“I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world finding it so much like myself.” — Albert Camus
lol. Is the length of time I’m giving myself to write this. I figure it’ll be questionably edited with grammatical errors. But I don’t give a fuck.
I was supposed to start on the hour. I did not start on the hour. I ate a pear and made some chicken strips using my microwave’s smart cook feature. Six minutes til deliciously tender tenders.
I’ve spent almost all day rearranging my house. Playing 3D Tetris. And this sucks.
Years and years and years ago I had a studio setup. As in an audio studio. As in tens of thousands of dollars of technology. Hardware. Software licenses. Samples. Information.
I would spent hours. Days. In front of the equipment to engineer music.
Notice the word engineer.
Today, in order to make room to make less room I had to take down my studio desk. And equipment. And holy fuck I didn’t remember just how many cables I have.
So many cables. A sea of cables. Quarter inch. Eighth inch. XLR, MIDI, IEC, USB, Firewire 400, Firewire 800, and all sorts of other types of all sorts of lengths.
I have known this was something I needed to do, and I have been dreading it for years.
This sucks.
Not only physically, but emotionally. Everything I go through elicits past memories. Positive and negative.
I have managed to take a lot of pictures though. So that’s neat. I’ve figured that if I take pictures of whatever stuff that I’m getting rid of or selling or whatever then that’ll be an adequate reminder that existed. Rather than having existing just taking up space. With no use. Hidden.
Maybe some day I’ll write a past post from the future and put pictures on a post on this date. Maybe. That whole ADHD thing though. Intent versus action with a side of time blindness. Who knows.
So many fucking cables. So many hard drives. So many random things. So much time to sort through it. So much fucking fuckity fuck.
So many things distracting me. In the 22 minutes I have left to write this post. Self imposed. Sort of. Kind of. I did commit to being available at the end of the hour in which I was supposed to be writing.
Last week I bought something. It was a replacement for another something that I lost… two weeks after I bought it.
Today I lost that replacement something. Four days after I purchased it.
Which is not cool at all. The object was like $40. Which for me is… still $40. Regardless of the amount, it hurt. Losing it hurt. And I felt terrible. I felt like a stupid dumbass.
Which then had my mind go down a dark path in which it dredged up very poignant events in my life in which I lost somethings that meant way more to me than $40. Not just objects. Tons of data — e-mail and projects I’ve worked on. Music I’ve produced. Art I’ve collected. Relationships.
All because of fucking time blindness. Losing that stupid thing threw off my entire day in a bed way.
Time blindness. Like thinking about writing blog posts. Writing blog posts longer than this one and not finishing them thinking I will in the next hour. Day. Week. And then it becomes lost in a list of lists to check off the status of the checkmarks on the other lists.
But here I am. Writing a post in less than an hour. On the second to last day of the month. Feeling alright about getting the three posts done per month that I committed to myself to do in November of last year.
Versus my TikTok thing. Which I paused. And the AI art thing. Which I paused. And the marketing thing. Which I paused.
I’ve managed to post 1,302 entries in my journal over the past 441 days. Which is a lie. Some of those days I forgot to write. Which is something I need to remember to do so that I have a log of whatever thoughts or ideas or experiences I have that may be pertinent to whatever it is I’m doing or wanna do.
It looks like 441 days in a row. It’s not 441 days in a row. It’s me time traveling to past dates and posting something about the day.
What about?
It depends on the pictures.
There’s a reason I take a shitload of pictures of random shit. And save memes. Because I will eventually browse through the thousands of terabytes of data produced by me through my life. I want to feed a bunch of shit into a machine learning model so I can talk to myself. That’d be neat.
That was all a tangent from losing things though.
Such as my fucking train of thought.
I am still feeling just fucking fried. Deflated. Sad. That I lost yet another thing.
It’ll be funny another day.
But not today.
And my fucking mouse cursor keeps disappearing for some fucking reason.
At least I got a bunch of shit done in meat space. And finished this entry. Which is already almost a thousand words. Of the mundane. And of tragedy.