Weeknotes: September 28–October 2, 2026
Monday, September 28
Tossing and turning in the pre-dawn hush, I vow to manufacture at least one spontaneous moment in the day ahead. By 5 p.m., I have little to show — it's been a routine, though not unpleasant day.
About a half hour before my online history class starts, I decide to build a bonfire in my backyard. I sit on my wooden bench with a glass of wine and log in to the lecture. My profile photo smiles back at me from the Zoom gallery while the professor unpacks the events leading up to the Revolutionary War. I stare into the embers and lose the thread. When I come to, I hear her quip "when times get tough, the tough build a fort." I built a fort to help me get through this lecture.
Weeknotes: November 18–22, 2024
Monday, November 18
It's mid-afternoon and I'm standing at the end of my block with Islay who is examining a hedge. Across the street a band loads out of an upstairs apartment. The first guy has a freshly-sculpted mohawk and a guitar case and is followed single file by two mismatched bandmates with amps and drum gear.
At work we are assembling our year-end lists, both for the company and as individual editors. I have some focused listening to do. At dusk I head out on foot and find myself wandering though Highland Cemetery, listening to Arooj Aftab's Night Reign on my headphones. It's a good cemetery album, more seductive than spooky. As night falls, I see a woman walking a dog in my direction down the dark wooded lane and turn around so as not to scare her. On my way out I pause at the gate which is eerily lit by a high purple streetlight. Now I'm listening to the Shovel Dance Collective, a U.K. folk group who sound a bit like Ireland's Lankum. Their slow, brooding version of the old maritime ballad "The Merry Golden Tree" is a bit of a masterpiece. I love these new dark trad bands.