Felt like a bit of auto-pilot this week, activities on most evenings and packed days in between.
Books
Bright Young Women by Jessical Knoll. A little disappointed in the end, as it veered away from what I was most interested in, but it kept me turning pages, and that’s victory enough.
Rainbows End: A Novel With One Foot In The Future by Vernor Vinge. Just begun – lively!
Running
A return to a higher-mileage week after winter dormancy. Also ran with a group from the office, which was novel. (Running in Manhattan at 6pm is really annoying!)
Explored a new park this morning, a rare bit of quiet.
Articles & Episodes & Twoots
“what does it seem like everyone else is mysteriously bad at? That’s probably a sign that you have good taste there.”
I feel for the owners, but I like the vandalizing woodpecker.
Overhead view of Manhattan looking south, 1931. (via)
Dispatches from my year of classical music.
Why Have Sentence Lengths Decreased?
Music
Paolo Fresu, kind of MILES. Cool jazz covers.
Mark Pritchard, Thom Yorke, Gangsters. “Back in the Game” is just about perfect.
Kuniko, Steve Reich, kuniko plays reich. The steel pans in the first movement of “Electric Counterpoint” was unexpected and completely perfect.
Mandrill. I overheard “Chutney” playing at my go-to burrito place, and had to know what it was. Blues rock, hippie flute jams, west african drumming, they got the whole stew. “Peace and Love (Amani Na Mapenzi) – Movement V (Beginning)” was another fave.
Blanc du Blanc, Scientist, Scientist Meets Blanc du Blanc: Before the Beginning. Trippy reverby headspace dub. See: “Taming Power of the Small: Dance of the Celestial Beings“.
Movies
The Social Network. Still great. Filed under: David Fincher.
Sinners. Overstuffed to its benefit and detriment. A lot to say but I don’t now what it means to say. At its best when leaning into music-video excess and reality-bending. Too many endings!
Flow. Pleasant and kinda boring. Like watching someone play an open-world video game, but more aimless and cloying. Beautiful, though.
Dark City. Second watch, just as good as the first. A weird little masterpiece.
A Poem
“Walk On” by Donna Carnes
You walk on
Still beside me
Eyes shadowed in dusk;
You’re the
Lingering question
At each day’s end.
I have to laugh
At how
Open-ended you remain
Still with me
After all these years
Of being lost.
I carry you like
My own personal
Time Machine,
As I put on my lipstick, smile,
And head out to
The party.
Mark Larson 