2024-11-14-21:22:02-Thursday-6
~inquiry
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### 2024-11-14-21:22:02-Thursday-6

I was in my hometown for 90 minutes to so, today.

It was a restaurant that was an "IHOP" back in the day.

I returned there for a while after a failed marriage. Much had
changed, and that change has morphed into even more change.

But despite being familiar with that pre-morphed change, the scenes
that return to me when I look at various locations continues to be
those of childhood.

For example, McDonald's still exists at the location it was when I
was a child. But when first glance there, I see the building style
there in childhood.

And so on.

And, of course, I don't want that to ever change.

And yet it's not something I can share with anyone.

Sure, I could discuss it with contemporaries.

But it turns out that others more often than not don't remember it
as it was.

I mean as I remember it.

Same places, different movies.

Different observers.

Which thought makes communicating with others all but utterly
useless, for why bother when there couldn't possibly be shared
meaning? Just shared symbols with referents as many as
observers/rememberers thereof.

Insanity....

### 2024-11-14-20:47:51-Thursday-5

And then "just like that" it all feels as over as it suddenly felt
as though the online world were *finally* just getting going.

There's nothing worse relative to online than one's own hope.

It's like this:

```
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```

i.e. dashed.

But, of course, nothing was dashed by thoughts elevated to
irrational expectation, with a whiff of commitment to feeling lousy
should hope not pan out.

Silly, silly, and more silly.

### 2024-11-14-20:19:26-Thursday-4

The time has come to consider the inflammatory properties of food
again. My upper left ass issue defies being the result of
over-using it. That may have played a role in the past, but the
persistence seems odd, and not connected to doing anything in
particular day-to-day. Sitting does seem to be the worst thing for
it. But other things I'm feeling physically have a loose sense of
"inflamed" to them, so... and I've been there before, and vaguely
remember some food changes making a difference.

Hopes are high, as the next week will be physically trying, and our
performance schedule shows no sign of slowing.

### 2024-11-14-15:52:20-Thursday-3

Home again, naturally.

Just blew a bunch of time adding a doorknob and deadbolt to a storm
door. Since they came separately, of *course* neither had the right
set of screws to make it work, and of *course* I threw a way a
bunch of knobs/deadbolts a couple months ago because I'd been
carting them around for half of forever, some with missing keys,
but I couldn't see ever using them again being banged up, with
paint on some, etc.

But I'm certain I could have found the perfect screw needed in one
of them. Ugh.

Then, of *course* the dead bolt doesn't align wells with the
openings for it in the storm door frame. It's close. But the only
way I can lock it is while leaning into the door from the outside
while turning the key. Can't do that from inside, which is from
where we'd most want to lock the deadbolt.

So... I'll have to dig around for the right saw and bit to try to
remove a bit of metal from that opening. A file might work, but
only if I completely removed the door to remove part of the frame,
which isn't an option.

Another option might be a circular shim of sorts to offset where
the deadbolt assembly rests in the door such that the bolt makes it
inside the proper opening. I'm starting to think that would be
easiest, assuming such a thingie either exists, or is easy to make
from, say some decent thin/strong cardboard.

### 2024-11-14-07:59:05-Thursday-2

I'm not sure I slept more after returning to bed to attempt to wait
out my wife's slumber. I vaguely remember trying, which for me as
come to consist to watching patiently for varieties of hues of
green and yellow supplanting each other in my eye-closed field of
vision.

But I do feel a whole heck of a lot better now than earlier.

I'm starting to think my upper ass woe is mostly a matter of
perpetual tension, as though bracing for/against something, which
of course is almost always of the category of phantasm.

The woman of the house just coughed downstairs, and I think I heard
my dad's voice as well. I hesitate to engage, as the both of them
rather bore me. What's a psychopath to do with normal, regular,
everyday people of creed and practices perfected?

### 2024-11-14-06:38:41-Thursday-1

Rough night of attempting to sleep in an uncomfortable bed in a
fadingly familiar house where my dad lives with the woman who
replaced my far too soon life-departed mom.

She's decent and means well, but.

Yes: but.

Anyway, my back (upper left ass cheek, really) is going through
something malevolent that I'm pretty sure it has before, only it
was long enough ago that I don't remember what fixed it. Probably
time. But you know how we like to take credit for applying this,
swallowing that, giving up varieties of whatever's for seasons -
generally all rooted in rumor.

(E.g. "Psst! Didja hear that fresh dog shit rubbed in a carefully
tight counter-clockwise spiral has been curing your ail for
generations?")

The internet is nothing if not a murmur-powered rumor machine!

(Murmur as an energy source? Holy endless supply, Batman!)

Anyway, wife still sleeping, me torturing that upper ass area by
sitting it in an ancient hard wood rocking chair. The pillow I
placed between my back and that wood has shifted from comfortably
useful to a position of delivering well-deserved mockery.

Once she's up, we'll tip-toe through the tulips of preparing to
depart - hopefully in a way in support of enjoying the chance to
say our goodbyes. We're here because my brother and I surprised dad
with our presence in a restaurant last night in honor of dad's <big
number>th birthday, which venue was a nearly three hour drive from
where my wife and I wish we could permanently barricade ourselves.

(Well... not her, really - her home-bodying skills trembling in the
presence of mine....)