Minigames Are Sometimes Whatever Is Happening In China After Heavy Brooding I Forget That Writing It Works To Put Things Off Every Night I Was Unfaithful Grilling The Egg and Cheddar with Jalapeno on Roll Review This Book Idea Escaped Hell To Wager Along After Two Coors Lites And An Eggplant Parmesan I Hope You Enjoy Watching Old Friends Play A Player's Guide

Minigames Are Sometimes better than the game itself. Chao Gardens, Gummi Ships, home customization, character builders, fishing, etc. I've been trying to figure out what it is about them that is appealing. The first thing that comes to mind is how it can become stressful and repetitive to play a game, so the minigame can liberate the player and allow them to experience freedom again. Which is pretty funny because the game itself is supposed to do that operation for someone's life. Which is not to say I think games are about escapism, but they are about enjoying freedom, which can become complicated to do in one's own base level life, and which is incidentally what I also thing art is about. So the minigame thought becomes important for a lot of reasons.

There's a Büttner painting I'm obsessing over called "Selbst mit gefangenen Gänsen" where he painted himself grabbing two geese by the necks. And they're flapping around like crazy so the background looks like gales and feathers. A real raucous event except his face is Stone Cold. I think he has a middle part and his mouth is just a line like you're supposed to put a coin in it for him to move. When I first saw it scrolling through some shizz I was in shock. It's so funny. Silly even. The only painting that is about honking.

In the press release, some giant idiot writes, "Painted metaphors also appear in the supposed self-portraits, that question the artist´s role model and refer to his possible influence on society. Werner Büttner doesn´t present any heroic artist poses or attitudes but shows in his Selbstporträt "mit gefangenen Gänsen" (Self portrait with captured geese) what is left: to have a ridiculous power over animals." While the deflationary bit about the role of the artist feels like basic yeah Bad Painting whatever, the whole point of the painting is that it's awesome to catch geese. I don't think the painting operates in metaphor at all actually so much as it says "it's awesome to catch geese in real life and also in paintings." The thing about paintings is they want to be looked asked "what is this one about..." This one is about catching geese. It is also a self portrait. I then apply Aesthetic Logic to these two pieces of information to Deduce that the Artist Catches Geese. The artist is not like someone who catches geese, they are someone who catches geese.

The artist does a lot of different things one of those things could be painting and within painting one could portray themselves as doing many other things. Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror is about looking in a curved mirror. Parmigianino had to do that in real life to paint the painting, but also wanted to figure himself doing that within the painting. That is one of the good things about painting oneself, is that they are about wanting to see yourself doing something, and so they are also about wanting others to see yourself doing something. If they are good then they make the viewer want to see you do that thing you wanted to see yourself doing. I want to see Büttner paint himself, but I also want to see him catch geese, as I want to see Parmigianino look at himself in a curved reflection. Is it more fun to do a thing in real life or do it within the space of one's own artwork?

In moving to self-portraiture, the artist admits they are bored by the repetition of whatever portrayal of subject came before. The artist might no longer enjoy doing the task of making work, but they nevertheless must continue to make work. So instead of leaving to go fish, they fish within their artwork. Probably not all self-portraiture is about getting bored or frustrated with task. But I think self-portraiture or any kind of attendance to the subject of the artist themselves is a minigame in art.

Not sure thought, because with minigames in games, the structure of play changes. There could be a sports game within a shooter or something. Maybe that's a bad example. But a self-portrait does not necessarily change the structure of making the work, it just allows the artist to be doing things within the space of the artwork. Hmmmmm... Well in the Parmigianino the terms of painting are changed actually, distorted by the curved mirror, whereas in the Büttner the painting lies about what the painter is doing during the moment of it's production. So it could go either way.

Dink and I used to fish at a pond on his Grandpa's property in West Virginia. He has a ton of acres, and the pond is formed by a damned stream that cuts through it. There were bluegill, catfish, and bass in the pond. We would release the catfish and bass the normal way, but we would try and skip the bluegill like rocks. Bluegill Skipping. The catfish were super floppy and covered our shirts in their slime. Fishing is a good minigame in real life because there's nothing like holding onto a wiggly fish, likewise fishing is a good minigame because the controller vibrates when there is a hook on the line. There might be something essential to being aware of one's own hands here. Büttner clutching the goosenecks, Parmigianino making his hand the biggest thing in the painting.

Tasks within tasks. Not an ever-growing list of tasks to accomplish one goal, but the opening of a new system of tasks governed by a new goal within an old one. Not adding ceaseless details to an image, but needing to construct one part of it by practicing one-inch-punches on donut until the texture is just right so it can be scanned and used as a texture map for concrete. There's more here to get into, stuff about having a kid and how that is like a minigame too. I wonder what drink everyone is on in The River Challenge

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Whatever Is Happening In China seems so distorted by media trends. I keep seeing videos on the feed of this one village guy who cooks some crazy shizz. Paleozoic looking animals I thought didn't exist anymore. Reminds me of this DVD I used to watch as a kid called Walking with Monsters - Life Before Dinosaurs which is still central to how I navigate the world in some way I cannot explain. This weird kid Will Edge (which I now recognize as the incredible name that it is) put us on to it. Will was super into Ren & Stimpy which I never really got into. He had a catchphrase too. Crazy guy like his veins had toxic goo in them instead of blood.

So this Chinese guy cooks these abnormal meals and basically each meal just has a bunch of chilis in it and is cooked on a fire in some dirt or something. Was he always eating trilobites? This is why I never cared about delicacies. The organ meat trend was so stupid. It's like shock porn or something. There's a reason we like to eat normal stuff. The whole return to tradition eat raw meat or whatever thing is so lame. The rhetoric around like oh cavemen didn't sit at desks all day so neither should we. Like yeah okay but this isn't thousands of years ago it's today. There are certain things, structures, etc. available and they're just as real as a pile of rocks even if they haven't been around as long.

On Alibaba I've been dming with this guy Frank Yan who works for a factory in Kunshan, Jiangsu, China. Kunshan Hiicoins Technology Co., Ltd. Main Categories: Embroidery Products, Acrylic Products, Metal Products, PVC Products. I think they do a couple million a year mainly on keychains. Right now Frank and I are going back and forth on the metals for a keychain I need for a show at the end of the month. I doubt it'll actually get here in time but at this point I really just like having an excuse to chat with Frank. He's super nice. After sending an invoice for the other thing I bought from him, I told him it was late in my timezone and I needed to go to bed, but I'd send him the money the next day. He told me goodnight. When I told him my kid was born he told me congratulations you have babe now. Real sweet guy. Wants to do more cooperations soon so I hit him up with the new job and he sent me a handshake emoji. I want to have some beers with him one day. The past couple days though he's seemed a little distant. Maybe because the designs for this keychain I need are kind of scary faces. Maybe he thinks I'm weird. I want to explain everything too him but that'd probably be even weirder. I need to stop selling myself short. Allow others to form and respond with their own opinions instead of projecting. He could really be into it after all, perhaps have some ideas himself or at least a response to contribute. I would tell him my friend has a gallery in a sprayfoamed basement in Upstate New York and I'm making these wall pieces that I think of as thubmnails. And they need these faces that are kind of like the happy and sad theater faces but not at all because one is really angry and the other is kind of angry and looks like a pain pill to be overhanging from the wooden frame that holds the thumbnail image in place. I would ask Frank for his thoughts on the artist-run. He has an actual factory to attend too. Probably other responsibilities as well. Tried searching for him online, to see if I could understand what other responsibilities Frank has, but just found his headshot and a link to Kunshan Hiicoins Technology Co., Ltd.

In his headshot he's wearing a seersucker button down shirt and staring down into the camera. Behind him is a gold foil image of what might be a dragon in clothing on the wall. Over his other shoulder is an oscillating fan.

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After Heavy Brooding on getting a teaching assignment for a course I have no interest or experience in, I wrote the professor I came to the program for who was pushed into early retirement by moving to Thailand during the pandemic and staying there and being mean to students. I've been feeling more and more disappointed in the program without him, reaching what I imagine to be the most possible disappointment, restructuring my expectations and commitment, only to have the disappointment iterate, having to realize over and over I can become even more checked out. We hadn't messaged for over a year. Apologised for messaging him, updated him on how it continues to surprise me just how far gone everyone in the department is, and asked how he was doing, if he was working on any writing. No pressure to respond. He wrote back within thirty minutes "Ha--you've arrived at Greek wisdom. Welcome to Earth. Good luck on all fronts. I left Albany and am living in Asia now." I replied shortly after being like yeah... so how's Asia and your writing? No response. Not surprised that he was into dunking on university and then peaced. Would really like to see what he's writing though... One of the only people left who I feel can really think through writing. Also secretly want to get myself in the mix, maybe get an acknowledgement just to flex on an ex-friend.

Day was cool otherwise played Diablo IV while Galine slept on me. Felt really happy. Reconsider life type happiness where I'm wondering if this could just be my day to day life. In some ways it already is and seems feasible that it could continue this way for some time. Will need more loot eventually. For now I have loot aversion except when it's in-game.

Friends came over and we had some good conversations about other friends, family, project scheming. Thinking of doing some kind of Renaissance Fair in a courtyard of a poetry place in the East Village. Our project is easily reframed into being some agricultural reappraisal back to the land food activism type thing but really it's just selling vegetables. So we plotted ways to include throwing tomatoes at performers and other food waste activities that would counteract that identification. Would be really good if it was heirloom tomatoes, paying no heed to one of the vegetable's bestowed with the most sanctity. I don't like when people elevate farming as if it's something essentially different from working in an office. Food should be food. The Chef's Table type or even Bourdain type perversion of cooking and eating into some exalted mode of expression is the worst thing to happen in the 21st century. Cooking isn't art. You make something kind of tasty and people eat it and that's it. Art isn't even the art the people making these shows are imagining it is. There's no slow motion nor is there classical music in aesthetic experience. There's also no Romantic celebration of struggle or whatever Bourdain was going on about. Working in a restaurant means hanging out with Mexican guys who are really funny and make gay jokes. Julia Child, Martha Stewart, Giada De Laurentiis, Rachel Ray, all the GOATs were lightyears ahead of these gastronomists because they just demonstrated recipes and filled dead air with light banter. The set designs were insane as was the theme music. Somewhere along the line guys must have gotten jealous and turned it into this blown out insane thing. Blue chip paint n sips.

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I Forget That Writing used to be so much of who I was. Not as in an identification with the term, but I would write something and then look at it later and think "that's me." I worry that's all that art is for, making something to look at later and be like "that's me." I don't think this particular writing will produce this self-recognition in the same way I am missing. Do I miss myself? Attempted self-recognitition by shotgunning a Modelo by the sink before singing the compassion mantra to put Galine to sleep. Unsuccessful. I don't yet know her well enough to miss her. Never mind, thought about it and I do miss her now that she's asleep.

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It Works To Put Things Off in order to do other things. Relevant to the previous attention to the minigame. I have at least two lists which are supposed to govern my activities once I reach a free time state. One list is a lined notepad with cartoon penguins running along the left side, the other list is a text file on the top right corner of my secondary monitor. The penguin notepad has been going on for a while, as it's nice to look at the penguins and also to throw out pages upon completion. The text file is more a recent development. An easier list to keep running while I'm on the computer. And although it's a list, I sometimes start bits of writing beneath the list, which enacts the point above, to put off the entire list in favor of writing a bit down.

When the stress of needing to do something is present, it can either drive me to finish the task and get it out of the way, usually ending in a frenzied exhaustion, or it can provide a backdrop to which I can practice avoidance by working on unrelated things. Needing to do the dishes makes me sacrifice it all to get those dishes cleaned at once or, makes it easier to sweep the floor. If I had to reduce all of my processing of any task to two structures it would be these, frenzied exhaustion or avoidance. Tragedy or comedy, and their unstable relation. Everything else, the particularities of the tasks or my own emotional state in response to them would be nonessential to the two systems of negotiating activity. I typically thrive in avoidance, the best work is liberated by its propulsion away from a primary task, which is why I'm better at being funny than I am at being honest.

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Every Night, I'll have a thought or two that I try to fall asleep thinking about. The past few nights it's been about making a really big book, what kinds of things should happen within a really big book, how it should be bound, its dimensions, whether it would have multiple bookmark ribbons or some other kind of admission to its own size.

Maybe the large book would be constructed with fidget toys along its front and back covers or spine, another admission to its own size. Though flipping pages is a kind of attentional modifier. A textured hardcover could be nice. Or a cover with one of those slide puzzles or marble maze games where you have to change its orientation to get the metal marble through the maze, embedded within it. Then as the book is being read, it could unintentionally solve the maze without trying.

My first manuscript was titled "Big Book." I liked the name because it was so generic, but would refence the variety of writing within itself, asserting that variety was the only thing important to know about its content, the content becoming unimportant. The alliteration is good too, two heavy b's feels really stupid and cumbersome, but not unloveable. Like a fat drunk bear wrestling another fat drunk bear in Santa Claus costumes. The book was more stylistically various than that. I don't think the writing ever lived up to the title. Maybe my writing now could live up to the title, though I'm still not sure, if I really worked for it and did some drills. I could try again in a year by my estimations.

Thomas Bayrle has a great big yellow book that is on several of my wish lists across various book-buying websites, titled Big Book. The cover reads "BAYRLE / BIG / BOOK." It looks so good, tidy but various, judging by the very few pictures of its interior available. Mainly black and white, combinations of small text and large images. But who knows really. Might go ahead and buy it this week. Need a bookshelf for next to my desk though, things have gotten out of hand to the point where I'm just avoiding the stack. Real bad. Potential dust hazard. If I am smart I will buy a shelf or wood for a shelf along with the book. Maybe the biggest book is a bookshelf.

It's nice that Amazon was the first major website of my lifetime. Or so it seemed. Yahoo was huge too, but I always confused it with the game Ultimate Yahtzee, which I am trying to find the exe for, but fear there are compatibility problems with my newer Windows. All these perfect names. My Aunt had a few early Kindles that I remember really enjoying for their interesting button layouts, and for the latency between inputs and the response of the e-ink screen. The device was in between physical and digital, book and computer, store and library. The history of books has major overlap with the history of the internet, not only in the concepts which are used for representing virtual objects and experiences, but in a material way as well through Amazon. A global booktrade network named after a bunch of soggy trees. Now they sell food too from a grocery store that can deliver called Whole Foods. If people started using Amazon differently, it could be a really great social media platform. Make a post as a listing for an object, people comment on the listing by leaving a review. There is a fun idea there, where a social media platform could replace likes with the five star review system. This would surely inform a whole new kind of posting.

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Grilling is an intense test of one's ability to endure confusion, anxiety, and uncertainty. Taken from within its own limits, there is no way to know whether or not one is grilling the right way. Eating validates the work of grilling, though from an anterior perspective which is categorically distinct. The more a player is capable of maintaining composure, the more they are rewarded in the aftermath.

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The Egg and Cheddar with Jalapeno on Roll Review

Rony's Deli and Grill *****
Interior has all the signs of a bad sandwich. Dust on expired chip bags even though those should have the highest turnover. They have the Mexican channels though, sometimes would linger and watch bits of a game. First place I discovered I could specify a cheese type. Maybe they asked once. Very buttery egg. Wrapped in nice deli paper. Milk in the deli counter where it's supposed to be.

Four J Food **.5
Didn't know it had a name. Watched people freak out about losing money on the lottery and freak out about getting their ticket. Also saw the Bazzini nut guy refill the nuts a lot. Even if it wasn't the nut guy, odds were someone was restocking something. Imagined a mutual crush with the cashier, which was total fantasy though not actually something I wanted. So the best kind of crush. Not sure why or how it started. Very liberal scoops of sugar for coffee.

Green Deli Mart and Grill ***
A few blocks up from the previous. Always thought of it as the fancy one. Crazy chip selection. Nobody ever freaking out outside. Cook one time hooked it up with some goat that was just fine but he was really excited about it. Chips were always super spicy. Lot's of vapes at the register always felt super pressured to buy one. Nice owner though, he'd be sweeping out fron in the early morning when I'd go in before work. In most of my memories of bodegas, it's hot outside. But here specifically it's cold.

Genuine Deli or Roll & X Deli & Grill **.5
They are the same place but moved next door around half way through my regularship. Genuine Deli probably better though. Spent the most time waiting in line here because there is a bust stop right outside. Cashier was always trying to make jokes. Pretty funny. But like all comedians he had a sensitive side that was always near the surface. Loved talking about visiting the blueberry farms in Maine. Nothing too notable except coffee was on the customer side so I filled it myself.

Bushwick Gourmet Deli ???
Can't even remember it but if I went here I would cry.

West Village Deli INC ****
Solid sandwich super fast because it's a construction guy lunch spot. Smells really good in there during lunch because the buffet is moving. Also a place with very spicy chips. Best days I would walk to the river and eat on a bench in between working for this psycho who lived around the corner. A Canadian potato farm heiress paid his bills, so also paid me. One day I decided I was done. Probably went back to this deli once after, though I was paranoid of being seen.

Hamilton Deli ***
Garden level and funny layout where it's two rooms connected by the chip section. So you know I was often in the way. First room has the grills and cooks and cashiers, second room has the salad maker and drinks. Only place I ever got the punch card for free sandwiches after ten I think. Still have it in my wallet. My free sandwich would usually be an eggplant parm with jalapenos. Candy section at the front was particularly arousing even though I'm not one for sweets. Not sure what that was about. I think the display had an enticing design. So many cooks working here because students would flood during lunch.

Marche Madison ***.5
Spiciest jalapenos. They would often ask if I wanted pickled or fresh, warning me that fresh were much spicier. You know I had to. Not too bad, even if he really loaded them on as if to try and ensure my demise. Once a guy swooped in as I was paying, stuck his hand in the tip jar to grab a wad of bills and walk out, but the cashier grabbed his arm and just held it. Like she knew he was coming in. They stared at eachother as I stared at them until the guy released and ran off. Think I told her good job and left a generous tip as if he had made off with the loot. Did this without thinking, not sure why.

Tompkins Finest Deli & Grill ***
Only went here a few times so almost didn't include it, but worth noting I only ever ate the sandwich from here while walking. Never went to the park to sit down.

NYC Deli Food Corp **.5
Always zoned out in the aisles. Wireframe shelves with weird cookies. Good drink selection. Maybe something with the lighting, or the fact the counter where the cashier was at was so high up I would get nervous about going up to check out. Like I was getting food from the judge.

Stuyvesant Mini Market *
A lot of attitude here for no reason. Not a lot of good egg and cheddar with jalapeno on roll. Too close to the train.

Amsterdam Marketplace ****.5
After too many martinis, this place rose from the fog like an angel after returning to the hotel. Also the only place I started going to after moving out of the city. It is singular in that way. Perfect layout. And the bagel stack sign on the front is incredible. The way it fits that small wall perfectly so as to appear as if a column, holding up the entire building. Only place to include a straw in the bag without me asking. Close second for spiciest chips.

Cart on 59th and Park ***
Another place that's cold in my memory. Cart was only out very early mornings. Would also get a coffee with a ton of hazelnut Coffee Mate. Sometimes would also grab some donuts for Pablo and Luis.

Gourmet Fresh ****
Pick out my own roll and had it to them on the counter, which was nice because I could get the one with sesame seeds on it. Great chip and snack selection because it's in a grocery store. Another place where you get to make your own coffee. Would go here when I was catsitting around the corner. Typically in a good, carefree mood since catsitting meant I had time to waste.

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This Book Idea will not let me sleep: apply many coats of varnish (or really anything that could be applied as coats) to a piece of paper until it becomes very thick and stiff. The paper could be flat, folded, or crumpled. But if multiples is the goal, there should not be variety in how the paper is presented, otherwise the Book will be about variation instead of the application of layers.

What torments is not knowing whether or not this is a good book idea. The funny part of the idea is that there is one page but many coats. The part of the idea to focus on more is that the paper can turn back into wood through this artificial ossification, both by way of its stiffened exterior, but also by the specific choice of yacht varnish.

I hope now that I have shared this Book Idea, sleep will grant to me its gentle passage. I hope that this Book Idea does not torment others, but instead liberates them from their suffering. The truth is I've struggle to type this for a while now as I am indeed falling asleep at the wheel.

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Escaped Hell at long last. A few nights ago I was watching a livestream of a jazz show Alex was at in person. I tried to find him in the audience but none of the camera angles afforded my the view. Instead I saw a couple in the front row making out and sent a pic to Alex. He said that was the singer, it's always the singer. We had a good laugh and continued making fun of the various musicians who emerged onto the stage.

Deep into this late-night revelry, I heard a pounce from behind me, turned around to see Theaphora had jumped onto the couch near where Galine was sleeping, just as a blur passed by a few feet above her. Tracked the blur to find it was a bat. Grabbed sleeping Galine and hunting Theaphora and scooted hunched to the safety of the bedroom on the other side of the apartment, collected myself, and returned to the scene to try and figure out what to do with the bat, who was now flying in circles close to the ceiling.

With no net or anything, I needed to try and either get the bat to fly out a window or tire it out enough to where I could capture it. So I opened all the windows I could and found the swiffer to try and shepherd the bat somewhere. Two hours without success, though I was able to keep the bat from resting. I didn't think they were distance animals, but it essentially sprinted in circles for two hours, so maybe I'm wrong. Apparently it's their mating season, so maybe they have an abundance of energy. Anytime the bat would stop and perch, I would poke it with the swiffer which now had a long curved part of an LED lamp ductaped to the end, almost resembling a scythe. But the clever bat eventually found the one place I could not poke it, behind the top section of a large mounted mirror in our living room. Defeated, I closed the windows and went to bed, hoping the bad would be in the same place in the morning, since I'd at least exhausted it.

As the sun came up, we saw some marks on Galine's forehead. She scratches herself fairly often, so at first there seemed nothing out of the ordinary, but after a compulsion to search "bat bite," all panic broke loose. The marks resembled the same shape and form of some of the available pictures. We were terrified of the very real chance that the bat had bitten Galine. I became angry and stomped back into the living room. Grabbed the scythe and poked into the space behind the mirror to try and wake the bat, see if it was even still there. No response, so I switched to the other end and still nothing. I started to believe the bat had escaped through the hole it arrived in during the hours I was sleeping. Having disrupted our illusion of safety in its jarring interruption, perhaps it had taken its leave.

More searching about what to do with potential bat bite. We washed the area and decided to call the pediatrician, who said they didn't handle bites, so we had to call the Department of Health. The Department of Health said we needed to catch the bat so we could test it for rabies. There is a rabies vaccine readily available, but apparently you need the approval from your county's Department of Health in order to receive the treatment, they said because it's so expensive. We told them we saw bite marks, but because I was in the room with Galine and I didn't hear her scream from being bitten, they deemed the exposure risk too low to approve the treatment. I wondered at this point if in the raucous last night I too had been bitten by the bat, whether we would both contract rabies out of the negligence of the Department of Health.

There are only three cases of rabies on average in America each year, but thousands globally. There is no cure for rabies once symptoms set in. I imagined trying to fight off the hydrophobia in a week, how I would force myself to drink water and beat the odds. I didn't want to think about how Galine was also at risk, so I kept imagining myself as the recipient as I inspected the apartment for the criminal bat. We told our landlord, because this isn't the first time there's been a bat in the apartment, so he sent his dad and the maintenance guy, who looked around as well, going up the latter to inspect the most probably place behind the mirror with a flashlight. The latter is too short, so we both had to use our phones like a periscope to look into the space. They were also unsuccessful. In the case that we couldn't find the bat soon enough for testing, we were told the Health Department would approve the treatment. Though by their metrics, we had ten days to take the treatment. This seemed like way too long a time, when I searched for rabies symptoms it seemed like there was a range for the onset that could be much shorter or longer.

The Department of Health was of no use. Their process was so obscure and they refused to illuminate any of it, reassure us of our safety, or offer any helpful instructions outside of "catch the bat so we can test it." We called professional animal catchers to see if they had any better luck at finding the bat. They said they only would come catch an animal if it was contained in a room, but they would make an exception for our situation because a child was involved. We were grateful, but time felt so steeped in anxiety, we ended up missing their arrival, though a friend was around so they would wait around and let them in. It was getting late in the day, and with no sign of the bat but a stewing sense of dread, I decided we should go to the Pediatric ER to get Galine's bite evaluated by someone in person. Maybe then they could convince the Department of Health of the severity. On the way out of the garage, a fire truck pulled up right in front of our driveway, so I had to turn the car at an angle to reverse out through the gap between the back of the truck and a signpost. A man was wheeled out in a stretcher into an ambulance as we pulled out to the Pediatric ER. Cried a lot while driving. The security guard took our pictures at the entrance and printed them as identificatory stickers we placed on our clothing. We waited in several rooms. I thought about getting Panera across the street as I was super hungry by now, but never ended up going. Somewhere in our waiting we received a text that the professional animal catchers had found the bat in exactly the place I'd been looking, and were in the process of putting duct tape on a plastic quart container which held the bat in its prison for us to get home. We were elated to have an answer, but still wanted to hear from the doctors. They had better compassion than the Department of Health, but provided no real direction either, deferring responsibility back and forth. Again, the Department of health ruled we should wait for the test on the bat.

For whatever reason, they wanted to receive the bat frozen, so when we got back home, and after I'd eaten, I put on Ganger and took a peak at the bat in its quart container. It was upside-down, hanging from the lid. I placed the container in a takeout bag and walked it to the freezer, switched up Ganger for Greek Orthodox Funeral Hymns, and placed the bat in the freezer. Said some kind of prayer and wondered at what point in the night it would die. Thought about how horrible a death it would be, imagining the bat's fangs chattering in the cold. Then wondered how long it would take to die if I stood in twenty-four degree temperatures with only shorts and a shirt on. Probably a long time, but I don't know.

The next morning I drove the bat to the government building wherein the Department of Health office was located. The bottom floor had the DMV, so I had to ask the security guard how to get to the Department of Health. He was nice and directed me towards the elevator, saying I needed to go to the fifth floor. Only one elevator was running, and everyone on it was complaining about how it always malfunctioned. Made it to the fifth floor and found the Department of Health window. The person there was nicer than anyone we spoke to on the phone, and asked if I wanted the results even if they were negative. The dumbest question I've ever heard. Still nice, though. I asked if I needed to write my name on the container or if this was the only bat today. She said it was the only one.

Back home so panicked about everything, just needed to wait now. Kept searching the same picture of the bat bite and comparing it. Same triangle wound shape. Why would a bat bite Galine. Watched a lot of reels in an effort to distract, ordered takeout and drank rose.

Today was a lot more waiting. Decided to fast until the message came. Called a few times to check. Eventually got the news it was negative. Felt sad the bat had to die, but played more Greek Orthodox Funeral Hymns and felt better. Leaving out a lot of details probably because of exhaustion.

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To Wager Along the track of life is to accept one's own practical commitments for their inflation of the future's dramatic intensity. I want to see myself win, somehow, in the long term, though this long term may in fact never arrive. This is not a desire to be correct in premonitions but a desire to be understood by an environment that feels aligned with my internal map of Truth. I've been considering a specific wager for some time that has to do with visibility on the internet. Consider this: if a friend shows me a gallery or press or etc by sending their website to me, I might have a genuine experience of their direction, style, development, aesthetic, and enjoy the discovery, perhaps even become someone who checks back in over time, a fan. Weeks later, I may find their social media accounts and my value of the project immediately plummets. In part, this happens because of the Social Media Follower Growth Framing Function, wherein any post on a social media account will seem, by the very frame of its platform, as if a ploy to gain more followers. That same post, if under the terms of an email blast, could be genuinely informative and in the spirit of sharing. But given the conventions of the Social Media Follower Growth Framing Function, any post regardless of intention will become recircuited within platform premises to appear as if having different intentions. Even, or perhaps especially, rejection of the Function within the space of the platform will ironically become perceived as a marketting strategy for the sake of Follower Growth. And yet of course truth is popular reception necessitates activity outside the boutique domain of the homepage. The question emerges, how could one determine which projects, events, publications, shows, etc. appear so as to maximize the possibility of real experience without creating an imperceptible island?

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After Two Coors Lites And An Eggplant Parmesan, both of which I wish to indulge myself with today, last night I laid in bed and texted Thomas about writing. He has my book displayed prominently in his apartment, which is funny and very sweet because he is completely disconnected from the circuits that give the book its potential sense, at least at face value. Thomas thinks there is something innately difficult about writing, or any creative act. In response, I am arguing that writing is in fact extremely easy, you just write the words that otherwise glance or careen through your mind. Once you begin the practice you notice your thoughts have more lasting power, just enough that you are able to mark them down and create the semblance of something written. Both of us may be right, but for whatever reason, it does make me upset when people act like they can't write, when the whole basis of writing seems to be that its generically free and open for all to partake in. There's little creation involved, the words are already there.

Secured a small bag by successfully selling 512 digital aquatic bubble creatures. Was a kind of proof that perhaps repeating the formula could net some kind of stable alternative income source. Odd and absurd, but potentially enjoyable and refreshing. A few days earlier, showed some physical thumbnails at a friend's gallery. The whole production was a nightmare of ruined prints, poorly calculated cure times, and another bat which absorbed a crucial day of assembly, but having had the experience of physical artwork and digital artwork events back to back has me thinking about whether or not I even like physical artwork. If I'm being honest with myself, I prefer the mediation of the screen or the page. Couldn't bring myself to look at the finished wall pieces up close in real life, but I'll enjoy the documentation of the show afterwards. That kind of thing. It feels wrong though, which is how I know I'm being honest with myself.

Although I believe in the importance of the name or author, when it comes to myself I'm a bit squirrelly, shy-mode. With most digital art, it's more common for the name to be obscured or effaced in a not so cringe way as if you were going to do that irl. This could be part of it. The experience of the artwork in front of a screen or in a book is also private in comparison to the experience of an artwork in a gallery. I enjoy the privacy a lot, though I understand the social necessity of reception. Well maybe I don't actually. There is so much vocabulary wrapped up in physical artwork that feels insane, hanging up a painting is called "install," for example. Even my prior use of "documentation" feels like something I could regret writing, where instead I should have chosen pictures" or something. My desire for normalcy is overwhelming at the moment, it is influencing my attention towards insignificant things.

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I Hope You Enjoy this toy.
I'm sorry it's been so long.
Please accept this for now.

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Watching Old Friends Play Baldur's Gate 3 I realize the central structure of my happiness as it emerged from childhood, which has to some extent influenced all of my misguided decisions to hone crafts in pursuit of illusions and impossibilities, is presently available to experience in its purest form.

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A Player’s Guide and the video game it guides have a particular relationship that is difficult to find elsewhere. The closest thing might be the relationship between song and music video, which may not make much sense at first, but if this is the case, I request you consider the demonstrative instructional quality of the music video, wherein a music video demonstrates not only a visual analogue to a song, but a way of listening to that song, if its a good music video. I can listen to a song and think huh ok nice song, but on my viewing and listening the song as it appears in its music video I might think something else, I might gain a particular access point towards my subsequent listenings of the song. I’ve probably written about this before here, but I write it again and again to illustrate the point. The song the music video is about is changed after listening to the song in the context of the music video. I can no longer hear the song as distinct from its presentation within the world of its video.

The same might go for a players guide, though a player’s guide or walkthrough is more directly instructional than a music video. A good player’s guide does not just direct the player to the winning conditions of the game, it demonstrates a way of playing the game that is one of many, though it will argue by its very form that this way of playing is the best way. Maybe it would be impossible to write a guide that was pure winning conditions, every guide is just a demonstration of a way of playing to varying degrees of beauty.

I use the term beauty her as opposed to success. Just as there are not better or worse ways of listening to a song, only varying degrees of beauty or enrichment, there are no better or worse ways of playing a game. Speedrunning, kaizo, etc might be a special case which could illuminate this further.

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