I begin this random post with the idea that by the end it’ll be chaotic, full of random bits of information (mostly useless) but with the hope that one day anyone who finds it has a piece of what June 28th, 2022 was like for me.
To start, I had just watched the amazing and inspiration MichaelSoft Bindbows video by Nick Robinson. It’s a trip and I really don’t want to give the video synapses away as the video is a journey in itself but it’s the outro that brought me to start writing this until my brain feels satisfied.
I don’t know exactly where this post is going to take us but I want some music to go on the journey with us. I already randomly had blank世界’s 居住者の夢 folder open on my computer after spamming my own Discord with a download file of the song 07 – dreaming星の中で for no reason other than to defeat the lack of users who hand out in there.
Funny enough, just as I’ve found the perfect laying position on a couch I am soon donating to the local dump (there’s multiple holes it in, don’t buy from Wayfare after barely 9 months of owning it), my 2017 MacBook Pro has decided to remind me of another journey I had today – taking a bus and walking 20 minutes to BestBuy near Potrero Hill, SF to buy a replacement Nintendo Switch AC adapter. Hold on, let me go unbox it and plug it into the black colored power strip next to the couch so I can really start writing this article without interruption.
My wife and I are in different rooms at the moment, and when I get upset, I like to rewatch random episodes of The Wire. I find a lot of comfort in 2000s Baltimore. So although I am not watching it now, VLC is hovering over all my other windows just waiting on my return. I’ve watched the Wire now probably 20 odd times. I don’t remember if it was in Shenzhen China when I started it or not, but I had watched it so many times in the various apartments I lived in, mainly as an escape of being an expert.
I’ve decided to close VLC for now. McNaulty and his cocky smirk is reminding me that I should probably make up with my wife already. So why are we fighting? I think my father has distilled a lot of almost military-like orders in which I follow my every day life. Do the dishes the instant dinner is over. Clear the counter the instant a mess is mad. Figure a problem out without asking for help, if you can’t figure it out, you don’t deserve to know how to solve it and if you can’t solve it, expect nothing be to be belittled over it. My wife is the complete opposite, she is aloof, in the moment and not very aware of her surroundings. She’s been taking driving lessons at $120 a pop and she’s probably taken 20 classes already, I’m having an aneurism over the fact she can’t figure out how to drive already.
I complain about it again tonight after she returned from her class and I returned home with dumplings to make peace. She doesn’t have the appetite to eat. If my father had brought home food and I said I’m not eating, I’d be dead to him for being selfish. I bit my lip and go to YouTube to drowned my self-hatred for her doing things to me I would never do to my father. and my highlight of my life up until this point is watching a knock off windows meme rabbit-hole, which by the way, god-forbid my father caught me on the internet after a fight. So I stick it to my father by wasting time on the internet and ignoring my wife because I am fucked up in the head with dealing with my emotions. Hold that note….
Now my laptop is connected to the new charger. I find the Nintendo Switch charger does better changing my Mac than my original Apple OEM one. I accidentally broke the original Switch charger that came with my Switch today when my laptop fell off my couch and landed directly on my charging port. USB-C.
Walking to BestBuy should have been a 23 minute walk from my apartment. I took the 22 to the stop near the old Decathlon (which closed earlier this year) near Potrero and walked the rest of the way. My mind had me thinking the store was one direction and after crossing paths with a homeless man screaming his head off, I kind of lost sight of directions and more worrying about my safety. I had probably passed 9 or so tents on the way until I noticed I was near the trader joes, not remotely near BestBuy. I quickly took out my phone, looked at the map and redirected myself the long way to not need to go down that specific street again.
When I’m out in San Francisco, I always walk around with a mean mug and carry myself as a tough guy for no reason other than a defensive mechanism. I’m as thin as a rail, and I’m not the tallest guy, all I have to make me less of a target is walking with a purpose and skater close to look less white tech. I hate having to look angry. My wife always says I’m angry. My father was angry. I need to leave San Francisco. I am, soon. Next month actually. Back to my hometown. Not where I want to live either. It’s not “my home” as my father describes it. I don’t want it to be my home. I don’t want it to be my future kids home. Am I really going give birth to a kid somewhere my parents moved us to because of their own decisions. Yet, it is my decision to move back to my hometown… yet it’s cause of guilt.
Once the kids are old enough, Jen wants the raise the kids in her country. So chances are I’ll be away from my family for a long time. So I am guilting myself into moving home so we can live life together before we move away. I could live in Hawaii or any state, hell any country, yet I’m moving back home. And yet, 1st world problems. A family who loves me and wants to be near me. An asshole son who thinks their kids lives are determined by the location they are born. Eh the album ended…
I’ve been reading a book titled, Calked Boots & Cant Hooks by a Lumberjack of the name George A. Corrigan. The author died 1981, 11 years before I was even born. Hell, he was born before the turn of the century in 1896. Yet, I’m reading a book from a man who lived an entire life before my parents were married. Literature is incredible, and I’ve grown a certain connection to the memories of this man. I have 35 pages left and I can’t find the courage to finish it. I’m worried that once I finish the book his memory will be lost until the next lumberjack enthusiast wants to learn about early 1900s wood copping techniques and culture.
I also worried that since I am about to move, I will drop the idea of the lumberjack novel I had. If I finish the book, I have to write and if I write, I won’t finish before I move and when I move back to my hometown, I won’t want to write about this topic any more. So maybe, if I finish the book after I move, I will have the motivation to wrote the story I have sitting in my head.
Logger, conservationist, author George Corrigan was all of these during a lifetime devoted to improving the lot of the lumberjack and advancing the cause of forestry and conservation. His autobiographical book “Calked Boots and Canthooks” relates his many varied experiences in the timber industry of the Northwoods. He was a respected member of the Forestry Advisory Committee under the former Wisconsin Conservation Commission and was a past-president of the Wisconsin- Michigan Timber Producers Association. After he conceived the idea of a Forest History Association of Wisconsin and became its co-founder it was said of him, “He believed in preserving the past and building for the future.”
WISAF inducted George in October 5, 1990 to the Wisconsin Society of American Foresters
Replaying the album again. I’m enjoying the mood. It’s helping me write.
My wife is moving around in the bedroom and I’m sure she is wonder when I’m coming to bed. It is 10am, she’s probably going to brush her teeth soon. What do I do when she comes out. Yep, she went for the bathroom to brush her teeth.
When my father and I fought, I kept to myself and gave him space. It let me think over why I was put into this position. Moving back home, I worry I won’t have any boundaries to prevent me, at 30, at being at this beck and call. Will he expect me to come over and mow his lawn, will he expect me to come over every weekend, will I ever be able to say no without it ending in a fight? I haven’t lived in my hometown for over 6 years. Yet every time I visit, it’s the same routine, heavily expect me to do things because I am in town and he is helping me out by either giving me a room or inviting me to eat on his dime. Even if I pay, it makes no difference. Damn it.
Interested in lumberjacks? Here’s some links I’m currently reading:
- Pamphlets on Forestry in Michigan (1906)
- Camps and Tramps in the Adirondacks, and Grayling Fishing in Northern Michigan (1882)
- Timber Industry – In The Woods
- Michigan Dogman
Jen went back into the room without saying goodnight. This journey is getting too personal. Let’s look at todays releases. Document June 28th, 2022 with some vaporwave.
TBH, a lot of these artists are new names to me. I haven’t been listening to music a lot lately. I stopped paying for Spotify as a sort of detox. Mainly been on podcasts just to get away from music. Too much music isn’t good for me. Sometimes I need to let myself mellow out talking or just pure silence.
Sadly, a majority of these albums above are not going to exist in about a year. People in Vaporwave seem to love to delete albums and make blog posts like these show “album not found” as an insider joke. Least I’ll have the embedding code that bandcamp generates for us, so the album name and artist won’t be lost even if the music does dissolve.
I should go to bed, too. At least I created something today (outside of work). I own a new charger today. I ate dumplings today. I watched an endless amount of unless YouTube Videos. I need to get better, for the sake of my wife.
No editing was done to this article. Just a mind dump. Sorry.
