Scratch Pad: Fog, Wind, Rebus

I do this manually at the end of each week: collating (and sometimes lightly editing) most of the recent little comments I’ve made on social media, which I think of as my public scratch pad. Some end up on Disquiet.com earlier, sometimes in expanded form. These days I mostly hang out on Mastodon (at post.lurk.org/@disquiet), and I’m also trying out a few others. I take weekends and evenings off social media.

▰ Blue sky and fog horns means there’s a thick marine layer in the bay. I marvel at it every time.

▰ I got back into tai chi earlier this year and I look forward to having enough memory of the forms that I can listen to Lou Reed’s Hudson River Wind Meditations while doing it, but for now all I’m listening to (and watching) is tai chi tutorial videos.

▰ I’ve recently taken to, once a day, looking in my email sent folder, ’cause sometimes — in an age of heavily filtered email, due to general email overload (PR, spam, newsletters, ads) — replies end up bypassing my inbox, and I otherwise might not know someone had replied

▰ Somehow guitar practice means guitar and headphone amp and headphones and iPad* for noting down chords and laptop for displaying sheet* music.

And this excludes the step where I swap the amp for an audio interface so I can feed the sound through my computer and, thus, more easily record myself (on occasion).

And yes, I’m considering an acoustic guitar.

And yes, that wouldn’t remove many steps.

And yes, I’d annoy people with my playing.

*Goodnotes, which is quite excellent, in both cases

▰ The most important day for guitar practice is the day after guitar class

▰ DJ Krust poster in the first (2000) episode of the Rebus TV series, as the detective interviews a club owner backstage

▰ Very odd when you get a bunch of alerts of people all signing up for your newsletter from the same source, but there’s no record of that source. I guess it’s paywalled or something.

▰ I’ve been typing since before I could read

▰ Overheard during my lunch walk: tourists disappointed to see a driver behind the wheel of a passing Waymo