I am making a deliberate effort to leave my phone as far away from my attention as I can, whenever I am able. I’m not looking at the news, I’m not scrolling the feeds, I’m not posting. I’m leaving it in my pocket, my car, in the kitchen, just … not in my face.
This fits into my efforts to slow down and be more present. It’s creating space I desperately need to decompress, get bored, let my mind wander and come back with a fun and creative idea.
Today, I was out for a minute and saw this little art installation on a telephone pole. It was weathered quite a bit; it’s been here for awhile. And it was beautiful to me. It was a few moments better spent than they would have been looking at anything on my phone, or anything I could have been listening to. It wasn’t dysregulating, it didn’t increase my internal DEFCON level.
I chose to experience and appreciate this thing that someone made when they were very much not thinking about me, because it was exactly where I needed it to be, exactly when I needed it.
I took some pictures (using only the camera and nothing else on the phone) so I could remember the moment, and share the art. They’re pretty big, so I’m gonna put them behind a jump.
Art is so important, y’all. Make time to experience it. Allow it to inspire, comfort, and challenge you.
I love public art, and I love the artists who create and install it. Please support your local arts community.
I’m glad you’re here. If you’d like to get my posts in your email, here’s the thingy:
So really, there isn't a lot of point in going diving into the rabbit-hole that's just opened up.
I.e. I am revising my old piece of work for the Fellows' presentations session, and I thought, why not just see if name of author of obscure feminist work cited appears in British Newspaper Archive, which at time I was writing was less in habit of habitually consulting on odd points (did not, I think, have a subscription, for one thing). As otherwise I had no info on her at all.
And, blow me down, she may only have written one book but seems to have committed the odd journalistic opinion piece, and furthermore, is listed as being one of the founders of an organisation set up by Old Suffragettes (or possibly -ists).
Which I find someone has Has Writ A Book About, as one of those women's orgs that have been condescended to by posterity as about the little dears getting together to chat, bless the ladies, and turns out to have been rather more activist in its sphere than one reckoned.
Library to which I have access has copy, but will not let me have online access to ebook for some reason, sigh.
And really, I do have other things to do (thesis to read, book to review, have been solicited to do a podcast, must try and put together a powerpoint for my talk) than dash off down to LSE to look at the archives of the org, right?
Because given the limitations on what it's for, at the moment - however the work in question will develop - it will be a sentence at best, because of time constraints.
After 3 years of prep and struggle to get a permit, today was the first day of construction at Henry St. That is to say the crews came in, hauled away a bunch of junk that we couldn't get rid of fast enough (detritus from 27 years of living there plus the junk left by former tenants. YAY!
This is your check-in post for today. The poll will be open from midnight Universal or Zulu Time (8pm Eastern Time) on Monday, March 09, to midnight on Tuesday, March 10. (8pm Eastern Time).
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1) I am starting plans for a fall foliage road trip in October through Michigan. Anyone have any recommendations?
2) Following up on what I wrote about in my last post, I watched several episodes of Paradise S2. I'm not sure why I'm still watching this. ( Spoilers )
3) By contrast, I saw the Muppet Show (special? Apparently a one-off?) and found it a delight. Disney has definitely struggled in finding a way to utilize the Muppets and two shows have now failed. I'm glad they tried to do something different with them, and I rather liked the show where they were trying to make a more realistic "behind the scenes" Muppet show.
But maybe these days a return to the past would be particularly welcome (and surely there's still a lot of appeal for kids). I've got to imagine they've got a potential guest list a mile long. My partner and I kept thinking that some of the puppeteers must have been filled with glee at being able to recreate this show.
It did make me laugh when Sabrina Carpenter said she'd watched the show, her parents had watched the show, and her grandparents had watched the show. We'd be rather young to be her grandparents but, yeah, 50th anniversary after all.
4) I found the first of my top 3 shows of the year last month when we watched How to Get to Heaven from Belfast. I'd quite enjoyed Derry Girls, so was interested in trying this. I found it had a lot of the fun from Derry with an added mystery at the center. ( Read more... )
5) When in his latest charity auction batch Stephen Colbert listed a Lord of the Rings sword that had been on the stage wall, we couldn't believe he'd be selling such a thing at any price. Turns out it's a replica of the actual sword used in the film, which he already has (and he joked he would be buried with). Even so, I figured it would go for a lot, and it's going to be well over $25,000. His neckties are going for over $1000.
I promised Krissy that I would not buy any new guitars in 2025, and that was a promise I mostly kept (I did buy one guitar, but it was for her). However, it is now 2026, and last month I turned in two full-length books, and I thought therefore it might be okay to treat myself. That said, I pretty much have every guitar I might ever need, in most of the the major body shapes, so if I was going to get any more of them, they needed to fill a niche that was not otherwise occupied.
And, well, guess what? I found two stringed instruments that fit the bill! What a surprise! And as a bonus, neither is technically a guitar.
Small one first: This is an Ohana O’Nino sopranissimo ukulele, “sopranissimo” being a size down from the soprano uke, which is typically understood to be the smallest ukulele that one might usually find. The O’Nino here is seventeen inches long from stem to stern, and is absolutely dinky in the hand. Nevertheless, it’s an actual musical instrument, not a toy, and if you have small and/or nimble enough fingers, plays perfectly well. It’s not going to be anyone’s primary ukulele (I have my concert-sized Fender Fullerton Jazzmaster for that), but if you’re traveling — and I often am — and want to take along a physical music instrument — which I sometimes do! — then this is very much the travel-sized uke to tote around.
There are even smaller ukes available, but those do start being in the “is this a musical instrument for ants” category of things. I’ll stop with a sopranissimo.
Almost literally on the other end of the scale we have the Eastwood BG 64 Baritone Guitarlin. The one type of guitar I did not have in my collection was a baritone guitar (which adds an additional four frets to the guitar on the low end, allowing for a lower/heavier/twangier sound). This particular baritone is one of an esoteric variant of guitar known as a “guitarlin,” in which the guitar adds frets on the high end to be able to access notes that one would only usually find on a mandolin. So, basically, this instrument goes from baritone to mandolin over 35 frets, which is, to be clear, an absolutely ridiculous number of frets to have on a single instrument. I can already see the serious guitarists out there despairing about the intonation in the mando frets, but those people are no fun.
I was traveling when my guitarlin arrived and I haven’t yet been able to play around with it yet, but here’s a short video of the guy who helped design it fooling about with it:
(And yes, I got the one with the tremolo, because of course I did.)
Between these two instruments my collector itch has been scratched for a bit, and I look forward to messing around with both in the upcoming months. I won’t say I won’t get any other guitars ever, but at this point it’s getting more difficult to find where the gaps are in what I have, so I do imagine my acquisitions will slow down rather a bit. Let’s hope, anyway. I’m running out of room in the house for them. Although I guess I do have a whole church, don’t I. Hmmm.
The lives of female prisoners in the 19th Century and those experiencing the criminal justice system today are not dissimilar, a charity worker has said. An exhibition at Newcastle Cathedral is documenting the untold stories from female prisoners at the former Newcastle Prison, which stood in the city's Carliol Square between 1828-1925.
Hmmmm. While I would certainly agree that female desire is not taken seriously enough: A very paternalistic attitude’: why is female desire still not taken seriously?, I am massively, massively, massively cynical about the potential of the 'pink pill' or female viagra as I had several posts here some years back about the very unprepossessing results produced*. In particular I adduce this link to the ever sensible Dr Petra Boynton's thoughts. Is this just being bigged up by pharma entrepreneurs??? *And, of course, the notion that you can fix women's libidos with a magic bullet pill.
Little post - because I'm trying to get back into the habit of journal about random whatevers.
Such a bad night. Awake from midnight to about 4am. Himself woke me up at 6:30am when he left for work, and I moved off the sofa back to big bed but didn't go back to sleep. This is not good. It's a very bad not good. (But I did do all the washing-up in the middle of the night)
Today I am going to make it to crossfit - it's one thing which shifts the needle from doomed to relatively cheerful.
And on the way home I will buy some fruit, and get some spicy chicken pieces for father-in-law to have at lunch.
This is your check-in post for today. The poll will be open from midnight Universal or Zulu Time (8pm Eastern Time) on Sunday, March 8, to midnight on March 9 (8pm Eastern Time).
Saturday breakfast rolls: Tassajarra method, strong brown flour, a spot of Rayner's barley malt extract, cinnamon, raisins, okay (cinnamon a bit past its BBF).
Today's lunch: a pie (bought-in puff pastry) of silken tofu + baby spinach + fresh coriander and flat leaf parsley + garlic - okay, but perhaps a little bland; served with steamed asparagus splashed with melted butter with lime juice and lime zest, and padron peppers.
A couple of days ago the New York Times published an essay from writer Jordan Coley called “How Selling Out Made Me a Better Artist,” in which Coley discovers that all the less-than-amazing pay copy he’d written over the years, from marketing to puff-piece articles and everything in-between, actually made his creative and/or more serious journalism work better, not worse. The still-lingering debate of “art vs commerce” weighs heavily in the piece, as do issues of class and race (Coley is black and comes from a working class background, unlike many of his Yale University contemporaries), and how they both impact how one make’s one’s way in a creative trade.
I encourage you read to read the piece (the link above is a gift link so you can read it at your leisure). I don’t know Coley, or have read enough of his work to say anything about it one way or the other. But I certainly remember my freelance writing years (roughly from 1998 to 2010, when the novel gig finally become remunerative enough that it made sense to focus on it primarily), and my willingness not to be proud about how I was making money, because I had bills to pay and a family to support, and there was no financial support system for me to fall back on. My experience with freelancing certainly resonates with his.
In fact, if I do have any judgements to make against anyone in the “art vs commerce” debate, it’s with the sort of person who would look down on anyone who has to work for a living while also trying to write/create things of significance. One, of course, it’s an immensely privileged position to take, and one that is increasingly at odds with the reality of making a living in the writing field, or in the arts generally. It’s never been a great time to be a professional writer, ever, but these days the field is being aggressively hollowed out both from above (newspaper/magazine/Web sites laying off staff positions) and below (“AI” being used, usually poorly, for a gigs that writers used to do). Anyone who looks down their nose at someone else’s hustle to exist, can, genuinely, go fuck themselves. Short of writing hateful material, here in this capitalist hellscape, a gig is a gig.
Two, and as Coley points out in his essay, the experience of the hustle is in itself fertile ground for writing. It makes you develop a range of writing tools you can employ elsewhere, it puts you in situations that you would not have otherwise been and allows you to mine those experiences for later writing, and it makes you get out in the world and see it from the point of view of people who might not have come into your orbit and situation. That includes any day job, not just ones related to the arts. As a writer, and as a creator, nothing one ever does, professionally or personally, needs to be wasted. It’s all fuel for the creative engine.
With all that said, I think it’s important not to construct a strawman opponent, just to burn it down with self-satisfaction. Coley’s battle with “art vs commerce” was more about his own internal battle than it was against the opprobium of others. I have run across a few snobs in my time who seemed to look down at people who had to work for a living, but it’s only been a few. The vast majority of the creative folks I know are entirely comfortable with the idea that you have to pay bills, and sometimes that means doing less than 100% creatively fulfilling work in order to keep the proverbial roof over one’s head. Whether that has to do with me mostly working in genre literature, which has always been the domain of jobbing writers, is a question to be answered some other time.
The point is the internal discussion of “am I wasting my life paying bills when I should be making art” is these days as much if not more often the issue, than any external question about how one is spending one’s time. For myself, I tended to resolve this question as such: The fact of the matter is I am only really ever creative a few hours a day, three or four hours tops, and often less than that. So why not spend that creative downtime, you know, making money? Concurrent to this, the stuff that I was doing to make that money were frequently things I could bat out fast and with facility, enough so that often my train of thought was “I can’t believe how much I’m getting paid to do this.” I wasn’t cheating anyone or ever turning in bad product. It was just, you know, easy. I was delighted to make easy money! I would do it again!
Anyway: If you’re a writer or creator, never be ashamed of what else you do. It’s 2026 and this special flavor of gilded age we live in at the moment means that what qualifies as “selling out” has an extremely high bar. Making a living was very rarely “selling out” in any era. I think these days the phrase should be mostly reserved for writing things you absolutely don’t believe, for the sort of people you would in fact despise, with the result of your work is you making the world worse for everyone. Avoid doing that, please.
Short of that, get paid, have those experiences and develop new tools. All of it will be useful for the art you do care about. That’s not selling out. That’s learning, with compensation.
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