Here we are again, on a couch and not a bed, looking at a device instead of shutting these old eyes. Lately I've felt the day isn't even complete unless I've experienced some moment of bliss, and gosh it sure takes a long time to achieve it through effort or other means. That effort feels like it's cutting into my sleep, and health professionals might call it "unhealthy" to deprive oneself of a basic need for any reason.
It's been years since the last "Insomnia Log" and I'm not really sure why I had a few years without the "write at night" experience. Maybe I was operating in prime from good sleep habits. Oh well, I was unconscious while it lasted.
Cueing back to the past, I’m listening to Music from the Adventures of Pete & Pete again, this time on compact disc (CD). A few years ago I found a functioning Sony Discman D-25 from the late '80s, and it sounds great. I grew up with a Discman from the late '90s, and it sounded like shit. Or were my headphones the problem? Grado SR-225e/x headphones provide good sound at a good price. Somehow this became sponsored content, rats.
"Summerbaby" is now playing. "I was around/ Nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows" on repeat. You know the loop. You'd know it if you heard it. You should just listen to it. It's a jam. It's one of those songs in my list "Songs OK to Hear While Dying". Others on that list are "Just the Way You Are" by Billy Joel, "Olson" by Boards of Canada, and "As You Wish" from the video game Mother 3. There are others but I’m not aware of them right now.
I zoom out to large-scale grievances when I am afraid to be vulnerable about what's really bothering me. I have a feeling a lot of people do this. Why is being "hard" so well-revered, especially among men? I was thinking about this while watching footage of baby pandas on YouTube. They tumble just by trying to walk. It helps that they are soft and round, it's easier to tumble that way. Hard things shatter when they fall. Soft, round things roll. I know which I'd rather do.
Large-scale, I've been reading a lot lately about how JavaScript—especially too much of it—is pretty bad for people trying to visit websites. I fondly remember my old cartoon website "Behold the Cheese" and all its HTML files. Some web developers call this setup an "MPA" or "Multi-Page Application". It's also (more simply) called a "website". Less web "apps", more websites. React was invented by Meta, who used to be called Facebook, as an open-sourcing of an extremely powerful JavaScript library that could remove the need for typing up HTML and CSS, allegedly. It's like molecular gastronomy, and not in a complimentary way. The web was designed around hypermedia, and it didn't need reinventing by "engineers" who needed something to do to look important or pad their resumes. Someday I'll make a new website, not even needing this Blogger setup. That day is not today.
The CD Music from the Adventures of Pete & Pete ends with a hidden track featuring a bunch of soundbites from space launches/landings and international news. It's kind of scary if you're not expecting it, so consider this your warning. You'll remember from the start of the CD, "Jupiter or Thor is perfect/ We need Atlas for our long-distance stuff/ The Titan will be even better/ They shouldn't have cancelled Navajo/ Wait till you see our submarines with Polaris", and then a countdown before the actual music. The band's name is Polaris, so this introduces them and space themes, pretty clever. I don't remember that much space stuff in Pete & Pete, though.
Speaking of space, there is a cosmically funny outcome to a space-based funeral service we had set up for my late father. During the seated portion of the service, a bunch of shills and suckers tearfully thanked the company and various space cowboys for the chance to have their departed loved ones move on to the stars. The rocket launch portion was delayed several days due to weather, and my mother and I had to leave for home before then. Upset about mismanaged expectations for an expensive service, we confronted one of the (of course) white men in charge who replied in a Foghorn Leghorn voice, "That's rocketry for you!" When the rocket finally launched, a portion of my dad's ashes were ejected into space, whereafter they orbited the Earth 10 times in one day and then landed somewhere in the ocean. According to the ones in charge, they officially upheld the contract we signed. What a fucking ripoff.
Yours too long awake,
Arthur Hovinc