I’m not sure if the driver of this tram is sober. He’s singing all the station names.
Friday: Done shopping, nothing needed for the weekend!
Saturday morning: Toothpaste is empty.
The struggle is real.
It is no big surprise that in a year in which William Gibson published a new book, that book would end up as my favourite book of the year. The Peripheral was everything I wanted from a book that tells Science Fiction from the future instead of the present.
While it has certainly improved in the last couple of weeks, I still don’t read nearly as much as I used to – at least books. In aggregate, with all the internet and some random magazines thrown in, I am sure I am reading more than ever before.
Now on to Seveneves.
Warm summer nights are my favourite time of day and year.
No matter where I am – geographical and metaphorically – it always seemed a good idea to sit somewhere outside on a warm night, looking at lights in the distance and listen to the sounds of the night.
Cicadas, a train, music from somewhere, sometimes the ocean, sometimes the bustle of a city that is still active – there is a magic to these moments that removes me from whatever is happening in my life and puts me in a weird mood – wistful and euphoric at the same time.
Favourite book? Tomorrow.
The new Apple Music started today. I listened to the first two hours of the radio station, seems like this fellow from New Zealand did a pretty good job. I’ll give it a listen or two during the trial period but I doubt I’ll switch over from Spotify – at least unless the Sonos integration is working. Then we’ll see.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you what my favourite book of the last year was – I actually had to look through my Amazon history to see which books I read last year, but I found a pretty clear and not very surprising winner.
I have completely no idea how I should be able to write a hundred of these. We are at thirty now and I am drawing a complete blank.
In fact, I am writing this a day late. I stared at the empty Byword document all day yesterday. Nothing.
Is there something like written small-talk? The weather is nice. Sunny. Apparently some kind of sportsball is happening? And no, I won’t discuss politics or religion (or text editors) with you. Not because I don’t have an opinion, but I don’t need to hear your crazy ideas. I mean – chemtrails? Really?
I find myself in the not very enviable position in which I need a new bag.
A proper man purse. It should be big enough for maybe a thick A4 magazine, my iPad and, ugh, yes, the battery pack for my iPhone.
I do have a good backpack for when I want to bring my computer, but that doesn’t happen all the time and then it is too big.
Given that so many people in my peer group – and if you read this, I consider you a peer – are bag nerds, I am sure I will get some good advice.
This is the time of day when I am in bed already, just about to fall asleep, when it suddenly hits me that I decided to write every day.
Usually I get up again, walk over to my computer and write properly with a keyboard. Tonight I just could not be bothered – after all, apparently people write whole articles and emails on their phones. I am probably more surprised than you are by how little I enjoy typing on the phone. I often assumed I would not even really need a proped desktop computer anymore for many short written things.
Probably my favorite commercial ever is this one from Swiss.
At some point the co-pilot says that it’s possible to see Malaga on your left. Now I wonder which Swiss flight it might have been with Malaga to ones side.
Yes, these are the things I sometimes think about. I have my deep moments, full of profound insights.
Maybe I should fly to Malaga some time.
And maybe the next time I fly Swiss I should have a Campari Soda. I completely neglected to do that the last time.
Not that Swiss is flying from around here anymore, though.