Bits

I love measuring time while doing things by playing new and favorite records. It's an anti-timer that's less brutal. This morning I'm going through Interpol's latest, This Mirror Weighs a Ton. So far I'm loving it. Ever the Actor and So Rides the Reindeer are already leaving an impression on me.

Geese — "Au Pays du Cocaine" live at Reading Festival.

Red House Painters' Old Ramon on while I edit photos from the summer jaunt to Paris and Zurich.

Raining outside this morning. I'm doing chores, listening to new Westside Cowboy and Weezer, while my girls work on brain puzzles.

While I'm tempted to buy a vintage watch, I can't help but feel like I'm wearing someone else's history on my wrist instead of forging my own. I think I'm better off buying something new, taking it everywhere on my journey, and giving it its own history.

Reasoning and daydreaming have opposite objective functions. Reasoning contracts the space and prunes early. Daydreaming expands the space and prunes late.

I have great childhood memories of playing Columns with my mom. I was thinking about the game earlier today and had completely forgotten the art. They sure don't make them like they used to.

I've made dozens of applications, games, prototypes, and tools with AI this year. Now I'm archiving most of them, simply because I'm not using them. Summer cleaning, maybe. Or clearing room for what I think will be another great vibe-coding fall and winter as the new models land.

I've always wanted to live in a glass house. Nothing in it, or close to nothing. A bed, a chair, a small divider of frozen atoms between me and the trees. In the morning the light would come through green, filtered twice, once by the firs and once by the glass, and lie across the floor in long unhurried stripes. Rain on all sides at once. Snow piling on the sill at eye level while the room stays warm as blood. The trees come up out of the same dirt I'll eventually go down into, and through the glass I could watch them rise, slowly, for years, the way you watch anything you love. Best to have little. None of it gets buried with you, and whatever does stops being yours at the door. A glass house is just a grave you can see out of. I mean that as a compliment.

Uploaded my old iTunes library to the cloud. Twenty-six years of songs, collected across different eras of my life. Going back through them, the songs keep pulling up memories I forgot I had.

I was thinking about ICQ on my Sunday morning drive. My wife and I lived in that app throughout college and our careers. One window with one person in it with a status line you wrote yourself, so the other person knew whether you were awake. There's a middle ground between messaging and social. I know it's there, from those years and from my time at Myspace. It's funny that nobody has cracked it yet.

The Rolling Stones building "Sympathy for the Devil" in 1968. Amazing to watch a song come to life. I've probably watched this a dozen times over the years — the band sitting together, riffing, finding their parts. Same feeling as the Fred again.. and LATIN MAFIA session in Mexico City.

In the early aughts my best friend got married in New Zealand. The day after the wedding a few of us rented a convertible and drove north with the top down, iPods and aux cables passed around the car. I'll always remember the light, the wind, and the gratitude I felt that day.

Seattle to the Bay. Somewhere over the Northern California shoreline the plane starts its turn and my mind goes with it. Golden hour. Water hitting sand, then rock, then sand again. Fog holding the light. The mountains stay where they are. Sometimes I think they want to reach the beach, even for a minute. I know I do.

I'm probably going to spend a fortune in tokens to organize my filesystem. It'll probably be worth it.

When I came to US I had $700 and I spent most of it on pay phones to call a girl that I loved in Iran! We are married for 27 years now.

— Pejman Nozad (@pejmannozad) February 19, 2021