Weeknotes: November 10–14, 2025
Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: November 10–14, 2025

Monday, November 10

I'm with Neil at Fox Science Preserve, a former gravel pit in Scio Township known for its geological wonders. Punctuating the scrubby landscape are hulking glacial boulders of granite, tillite, gneiss, and limestone, many of them bearing 350 million-year-old fossils. At work, Neil and I write about rock music, but apparantly he is also a "rock" guy. I've come into rockdom more recently, surprising myself with how much I've enjoyed my Geology of the National Parks and Monuments class at the local community college. The 12 week course ends this week — tomorrow evening I'll take my final exam and test my knowledge of volcanism and continental collisions. 

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Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: October 20–23, 2025

Monday, October 20

Through trial and error, I think I've traced the signal hum to my outboard preamp, a Golden Age Pre-73 MKII. It was recommended to me by Fred Thomas and was integral to my last two albums. Maybe it just needs a new power supply — that would be the best case scenario. More impactful is the loss of my primary condenser mic, an old Studio Projects C1 I bought in 2006 and use for almost everything I make. Like all my gear, it's a budget piece, but it has survived nearly 20 years of abuse and performed beyond all expectations. I'll likely get both items repaired, but I can't afford it right now.

So, with my two workhorses out of commission, I'm left with what I've got. I think of the old adage "the best tool is the one in front of you." I have a handful of other mics, but nothing that really fills the role that the C1 does. I could borrow a decent condenser mic from a friend, but a part of me welcomes the limitations of making do with what's on hand. That’s where creativity starts.

During rush hour, I'm running down a hill toward a busy intersection. There's a car in the northbound lane facing me with its hazard lights on and another in the southbound left turn lane, also stopped. Several people are crouched in the middle of the road picking up some type of debris while evening traffic diverts around them. I assume it's broken glass from a collision, but as I approach, I see the road is scattered with what looks like an entire box of nails. Bending to help, I ask one of the good Samaritans how they got there.

"No idea. I wondered if it was a sabotage campaign from a local tire company," she jokes.

Some of the nail heads have already been driven into the soft asphalt and I have to pry them out with my fingernails. But, just think of all the punctures we're preventing.

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Weeknotes: September 20 – October 3, 2025
Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: September 20 – October 3, 2025

Monday, September 29

I'm in a blue jeans drought. I have a couple pairs I feel okay in, but neither of them is my favorite. When the world is in chaos, you have to have at least one pair of jeans you love.

After work I carve a soap dish from a hunk of cedar fence plank in my shed. I've obsessed over buying a soap dish for weeks, but keep putting it off. I blame the specific dimensions of my sink, but really I'm just indecisive and spend too much time deliberating over small stuff in order to avoid the big stuff. Once again, a bit of DIY effort saves the day.

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Weeknotes: September 22–26, 2025
Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: September 22–26, 2025

Monday, September 22

I'm listening to the Tannahhill Weavers, a Scottish folk band who include a glossary of pronunciations and Scottish words on their lyrics sheets.

Some are logical:

Dinnae = don't know
Gane = gone
Tae - to
Twa = two
Wasnae = was not

Some less so:

Ken = know
Maun = may
Muckle = big
Trews = tartan trousers
Yin = one

I've loved this band since I first heard them on a Rykodisc compilation sometime around 1990. They were my gateway to Celtic music.

Out my office window the ground's quiet applause welcomes rain for the first time in a month. Later, at the pet store, the ceiling has sprung a leak and two dog pools have been pulled off a nearby shelf to catch it. On the equinox the world is liquid again. 

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Weeknotes: August 18–22, 2025
Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: August 18–22, 2025

In my dream I'm a volunteer on a space station. I can't believe I got to go to space for free — I'll be the envy of all my friends. I move to one of the thick glass portholes and look out at the dark expanse. As my eyes adjust I see a large object resembling a human skull, obsidian black and tinted purple and green like the aurora. It's heading toward us and I immediately sense it's an alien spacecraft. I back away from the window and about a minute later feel the impact as it collides with us. 

The next part of the dream is more benevolent, though bittersweet. I'm back on earth, trying to insert a folded wool blanket into a cupboard. My cat Briggs is in there, alive and seemingly in full health, though I somehow know there is a terminal illness within him. I pull him out and try to hold him, but he's not having it. Classic grumpy Briggs. While he lays on the rug cleaning himself, I marvel at his appearance. It's the younger, well-fed Briggs of feline middle age, not the haggard cat of his final days.

I wake with a co-mingling of fear and wistfulness. An alien encounter and a visit from my late cat. What a way to start the week.

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Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Weeknotes: March 4–8, 2024

A couple hours into the workday I pause to add some synth parts to a demo I started recording over the weekend. It was a song idea I got while running and I had to keep singing it to myself until I could get home and could do something about it. This happens to me a lot and I doubt I'm alone. Many of my best creative breakthroughs have come while running or walking. Being ambulatory jiggles the mind in a helpful way and I sometimes feel like I can hold very elaborate concepts in my mind while on foot, but as soon as I'm back home amid familiar sounds, objects, and needs, they quickly dissipate. If what I'm imagining seems particularly exciting or urgent I try to condense it into bullet points as I near my house so I can quickly jot them down as soon as I get inside. It's a debrief that often usurps even the need to drink water.

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Timothy Monger Timothy Monger

Is This Something?

A few years ago I started a side project called Log Variations. It was rooted in an earlier idea involving a stage prop, one of those motorized fireplace sets with a jumble of logs surrounding a molded plastic window behind which an amber light bulb gives off a cozy fire-like glow. It's a piece of kitsch so wonderfully fake it becomes its own unique object. My original concept was to have the "logs" open for some of my solo shows. I would activate the fireplace about for about ten minutes while playing some crackling campfire sound effects interspersed with spontaneous synth stabs and abstract field recordings. In 2021 I revisited those recordings, created a few more, and released them on cassette under the title Log Variations. Then I started an Instagram account devoted to photos of fires, logs, and other log behavior. Next up was a video component of burning logs and their corresponding soundtrack.

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