After having set up my content management system around an Obsidian vault through which I publish content at a fixed daily time, I’m reverting back to iOS shortcuts. It’s more fun to publish immediately; it helps me capture the small things more easily.

My coworker Mattia is a gem; a man of deep thought and good ideas. He asked me today if I knew of any writing on the topic of language learning and inclusion.

The surfer, she tells me she met a woman at a 40s singles mixer. The type of woman who reschedules her flight home to Colorado so that they can have sushi in California. There’s a sweetness to tales of the dating world when I’m in a monogamous relationship. I feel only a little bad about appropriating them to satisfy something which I can’t put into words.

After adding myself to App Defaults I took the liberty of importing the available list of RSS feeds into my reader. It was a mistake. I spent the weekend pruning my subscriptions, hoping I won’t be presented with 200+ updates a day in the form of micro blog content. A few of the new feeds immediately struck my fancy, though, among which was Mandaris Moore, one of the few Black people I’ve come across on the IndieWeb. It’s always good to see the African diaspora represented somewhere.

“Just about any app can read it, a year and a decade from now, I’m sure, and then some. That’s more than you can say about diary apps and services, they could suddenly disappear, like the Ello social network did.”

Look at that, I had completely forgotten about Ello, but I felt its obscure echo when I read about Daft Social last week.

Enjoying a cozy Sunday indoors with Lemonade. We took a long walk in the park, where we met Sammie, Maat, and Hovis and Norman. I can tell she’s becoming a little less responsive to my cues, which tells me she’ll be going into heat soon. I’m meeting Erin before Church. I gave myself a nice two-strand twist for the first time. Life is good.

For years, years I tell ya, I’ve been telling myself I need to write better week notes. “Better” refers to their frequency and to a lesser extent to their content. I never seemed to have found the pace to spend my Sunday afternoons sipping tea and reflecting on the week gone by.