4.18.2025 - Weekly Digest
Another collage of observations and such.
Sunday's stuff will skew seriouser. And less alliterative.
4.14.2025
I'm watching a guy arrange everything in front of him like if he doesn't get it right the universe will stop, careful and focused like the dad portioning out ketchup to his kids in that Saunders story I tried to teach once: that's enough that's enough that's enough and I wonder if Saunders ever just lets the images and free association flow so the structure comes as an afterthought, like that friend you forgot you invited to your birthday but here she is with a present so hey you might have something in common with these jerks, have a seat here and we'll hope it figures itself out cuz I gotta talk to this idiot over there.
So I tried to teach that story to an ESL advanced reading class and it's only a few hundred words but he describes all these holidays in a sentence or a phrase or less. So when we got to Groundhog's Day I had to explain that to a classroom full of Saudi and Korean and European kids and I tried to draw it on the whiteboard with the sun overhead and the shadow and the little rodent and it all melted down into abject laughter, even the women in the back row whose faces I never saw were shaking with giggles, even the one who complained whenever I tried to play music in class.
*the story is "Sticks" by George Saunders
4.15.2025
My hearing is different here. Scrapes and scuffs on the sidewalks but it's only me. The echo is disorienting and it's not only outside. This morning I heard giggles and a techy spongy noise like a chord that plays when you start up a device. They sounded close but not threatening.
I am interested in the science of auditory hallucination. Or I am curious about learning to echolocate like bats and some blind folks do.
If these sounds are real, the ones in the apartment where I'm staying, then they're coming from any of the three units adjacent to mine, which suggests they can hear me as well, which means they can hear when I talk to the language owl or curse when I burn myself on the convection coffee maker or make any of the other less flattering noises I make.
It's like a sonic version of Bentham's Panopticon. That's a prison where the principle means of behavioral control is inherent in the design. The structure is a column and all the cells face the center. Cuts down on the number of guards or cameras needed to keep the population in line.
There was some talk a while back about how the presence of a camera in everyone's pocket would lead to better behavior by cops and citizens. I'm not sure that's held true. If it is the alternative is a fucking Bosch painting. Turns out some people are into being watched at their worst. Turns out even more don't even care.
4.16.2025
Snow again this morning. Fresh crunchy coat on the hydrant and car and adolescent tree struggling to push its buds out. Were I a lazier man I would find an excuse to stay inside. But there's work to do and an office space I’m paying for and the laundro needs doing. Still: poor show, Montreal. Going in your file.
The poubelle is missing. I put it out with the organic waste two nights ago and it never came back. I don’t know whether to ask the host about it or not. Cultural delicacies to be navigated at every turn. Whither the poubelle!
Downside to learning a language: what used to be background noise is now words and phrases and my dendrites reach out like heliotropic algae toward the sound in an effort to distinguish nouns from verbs. I cannot write with other voices around me. When I jam my ears with wordless music I can remain in stasis for days.
Dreams: I am expected somewhere and I can’t get there. Or I am expected in several places and I've lost my keys or the door code. Or I am the former president, the one most of us like more than other recent presidents, wandering through a neighborhood at night trying not to be noticed. Oh you have to at least let them see you, someone says. They'll be upset if you don't.
4.17.2025
We’re going to be on Jeopardy. Problem is we have to be there in ten minutes and I’m not dressed yet. My sister is a producer on the show so she’ll buy us some time. I keep finding shirts with stains on them, pants that don’t buckle. It’s definitely been ten minutes but she’s not worried. We get there but we’re doing the show from a swimming pool. I’m treading water and trying to answer the clues. Trebek is the host and he is saying filthy lewd and degrading things and everyone is laughing.
2 sentence disappointments: Her eyes followed him across the room. It was an idle fixation reflecting no interest on her part and meant nothing.
The poster above is under a table at the laundromat. This guy, he's a silly guy. You can tell from the look on his face. And, I mean, what kind of road sign is that on his sweater? That's a silly road sign.
This fellow is Yvon Deschamps, an entertainer of legendary status in Quebec. I thought the French translated to something like 'U.S. Let's Go'. I don't know if he's saying Quebec should secede from Canada and join the U.S. or what. It's definitely an older poster and for all I know that was a real sentiment around here at some point. Certainly not a current one. From his expression I don't get the sense that he's serious, whatever he's trying to say. And after some scratching around it turns out the translation is actually 'What's Next for U.S.?'
I wish I knew silly buddy.
Here's the track if you want to figure it out for yourself: