Today, I have a track record of 2,500 days of alcohol-free hydration. In May I will celebrate 7 years of sobriety, but since I’m greeted by a day counter whenever I look at my phone, I couldn’t resist a moment of reflection.

2024 was a year of experimentation. I decided to go for the mocktail option during a handful of date nights, and even drank alcohol-free wine at church.

In a moment of company-wide celebration I tasted non-alcoholic champagne. I say tasted, because the moment it hit my tongue I began to understand the weight of a quarter of a percentile.

I made it home after seven nights at the hospital! Staying there between Christmas and New Year’s really wasn’t as horrible as you’d imagine. I figured: if anything happens, I’m already at the hospital, anyway.

Still, I should confess that I was excited to be released from the presence of my hospital neighbor, a dentureless elderly woman with severe bowel problems whose sounds were revolting. If you’re wondering how petty I am for focusing on that instead of my own fracture-related infection, imagine what Anja’s life is like.

I’m surprised we made it through Disclaimer, though that’s not entirely true, because both Anja and I would have a hard time quitting anything that involves the acting of Cate Blanchett. Looking back, I feel our experience was exactly as intended (even though author’s intent may well be the most boring of analytical categories in the study of media.)

The show’s disclaimers, both diegetic and non-diegetic, kept me thinking they’re such pedestrian vehicles for spoiling. “Sometimes, meaning can only be conveyed through the shock of the unexpected”, I thought. Still, throughout the show, the disclaimers made me interpret and reinterpret and misinterpret “depictions of sexual, physical, and emotional violence” in ways I thought I had somehow transcended by now.

The series has left me feeling uncomfortably unsophisticated.

Disclaimer is one of those beautiful examples of a terror that can only be rightly experienced once, upon the first viewing, much like Irréversible and Antichrist. I keep thinking “well, I could’ve done with a bit more foreshadowing and character development around the twist”. In all honestly, though, I say this to myself only to alleviate the discomfort I feel as I imagine myself Sacha Baron Cohen in a hospital chair, guilty and bewildered, hearing perhaps the saddest of realities about myself.

• In the evenings, we’re continue our journey with Better Call Saul (2015-2022). Midway through season 3, it’s finally beginning to get a firm grip on our attention span again. I loved the debut of Gus Fring, the way he lingers in the background, out of focus, voiceless, before landing, so to speak. I find this one of the finest roles in television history.
• Less reading this week.
• Struggling with discernment this week: what do I do when following Jesus when it gets hard interferes with my boundaries and sense of safety
• Beaming at work
• Beaming at home
• Sunday is amazing. First, I meet Kélian for a drink at Bar Bario. I met him at Omek and was inspired by his relationship to money. He gave me great tips and a few resources to boot. I aim to make 2024 the year in which I learn to be more comfortable in my relationship with money.
• Sunday continued at Bar Buka, where I met Erin for a drink. She, in an act of bravery the level of which I will never possess, left her Canta unlocked. I was able to open the door and take out the keys. I admire people who have such faith in the city of Amsterdam and the people who inhabit her.
• Erin and I eventually made it to church, which was surprisingly full. I met Rev. Jacque Williams, who is apparently running a great thing over in the part of the country I tend to avoid.

• This week, I attended my first Gerimedica party. It’s great to know I can expect a big celebration every year, and not just for the company’s sweet sixteen. It confirmed what I already know: great vibe, great taste, great people.
• I went to Bar Bario on Saturday for a meet-up called Hair Haven, which fosters connection between people with curly hair. Again, I was struck by how welcoming the space is. It’s a ridiculous feeling, being the norm there.
• I’m tired these days. Too much fun, too little rest. I’m better at napping, though. On Sunday, I barely wanted to get out of bed after a little snooze. Three years ago, a nap was unthinkable.
• I’m giving Reni Eddo-Lodge‘s Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race another spin. The title alone makes it a hard read, but I’m hoping I’ll find myself along the way.
• I saw Dalva at Ketelhuis. Reading the reviews, I’m surprised so many people seem to interpret the girl’s dress style as “an adult woman in the 50s”. I thought it was reminiscent of the way girls dressed when the camera first came out. Not a girl, not yet a woman. Regardless, I imagine being Dalva’s mother, getting to know her daughter again, and understanding what has gone so wrong in the fibers of het child. It sends chills down my spine.
• In another childhood trauma narrative, I thought it was so moving that Jan Broberg played the therapist in the Showtime series on her turbulent childhood. I fantasized the scenes functioned as a systemic family constellation, her talking to her childhood self. The reality was probably much more technical than that.
• Anja had a very intense and short stint with Call of Duty, remarking on its evocative storytelling in the Cold War portion. She finished it, though, and the zombies turned om her off with such immediacy that she’s back to NBA.
• After hearing it only once, Billie Eilish’s “The 30th” is stuck in my head. She and her brother have a good thing going.

• I got to meet one of my Internet heroes this week: Patrick Rhone and his family were on a Europe trip, and I was lucky enough to catch the planning stage on his blog right in time to extend an invitation. We spent a rainy Monday evening in de Jordaan at Cafe de Tuin, talking ye olde Internet productivity culture, the arts, politics, hopes and dreams, and how his teenage daughter apparently woke up one night singing “raise a glass to freedom”. Fine people, they are.
• After another week with Lemonade, I’m beginning to feel more confident about raising her to be a well-behaved, confident puppy. For the most part, she’s doing very well. The only real challenge we have is the barking to which she’ll resort every time she’s in the crate but not sleeping. Through trial and error, we’re slowly learning how to help her settle down more easily, and this week, the efforts have begun to pay off.
• I’ve got some exciting news forthcoming that isn’t quite ready for the public just yet, but it has managed to lift my spirits greatly. I’ll be able to write more in the next few weeks, but for now it’s safe to say I’m feeling hopeful, inspired, and ready.
• While Anja had apparently been around to watch season one when it was released, I’ve only now turned onto the wonderful journey that is Abbott Elementary. I would never actually ask the universe for a reboot of The Office: US, but this new mockumentary revolving around a poorly-managed, underfunded Philadelphia public school has exactly the vibe I would’ve hoped to get from that nonexistent reboot. It’s just nice that, with this show, Black people are at the front and center.
• Spring has officially begun, but as one of the regulars at my coffee place said: “the question isn’t when spring begins but when rain ends”. It seems the weather’s getting better, though, and I can feel I’m on the cusp of storing away my winter coat. It has been a long time coming.

Liked https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/11/arts/television/brett-goldstein-ted-lasso-hercules.html