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Entry tags:

(cooking, orchard, harvest, therapy notes, fascism, explore center)

Elderberry juice! I steam juiced elderberries the past two weekends and made jelly last night with half the juice. So much sugar. Lesson learned: there is no such thing as too big a pot. The house might still smell like burnt sugar. The win: i remembered to change out of my new shirt and white pants BEFORE opening the juice. Christine likes the flavor, so this is a jelly that i can make that will replace some fraction of her jelly consumption. I'm thinking 4 pint jars might do it. Then someday i will have mayhaws.... Meanwhile, i fantasize about Clowderwood food gifts for friends and family. I was sick during onion scape season so no pickled onion scapes. But there will be figs a plenty this year. Chestnuts and persimmons as well.

I spent my therapy time looking for ways to get in touch with my banked feelings. Banked, like a campfire is banked. Or shoved in the garage. I probably need to journal more about them: it seems i need to communicate to reach them. They don't come forward on their own easily.

Monday night i was standing on the dark deck -- was it cloudy or partly cloudy? I may have seen a satellite through the clouds -- then i was staring at the woods wondering if i would see a firefly. I think they have gone dark for the season. I thought of how i like to imagine our souls, our being, as waves in a shared sea. I am distinct for a while and subside into the shared being that is ... the Divine? The unity of earth's life? I can frame it in many ways. But then i remembered the one time in Meeting for Worship where i was meditating about being in the presence of the Divine, and then had the experience of the Divine seeing me. Which was an uncomfortable exalting intensity. On Monday night that memory pulled up pain and anger. For me, that which Is acts through our hands and sees through our eyes. So many US citizens choosing not to see others but to replace them with stereotypes and tell stories and not witness truth. I am so angry and so pained by this. center

Entry tags:

morning writing

(morning writing)

Quick proof of life post.

Sister's life seems to be on the road to some improvement, although original issue of concern hangs out there still being a concern.

Dad has had a terrible viral infection. Saw him a week ago laying in bed and was taken back to when his mother was in the same bedroom dying. Saw him on Saturday and he was better. Sister saw him on Sunday and observed how terribly he was doing, which was still, per departing brother, better. L-- took him to the transesophageal echocardiogram (TEE) and found he was supposed to be monitored 24 hours after, so he stayed with her.

Brother traveled on Sunday to take the California Bar on Tuesday and presumably failed. (He kept explaining he wasn't getting studying done, it was all about memorization, nothing he works on is covered, and he was definitely going to fail.) Yesterday he found a dear friend died of a heart attack.

Excellent kitchen adventures included steam juicing (although the instant pot got in some confusion about depressurization and lied about keeping the lid locked) and making bay scallop egg rolls with bits of veggie bacon. Also had made blueberry sheet pan pancakes which i took to my Dad and brother on the Saturday.

Christine and i have made reservations for a vacation. We haven't been on a vacation in ages, since the 2017 eclipse. And haven't been to the beach together since ... a Monterey Bay trip? Was that a wedding? Wow dim recesses of memory.) For Reasons i am both looking forward to it and also tempering my expectations. And it may be rescheduled if Dad has medical needs. Still, it was a reach for something positive.

Weather has been dreadfully horribly humid and sauna-like. My temperature sensor in the part of the yard that gets full sun much of the day recorded a heat index of 135°F. No movement on fixing the fence that is a prerequisite to getting kittens (also, we won't get kittens before going on vacation). Contractor we hoped to work with on the barn isn't available/responsive. So on to a random person, i guess.

Continue to escape to novels. Much left undone.

Current Mood: creative

Entry tags:

story

[Story] Worms of Disaster (Part 1)

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Wye

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Current Mood: sad

Out of Road

Today's internet has gone the way of newspapers and radio: dead mediums that once had something, but died of ads and religion. Dead mediums could be brought back if they had something, but the bourgeois class always does this. The tracks show the same pattern as before: A medium of expression that once had things that resonated with people is turned into spammy mcspam, rendered useless by advertising, and is abandoned for the bigots to spread their ugly religion.

Advertising is what capitalist death smells like. Everything they touch turns to ads, religion, and finally dies.

That is the way the internet is going. We used to hope it would replace the bourgeois mass media, because it was empowering. The internet today isn't even called an internet anymore. It's referred to as some sort of cable box with a few channels called "social networks" ... The bourgeois class bought it all out. Google and others changed their search engines so that only a few websites ever show up in a search. It is becoming entirely ads and misinformation. A diseased mass of damned lies.

This time, there's nothing to replace the internet. No new medium to migrate to. And, this has been the story of our time. Of migrating away from ruined platforms. We spend maybe no more than several years on a platform, it gets popular, the advertisers track us down and we have to move to some place less popular where the imbeciles can't find us.

I hear the Marxists over at the RCA have revived newspapers, and even let working class people write articles in it.