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JOURNAL

SEPTEMBER 2019





Found my groove yesterday, now I've been editing photos that I should've edited ages ago.



  


Last night's dreams were even more bizarre than usual. Too bad that I can't record them in any way, as their perverse logic defies all attempts at written notes.



  


Modular City series got updated today with new images. It's been slow in progress, but it's getting there.



  


Recent music: Bat For Lashes, Miles Davis, Cigarettes After Sex, GoGo Penguin, and Portico Quartet.



  


More troubleshooting. The more complex these electronic contraptions get, the more bugs they will have.



  


And now that Traveling Wilburys song won’t leave me alone.



  


Everything in its right place.



  


Going through Miles Davis' second great quintet (1964-1968) era albums.



  


Recently, I discovered the term ”joy of missing out”, which describes exactly what I’ve been doing for the last couple of years. I quit most of social media, and every non-essential activity that consumed my time.



  


I haven’t bought vinyl records in over 20 years. I had forgotten entirely how slow it is to find the albums you’re looking for.



  


”Human memory is best understood as processes of reconstruction, rather than one of reproduction.”



  


In last night’s dream, I was hunted down and killed by a leopard. I woke up right before I got eaten alive.



  


After having moved on exclusively to ebooks, my old passion for comic books has been resurrected.



  


The last time I’ve read Stephen King’s ”It” must have been back in the late ’80s, in my teens. Unsurprisingly, I had missed enormous amounts of essential character and story details. This time, there was a veritable cornucopia of ”new” things to digest.



  


Watching a supercut of Black Friday shopping chaos on YouTube. Herds of consumers possessed by greed, running like crazed cattle.



  


Nobody told me that the display screens of retina iMacs are made of fragile glass that does not take kindly to bumps.



  


I’m really looking forward to December, so JJ can let me down again.



  


Marveling at the persistence of expensive SMS based chats on late-night and morning tv channels.



  


When there’s nothing else in the world to be glad about, I rejoice over the fact that I don’t have to return to the bad places I’ve been to in my life.



  


In his infinite ”wisdom”, man is burning down the Amazon. It’s utterly impossible to exaggerate the greed and stupidity of man.



  


Earworm of the day: Tramdriver by Wigwam.



  


And why is everybody acting so surprised that Johnson pisses on democracy?



  


The UK is so thoroughly fucked unless their MPs get their heads out of their arses.



  


Goodbye, and thanks for all the fantastic pictures, Peter.









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