On Politics--A Coffee Fueled Rant

Care should be taken when thinking about something if the idea of opposites becomes part of the argument. For example, the belief that liberals are the opposite of conservatives will surely take you down the wrong path. Just because it’s not true. Not only that, it’s pretty much never true. 

Consider that hot and cold are considered opposites, but how could you say 32 degrees is the opposite of 105 degrees? For on a scale that goes from the freezing point of water to the temperature of the surface of the sun, say, the range from 32 degrees to 105 degrees is but a very tiny segment of the range of all possible temperatures. 

 Let’s do I.Q.s. What is the opposite of “intelligent?” Well, that kind of depends on where you are on that scale. (I’ve said this before.) On a scale of 1-100, where a rock is 1 and God is 100, where is Albert Einstein? Where is Lennie in Of Mice and Men? Is it possible that Einstein is a 37.3, and Lennie and 37.1? Where are you? 

 And in the midst of all this, we are “divisive” and “polarized” because we have Republicans on one side, and Democrats on the other. Conservatives here, and then Liberals over here. The Rabid Right and the Looney Left. But these two ideologies are not opposites. Not if you consider what the actual range of governing ideologies of human societies is. You might come closer if you name Attila the Hun and, say, Denmark. Just guessing, here. 

 We need to knock this off and figure out what needs to be done here.

Instagram Philosophy

The CEO of Instagram recently announced that IG will no longer be a photography, or "still picture" forum. They mainly want videos and "stories," he said. This of course is because that's what interests the demographic they are trying to woo. It is not what I want to do, and not what I want to look at. It's not why I'm there. I'm not really interested in being a "creator" or an "influencer," for that matter, either.

I'll skip the tirade about what photography is and why we do it. I'll say that IG, in it's old, original form, was an interesting, quaint way to share casual pics of interesting things of beauty we might have stumbled across, or to reveal details of each of our own particular environments. And the mostly imposed square format we had to work with was a fun challenge to compositions. And of course we could be forgiven for the occasional selfie or cat pic. 

As I navigated around IG's account settings in search of a way to download all my pictures in preparation for deleting my account, should my disgruntlement reach that tripping point, I discovered the database that IG has on me--it is for targeting ads--and it consists of pretty much every google search I've ever made. I don't know how they got it, but it's just another reminder that most of these platforms are massive, offensive invasions of privacy. That might be something I would readily accept if only Instagram were more fun. But it's not, so I don't. 

The Cafe

 How to describe E_______ Cafe? That's tough, for me, because I've been there too many times. It sits off the street in an area that used to be a vital little stretch of stores long since gone out of business and re-opened lately in the form of little art studios and a puppet museum, a Mexican restaurant, and a hair salon, maybe some others. 

E_______ Cafe has been there probably throughout all of this from the very beginning. A one story building in an L shape, with long windows and neon signs identifying the cafe and declaring it "open." There are a couple of entrances. It's not shiny clean inside, but just clean. The tables, the floor, the acoustic tile ceiling, the counter, the little kiosk where the cash register is, they're all old but serviceable. The food is good, if not healthy, strictly speaking. Gravy is involved. The pancakes are huge and hang over the edges of the plates they're served on. This is the Midwest. 

The waitresses don't wear uniforms--they wear jeans and tops beneath a variety of hair-dos. The customers are mostly regulars, and there's a lot of them. They talk across tables at people they know. Old couples, some with walkers, but most not. Men who work outside and are on break, or who stopped for breakfast on their way to the first job. Sometimes small families with kids. Everyone's wearing jeans. If it's winter, the men are also wearing flannel shirts and canvas Carhart jackets, probably, and give-away logo ball caps. These, the caps, stay on, walking in, seated, eating, talking.  In warmer weather it's T-shirts, some with messages printed across them. Don't read them. 

On the way in, you see a coffee can set on the sidewalk by the door with cigarette butts in it. Inside, in the men's room, at least, someone thought it appropriate to hang a "no smoking" sign. 

And the prices are reasonably low, the service impeccable if not elegant, and the food really is pretty good. Eventually, if you visit often enough, the waitresses know you and say hi when you walk through the door, and usually bring coffee the way you like it without first asking. 

Instagram

I enjoy my Instagram account for a couple of reasons: 1.) I get to post pictures of mine that I like, and b.) I get to look at others' pictures that I like. The genre, the nature of the pictures has evolved over time. I mean, I didn't realize it until a few days ago that I've been posting stuff here, I mean I.G., for years. 

Mine aren't particularly inspiring. I might take a picture of something odd, like a sparkly little girl's shoe perched all alone on top of a fire hydrant--I like the idea of a story or a mystery behind the picture. Sunsets which almost always fail to invoke the feeling of the original real one that took place in front of the lens. I post them anyway. Sometimes I take a picture with no particular meaning or content to it except I liked the shapes in it. I try to put hashtags on everything I post, but sometimes I just fail to, knowing that almost no one will see them. I don't really care. Too much, anyway. 

Here are some but not all of the types of pictures that I have to say I don't like, or at least that I think are over-represented:

Overly photoshopped, fantastical pictures, including those created with the use of high-dynamic-range processing that NEVER looks natural even though they are, I fear, intended to. A bicycle posing in front of a scenic view. Food, unless I'm really hungry at the moment. Decrepit buildings. Girls of some indeterminate age posing with lips pouting while wearing something vaguely, but definitely not legally defined as, pornographic, and girls wearing same while posing in front of decrepit buildings. Doorways/entrances of said buildings. Most sunsets, as mentioned above. The moon all by itself. I mean, what's the point? Fake moons photoshopped onto other scenes, especially when the fake moon is way too fucking big. C'mon! Knock it off. 

Special mention to video clips that are too long, where the intended "punch line," if you will, is the last two seconds of the video. I bring up video clips because I noticed, just today, that there is, (or perhaps has always been) a new thing. Short video clips with audio depicting just one small, pleasant moment. Three seconds of the sound of a bird chirping while showing a tree branch moving in the wind (assuming sound quality and visual composition is good/interesting.) I just saw one of a foggy street at night, a person and their dog crossing the street while a lighthouse swept its spotlight around one time, and the sound of a foghorn. Short and sweet, like a pleasant memory of something that, for some reason, just stuck with you. I really like these. It's like adding just a little more dimension (of sight and sound, as Rod Serling would say as he introduced that evenings Twilight Zone episode,) to the typical IG post. 

I don't mean this to be an ad for my Instagram account. I'm rdegr, but don't go looking if your domino set needs dusting or anything of equal or greater importance. 

Foghorn/lighthouse IG post I'm talking about: https://www.instagram.com/p/CW2YdIFq3el/

Well, OK, Then

 I think I said somewhere that I would post my progress on NaNoWriMo. So here it is, almost the end of November, and it was a dismal failure. I take full responsibility, of course. I can say I did some writing and figured a few things out, etc., but, bottom line, dismal failure. 

That's OK. 

I can throw up a defense. We got involved in selling our house and in finding the apartment we wanted downtown. I'm very happy about that. It wasn't so much the time that took, but the mental diversion, the distraction, that affected Nanowrimo so much. Negatively impacted, for those of you who work at big corporations. 

Thanksgiving was good. Had turkey, prepared and cooked by the good people at Brio Italian restaurant at the Country Club Plaza in Kansas City. The chef threw in a piece of what I guess could be called pumpkin spice cheesecake. Somehow, and I'm no cook, but they managed to put three pounds of sugar into a one pound piece of cheesecake. Mmm. Bent the needle on the carb-o-meter. 

Nah, I'm doing OK.  After being prescribed some evil medication that causes the pancreas to produce insulin, and taking it for a month or two and then gaining a bunch of weight, because that's what that does, and then stopping taking it on my own, I have lost the weight and am now back down to where I was and I feel pretty good. I'm a little pissed that my doctor just mailed me the prescription with my HbA1c test results with no explanation of either the need for it or its possible side-effects. 

So, I am thankful that my illness is not so advanced nor severe that I can't get away with this, that I am holding my own, and I could get a new doctor and all that. I'm getting a little disenchanted with "modern medicine" where, it seems, so much of the time the cure is just as bad as the disease. 

I shouldn't bitch, but, damn. 

I hope a-aaalll of you out there had a good Thanksgiving. 

Nano Cont.

 Day 6 of the festivities is about over. I'm far short of where I ought to be on the word count (7,813 when I should be at 10,000) but I have to admit I've made a great deal of progress on the WIP. There is something to be said for typing mindlessly as fast as you can. 

That's not exactly how I've been doing this, but, close. The impulse to stop and edit is hard to resist, but in this context only hampers progress. Hardest are the times when you realize that to go forward, changing something two or three pages back is necessary. Now, if that was written on a previous day, apparently it's impossible to alter the word count on the progress report for the Nanowrimo web site. So, there's another one of those things that doesn't quite work, but it shouldn't bother you unless things like that bother you. 

Earlier today I rectified all that and just figured the total and assigned all that to the first five days. Which means two things.  I see that I'm about 2,000 words behind for today, which, technically, I haven't started on yet, according to Nanowrimo. I guess I don't really care, but I like for these things to be tidy.  Else, why bother? 

So why am I writing a blog post instead of working on the November novel? Because I haven't the slightest idea where the story goes from this point forward. Something's got to happen about now--I've pretty much introduced all the characters, laid out the premise, etc., and now, something's got to happen. 

OK. That's all for now. 

NaNoWriMo - the Accounting

 Disclaimer: this post may seem disjointed, because I am also trying to watch the World Series. Not that I have the slightest idea who to root for. I find the "Braves" moniker and the "Indian chanting" and the ridiculous tomahawk chop exhibited by the fans to be deeply offensive. I also think the decision of Major League Baseball to "excuse" the previous behavior of the Astros (cheating: pitching signal stealing) to be a bad one, and hurtful to the MLB in the long run. As always, I couldn't say what I would have done here had it been up to me. But I love watching  baseball, so here I am watching Houston in the clutch with their 2 - 3 standing so far. At least the next two games (?) will be in Houston and there won't be too much of that stupid fake Indian chant. 

So. National Novel Writing Month is upon us. I have tried and failed a couple times, and demured and whined and obfuscated on others. This time seems different; I have nothing else in particular to do this month--that's a first--and for some reason it feels like a good idea. Other bloggers have indicated posting updates on my blog will help with accountability, and that sounds right. So I'll do it. 

Today is Day Two. Yesterday, Day One, I wrote 1,896 words. Today, Day Two, I wrote 2,141 words. 

The end goal is to write 50,000 words in the month of November, so and average daily count of 1,666.7 words must be met. 

If it's within my scant computing capabilities to do so, I may put up some sort of chart with this developing data over in the right column. As always, keep expectations low.