Thursday, November 22, 2018

I hate to admit it...

I was watching television today for the first time in quite some time. Was watching the big Macy's parade in New York City. That it was riding a UTube live feed didn't matter, it was network programming of the sort we all grew up on.

Anyway, the parade was on the TV for Beam to enjoy, I was just glancing up every now and then resting my eyes from a VB programming project I took on for a friend (20 years rusty... the dent in my forehead may be back before I finish the thing). Anyhow, it was kind of nostalgic neat to watch the balloons and the marching bands, it settled into the background quite comfortably.

My TV has been seeing a lot of heavy service playing monitor for Omega's notebook computer (HDMI ports are a fine, fine addition to technology... most convenient). Since she's currently working as social media manager for a web crew specializing in matters meta-physical (tarot, astrology, chakra therapy and the like) I've spent a fair amount of time sitting at my desk, working my various projects from the  mundane realms of reality, while listening to all manner of strange things.

I'll not say everything I've heard sounds like a serious contagion vector of Communicable Californication, I've heard some fine advice ride out, albeit to the prompting of a Tarot card (an interesting thing, Tarot, considered from the statistics of the matter, the statistics and the psychology associated to the semantics used by the creator of the various decks, but that's another subject for another time). On the other hand, however, I've equally heard some things that made me seriously wonder if the escape went down while the duty nurse was pulling a choo-choo  for all five aids leaving only the poor janitor to watch the front door.

They use words that have no real meaning, use them with great solemnity. The words don't seem to appear in any common context, venue to venue, very vague, very interchangeable. But apparently they take them seriously.

It gets annoying, filtering out the tonalities of their terribly sincere babble while I'm trying to actually concentrate. About like trying to actually think while incarcerated in some hell fire and brimstone tent revival (the closest comparison available, even though the tent revival paints a much less savory picture of the great beyond than they do). It's Omega's domain (she's a serious student of meta-physics at the PhD level where theology runs head on into sociology, the legends and the symbolism, the traditions and the associated societies, the motivations and the mannerisms) so I just grin and only snark and snipe with a best effort at possibly pertinent sarcasm.

This state of affairs has been going on now for give or take four months as a pretty standard routine. All of which explains why the Macy's parade settled in like an old friend come to visit. But, it wasn't until the network feed cut away to commercials that I actually noticed just how comfortable it really was. When the (yea, I'll go ahead and plug them, they've fed me a time or two) Applebee's commercial came on and I didn't by total reflex throw a mental raspberry riding an Arabic curse at the television (as had been my consistent habit back in the day), when  it  felt comfortable, reliable, when a commercial felt  normal  I  had to admit to myself just what a difference there is between where I came from and where I'm living now.

To dare you to date yourself by recognizing another, and quite unrelated, bit of TV trivia? My current life is definitely a case of you've come a long way, baby. Question is, does anyone know where this road is going?

Monday, November 12, 2018

Button button who has the button... a discussion of Bluetooth Ben-wa balls and the finer points of Polyamory...

N - It sounded like a good idea back in the day, but now it seems, um, silly going on techno-kinky. The whole Dayglow thing, that is.

O - I like the Idea of Dayglow. It feels like a fun, way to daydream up a seriously hot nocturnal dream.

N - *chuckle* It isn’t the shared fantasy I’d grin at, it would be the co-authors trying like all hell to pass each other on the street and not grin at what they’d shared in the past chapter or two. Secrets, don’t you know… you can’t tell theirs or they MIGHT tell yours…