Wearing my she/they rainbow lanyard instigated a few (kindhearted) conversations at work yesterday. One of the more interesting insights is that society is probably used to a non binary gender expression that pushes the boundaries. I am simply too lazy for this.

Well now I am deeply invested in Tony and Hortense.

Ruin is formal —

It is wild to me that King Crimson are still creating music. I came across an old playlist of mine with 21st Century Schizoid Man (prog rock with jazz!) and Elephant Talk. Interesting that I can now feel more complexity in their music. Maddening polyrhythmic arrangements, hints of classical.

The tactile need to work with my hands is either stereotypically lesbian or because I’m descended from carpenters. Either way, tinkering with the spare timber from the shed today and it never ceases to amaze how wood just turns to butter with the right tools. Except pine. Pine wants you to suffer.

When I wrote this a year ago I had no idea how bad things would get. Today, eight years after she left us, I'm trying to follow Ursula's advice: write and worry. Write and act. Worry and keep writing. lithub.com/the-way-of-w...

Not to crow (or squawk) but the number of words I can spell is very large. I’m superfluously literate. However, it is the obligation of every child to better their parent, which is why a child that was a mere tadpole in my womb 65 months ago corrected me on the spelling of squawk.

Body did not respond well to increased load last week. Pain, lots of it. The timeline for recovery of my injuries is 4-6 months, without surgery. I’m seeing an orthopedic surgeon in Feb, so we can tack another 4 mths onto that if they grind out the hip socket and staple me back in. Just…urgh.

My son has a habit of writing page after page of number sequences, a flurry of meaningless code until you discern he’s counted by 12s up to 804. So I spent ages yesterday trying to figure out the sequence for this one. Common ratio? No. Graduating additions? No. Fibonacci? No. Squared? No.

As someone that reads and writes a lot of poetry, the concept of generated material fatigues me. Sure, it might possess the correct rhythmic structure with a modular assembly of words. But good poetry should wound you with how it evokes the human experience.

Susanne Sundfør‘s ‘Slowly’ is utterly delicious to listen to. The gear change from 80s drum synthwave to the epic tempo shift at 2:30, to the ethereal vocal shift at 2:52 that makes you feel like you’ve entered an 80s dark fantasy movie (think basically anything composed by Trevor Jones).

Two lessons from age verification face screening apps - 1. I have a beautiful square head and a beast of a jawline that does not fit inside the lines. 2. Delete my data, I have a pimple today, no one can ever know.

All I want for xmas is for my hip to stay in its socket, and my herniated disc to get snuggled back into my vertebrae, where it’s meant to live. That said, this is the first week in 2 mths that I’ve been able to walk without a limp or awkward gait. Was looking at a sparkly walking cane in earnest

Lost for 6 months His most prized possession A Roamin‘ Numeral

If you buy your wife her favourite tea for Christmas, you also have to brew it for her. There are rules.

Fascinating that if I pose the same game of probability to my children, they will respond differently. The Eldest™️ is very rigid in his thinking. The world must have routine and rules. He loves (and is exceptional) at math, and he’s the reason why I’m on my own later in life math journey.

Reading a circa 2003 math book, and this page struck me. I wrote a big ol’ research paper at law school about expert evidence and the white coat effect on juror conviction rates in criminal trials. I have a soft spot for probability theory, but not in court where people assign high probative values.

Take all of my money. thedesignfiles.net/2025/10/arch...

Currently mostly vibing with woodworking methods, mid-century architecture aesthetic, gardening and math stuff, so that’ll make an appearance. I like pretty things, I’ll reblog them like a magpie collecting shiny things.

Recovering from a serious back and hip injury and finding myself needing a non-Meta outlet for the thinky thoughts. They’ll have to pry the millennial need to blog from my cold, mildly arthritic hands.