The woman I spent much of 2024 with made an appearance in a dream last night. A dream of mine, that is. She could have appeared in thousands of dreams, even performing live at this moment in the sleepy heads of people whose lives she somehow touched. But that is not my space. Those heads are silos into which I cannot peer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This dream started with the company of my old bar buddies. I guess this was in my mind from writing so much about the word “Sunswick” yesterday and briefly reminiscing about the best bar scene I’ll ever be a part of. In the dream were some of the people from that scene, not at a bar but at someone’s house or apartment. It was a holiday festivity of some sort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Talk turned and turned, and I laid down on a soft surface to sleep. Conversation somehow touched on the fact that there was a connection between these people and the woman from 2024. Thus, it was no surprise to me to wake up and find her lying next to me, also sleepy but wanting attention. She had grown a beard and mustache, which is something I could never have brought myself to consider in the real world of our time together. When I woke I thought the idea of her having facial hair was kinda icky, and I cannot identify where things like this come from in my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was decided, without much prompting, that we would leave together for sex at her place. This much of our dynamic was genuinely typical of our real-world time together. “Would you like to lie down?” was her favorite question. What was not typical of anything, besides the facial hair, was her connection to any other part of my social circles or past communities. We had friends in common years ago, but they were perfunctory connections and they’ve all moved on. This lack of social commonality made cutting our connection off a lot easier than it might have been with dozens of observers gawking and asking questions, reassessing our social standing on account of new singularity. Singleness. Did I get my singleness vaccine?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
… <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I just noticed that this workplace has mousetraps placed behind certain objects, like a water dispenser and a refrigerator. There are also roach and insect traps. I’ve never seen any mice here but early in my days here bedbugs were an occasional scare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Kinda had to laugh yesterday, as I delved further into my website maintenance than I ever have while sitting here at this desk. The website stuff is personal projects, semi-professional as well, and I’ve kept it mostly church and state in separating my activities while here at this desk. Suddenly I’m asking myself why I’m not being more productive. This attitude, long simmering, is fueled by the meaninglessness and dead-endedness of this job. So yesterday I managed to solve a few issues with my web world. Twitch is now streaming again, after I found no obvious way to send a kill signal to twitch. It said the stream was connected for 36 hours and counting but it was not really connected. The camera and stream were working perfectly. I’m not sure but I think the reboot might have cleansed the network palette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I also find that while the Shoutcast provider of yore claims to have gone out of business all the streams I hosted with them remain alive. Either it’s paid for through the end of the month or they just forgot about them. Maybe they are hosted on reseller machines? I don’t even know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I find this kind of work harder to do when it has to be squeezed through a phone. I do nothing personal on the office compouters. Well, not much. But creative work feels impossible here. This job eats my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So now when I talk about being productive at work I’m talking about doing stuff on my personal and semi-professional network of accumulation. The Art of Accumulation, as I once called it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tried to water-wash something stuck to the bottom of my left foot today. It feels like another shard of glass from one of the shattered gimlet glasses S gave me years ago. The bottom of my feet is a region of my body that feels like another planet. I look at them and ask “Is this me?” I had such a moment once when I bought a pair of what were called “workout shoes” and they nearly tore my ankles to shreds. These were MBT shoes (I was thinking EBT, hah). I took one of them off to assess the blood and when I turned over my foot I thought I was looking at someone else’s body, or some other animal altogether. The thoughtstream sent me to Chicago, where a Romanian woman I dated commented on how white people never show their feet and don’t want to look at them themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Today I am walking with a bit of a gimp as this shard of something, probably gimlet glass, stays wedged. Will warm or hot water wash them out? I am not certain but I think that technique has worked for me before.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The woman I spent much of 2024 with made an appearance in a dream last night. A dream of mine, that is. She could have appeared in thousands of dreams, even performing live at this moment in the sleepy heads of people whose lives she somehow touched. But that is not my space. Those heads […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-47017","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-text","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paumAn-cel","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47017","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=47017"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47017\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":47034,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47017\/revisions\/47034"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=47017"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=47017"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wsbj.com\/sorabji\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=47017"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}