A terrible photo and an interesting thing daily
Jan. 1, 2024, Mon.— Walnut shell, sculpted by squirrel tooth near the University of Rochester
I listened to a This American Life rerun, a series of vingettes, the last being a tear jerker—teens in juvie apologizing to their moms. My friend had heard it before, “I was actually thinking, ‘those damn kids aren’t going to change.'”
Jan. 2, 2024, Tues.— Week 3 of weights! 44 lb. squats, 15 lb. straight presses, a ton for scrawny moi.
Jan. 3, 2024, Wed.— “Droplets are so rad”
A co-worker and his wife have 12 scarlet macaws, which they’ve lovingly tended in pallet-sized cages in their living room for 26 years. Bird food costs $45 a week, and said flock is quite vociferous.
Jan. 4, 2024, Thurs.— Ducks near U of R
I’m a worry wart re: how I come across, so I appreciated this (James Clear’s newsletter)
“Don’t worry about being the most interesting person in the room, just try to be the most interested person.”
☸ asks about others (people like to talk about themselves)
☸ genuinely curious about someone’s craft (learns a lot)
☸ engages with more people and—because opportunities come through people—is more likely to catch a lucky break (well-learned and well-liked)
Jan. 5, 2024, Fri.— Wintry plant, Highland Park
According to Facebook memories, I do something meaningful or unusual on Epiphany?
We launched a sketch team a millennium ago, and once I impulsively walked into an Episcopal service on Park Avenue South, and drank hot spiked cider. Holy zow!
This year, a Rochester friend urged me to try improv. Though, I did do a whole hour of yoga—extra-ordinary for me.
Jan. 6, 2024, Sat.— “Get back here and let me sit on your legs.”
Why do I go to write a second draft of something funny, and find it carefully desiccated of all joy? What if I wrote one draft with the aim, “What ridiculous shit would I add if this was just for me?”
Jan. 7, 2024, Sun.— First try.
Second try.
“Why is—snow?” A very short walk.
Jan. 8, 2024, Mon.— Rachel’s home from visiting family! A high five from a long scampered-off raccoon from our reunion walk by the Genesee. (Her sharp hawk eyes spotted this.)
Jan. 9, 2024, Tues.— Billboard on way back from hand OT
ROCOVP is a local push to encourage big cats to be smarter.
Jan. 10, 2024, Wed.— Light Duty Adventures Pt. 1 (I’ve been pulling out plastic wrap, cardboard and shipping straps): Impersonating a cassette tape to text to a friend.
Jan. 10, 2024, Wed.— Light Duty Adventures, Pt. 2: I like to stand by this entrance for a few minutes to break up my day, and suspected this fiddle-leaf fig maybe needed water.
Jan. 11, 2024, Thurs.— Light Duty Adventures, Pt. 3: I am useful.
Also, why? “Fiddle-leaf fig trees don’t like: drafts, soil that is too wet, soil that is too dry, too much sun, not enough sun, dry air, or loud music.” Gardenista
Jan. 13, 2024, Sat.— We’ve got a list of what needs fixed first, but in the meantime—
Rachel chose three library books for me as a surprise, and one was Edward Gorey’s Amphigorey. 🖤
Jan. 14, 2024, Sun.— Starting work later has its privileges; like, sunlight.
Cleaning the break room since that guy is off Sundays. Nose shadows from icy windows, but I have a cold, so it tracks.
Jan. 15, 2024, Mon.— Names on the sanitation lockers
I’m also trying to not eat from the vending machines (Ruffles cheddar) or Five Guys (small fries on the fly) every day. I snack like a Labrador with hands and a credit card.
(OOo. No vending machines or rando fast food for a month, as of Feb. 14.)
Jan. 16, 2024, Tues.— New Bethel Christian Methodist Episcopal Church on the way back from hand OT
My great occupational therapist said that on the first date with her boyfriend, they realized they both rode unicycles.
Jan. 17, 2024, Weds.— Sun on the barrel!? Also, I want to believe:
“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed.”
—Ethnobotanist and mystic Terence McKenna, Unfolding the Stone, James Clear
Jan. 18, 2024, Thurs.— And, Houston, we have o-u-t-s-i-d-e.
Jan. 19, 2024, Fri.— I dropped Rachel off at the first day of her second round of clinicals, and walked in Mt. Hope Cemetery until our R Center opened for weights.
Pink cheeks
Jan. 20, 2024, Sat.— Mood. Rachel ran eight miles in the perpetual flurries. Kitty and I stayed in and made art.
I liked this from Jake Parker‘s newsletter:
“Each time you create is a role of the dice. The only thing you can control is how many times you roll the dice.
It’s not up to me if something I do is successful, but it is up to me to show up every day, create something, and share it. And guess what, a few times over these last several years I actually got lucky.”
Jan. 21, 2024, Sun.— Ladies, get yourselves one of these. ❤️ Rachel shoveling the walk and brushing off the car before taking me to work.
Our snow den
Jan. 22, 2024, Mon.— Tisha went home sick yesterday, so I sent a get well text. I also told her I was the last person in the warehouse Sunday (except for a team leader), as our collective fear is getting left behind. Pictured: actual paranormal phenomena. She seemed terrified and amused, but it may have been the Robitussin and Beam.
Jan. 23, 2024, Tues.— I have no motivation, and everything I do is dumb. This bright farm was fun, though. Also, off light duty. Back to heavy! 🙏
Jan. 24, 2024, Wed.— We got home with John’s Tex Mex at 5:30, and kitty was beside himself. Where was dinner?! He wolfed his food, darted all over the house, and lay on a coat.
I kissed him and smelled—coffee? I had spilled on his head this morning. It did make goats “peppy.” (Pictured, my sloshy mug.)
I also woke up at like 1 am chewing my mouth guard.
Jan. 25, 2024, Thurs.— I almost guessed my OT’s birthday on the third try (Jan. 31 vs. 3) to her delight and mystification. She rewarded me with an “all clear.”
Our warehouse manager held an open-door day, and we ended up reminiscing about the service industry.
At one place, waiters would reach into a bin of French fries awaiting plates. A cook took elaborate pains to batter and fry receipt paper to watch them eat it all night long.
I told him about how I asked Eric (in the weeds) on the counter once for Sweet N Low, and he screamed, “F*** you, Sara!” Jon loomed behind him and calmly gazed, nodded, to hilarious effect.
I feel like my whole story, though, was me saying, “Fuck you!” in front of the regional boss. But that’s warehouse talk, buddy.
Jan. 26, 2024, Fri.— Rain > snow
A lady at the R Center said she coaches youth gymnastics, and tripped on a mat at a meet this week. She was okay, except for falling in front of a crowd. The announcer said, “Perfect 10!”
Also, I need to start writing by 4. I’m waking up to scroll Tumblr? Every minute I’m not drawing and writing, someone else is drawing and writing to kick my ass. Ha ha JK
Jan. 27, 2024, Sat.— Maira Kalman’s “Uncertainty,” which inspired me to paint a possum.
Rachel pointed out that this month I’ve drawn 1. a comic for my newsletter and, 2. my “Hourly Comic Day” comic. Nice, but I’m adroitly avoiding my real goals. I like the idea of the “everyday risk” and wonder, what if I took a daily risk in the direction of (toward the achievement of) those goals? To chase them beyond my comforts.
Two of these babes near our yard (“Little King Tickmouth” and friend)
Jan. 28, 2024, Sun.— I have a poet friend on Facebook, Bill Burns, who posted, “Do not allow your mythology to become static/ To become frozen, and die”
That part.
Jan. 29, 2024, Mon.—Someone in our yard, lunching on nuts. I got back on the load line today, but with lightning-quick Nick.
I record an interesting thing a day, but not necessarily ever a funny thing. Is that weird for someone trying to write humor?
Jan. 30, 2024, Tues.—The black cat crinkling paper, or just after
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
— “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” Wallace Stevens
Jan. 31, 2024, Wed.— Drawing. With. Cats.