Hello, good morning, and welcome to another Thursday. It’s time for my weekly blog post. I’m still comparatively “out of it”, so I had to double-check that, yes, today really is Thursday. I woke up yesterday feeling that it was Friday, though that might have been wishful thinking; I thought not only that it was Friday, but that I didn’t need to work on Saturday. Both of these turn out to be wrong. (Sigh. Life is so tiring.)
Despite still obviously being reduced from my peak abilities by the aftereffects of Covid, I’ve had a relatively productive week. First, I recorded and posted an “audio blog” which I guess counts as a sort of mini podcast, on Iterations of Zero. It was triggered—weirdly enough—when I woke up the other day with the old Genesis song Land of Confusion going through my head, particularly the line about how “my generation will get it right, we’re not just making promises that we know we’ll never keep”. I find such utterances terribly irritating, even in what could be considered poetry, and I replied in my head that, well, you might not be making promises that you know you’ll never keep, but you are making promises that you’ll never keep. And indeed, they have not kept them.
Promising, after all, is easy. Actually doing something takes work, usually a lot of it.
And of course, the remarks in the song about superman, men of steel, men of power, always set me off; there are no supermen, there are no “men of steel”, there are no “men of power”, and there never have been. There are just other flesh and blood humans, just other bees in the hive or ants in the hill.
Anyway, I went off on those ideas for about seventeen minutes, since I was still fuming when I arrived at the office, and I then edited it (a bit) and posted it.
I really like that song, but the process of having to correct for recording issues in the edit and mixing process finally drove me to buy a somewhat better microphone (closing the proverbial barn door after the equine had exited). Just in playing with that microphone, I realized how much easier it makes things to have a good USB condenser mic. I was able to record a draft of a cover of the Beatles song Julia in just one morning, which I embed here in present form.
Of course, I mixed it and did some reverb after the recording and whatnot, and it is a simpler song, but still, that’s a total of maybe an hour’s work or so (not counting learning and practicing the guitar part, of course). And the microphone I used only cost about thirty-five dollars, so it’s definitely not a big expense. I probably spend more than that every week on bubbly water.
Of course, I’ve continued to work on The Vagabond, but there’s not much new to say other than that I’m one week closer to being finished. I still enjoy the story, and I look forward to seeing it published and then going on to finish Outlaw’s Mind and then putting together Dr. Elessar’s Cabinet of Curiosities and all that stuff. After all that, I’m not sure what exactly I’m going to write next. I’m going to write something, though, since it turns out the novel coronavirus hasn’t killed me*, and as long as I’m alive, I mean to keep writing. I’ll also probably (to a lesser extent) keep doing music—especially now that I have my new microphone(s)—and I’ll probably keep doing little mini-podcasts that I’ll upload, though I don’t know if anyone likes them or wants to listen to them. I’d actually appreciate feedback on that question, but I don’t think I’ve ever received any despite asking for it, so I’m not going to hold my breath.
With that, I guess I’m done with my weekly summary of events and thoughts, though I’m sure I could have written more**. I hope you’re all as well as you can possibly be, and that you stay well and, if you can, even get weller.
*I have mixed and varying feelings about this. In all honesty, life often does not seem worth the effort to me, which is probably part of why I love Hamlet so much. And yet, even though people throughout the ages have noted that life is often not a net gain, particularly after a certain point, our culture allows, and even encourages, other people to hold us accountable for staying alive so that they don’t have to feel the pain of our death…even if they are not putting any effort into helping make our life worth living. I’m not saying that other people should be responsible for making my (or anyone else’s) life pleasant or positive or whatever, but if they aren’t, they sure as fuck shouldn’t then arrogate to themselves the right to try to manipulate and coerce someone into enduring the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune just because their deaths would cause that other person pain. It’s logically inconsistent if nothing else. It’s also selfishness and cruelty masquerading as humanitarianism.
Anyway, just to conclude this footnote with a request: if you are worried about someone who’s depressed or has some other disorder and you don’t want them to die, don’t wheedle or berate or manipulate or cajole them not to die just because it would make you upset if they did. What right do you have to insist upon their continued suffering just so you don’t have to deal with their death? If you really want them to stay alive, then make it your business to help them have good reasons to want to stay alive. Otherwise, shut the fuck up!
**I can almost always write more. In fact, an early pseudonym suggestion for me by my father was “Franklin L. Ritemoore”. It took me about five minutes to get the joke, but I was only in junior high at the time, so I was less advanced at wordplay than I am now.