slightly discomforting, but am always glad when it does say something different, from the sight-friendly text of a sign, that is also particularly useful.

    "Wave your hand
    over the top of
    the seat housing”

    (because a symbol is going to be as invisible as text if one cannot see.)

    I find Braille in public bathrooms slightly discomforting, but am always glad when it does say something different, from the sight-friendly text of a sign, that is also particularly useful.

     
  15. Non-Canonical McNuggets?!? on Flickr.This was like a black swan in my standard censusing workflow. And I saw black swans about a week ago in real life, though I can only presume this McNugget is not necessarily Chicken. 
But!
Either the quality control on deep fried garbage out of Chicago O’Hare’s Concourse C Franchise is not quite there, **or** there is something awesome going on these days in international mcnuggetry science.

    Non-Canonical McNuggets?!? on Flickr.

    This was like a black swan in my standard censusing workflow. And I saw black swans about a week ago in real life, though I can only presume this McNugget is not necessarily Chicken.

    But!

    Either the quality control on deep fried garbage out of Chicago O’Hare’s Concourse C Franchise is not quite there, **or** there is something awesome going on these days in international mcnuggetry science.