𝔧𝔬𝔥𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔢 @johnmars@mastodon.haus

A new game my dogs invented: "take turns digging a hole until the other dog chases you off. Repeat until all paws involved are extremely muddy then sneak back in the house before your nice dad notices and has to spend the morning cleaning all surfaces."

Dude, if stuff smells like white jasmine consider me in.

Keep good backups, folks. We do and I've still spent an entire workday putting everything back together

Baby's first ransomware attack

Genevieve is one of the bad clones

Cherub Rock video on at Planet Fitness. Billy still has hair and I forgot what it looked like

The Crow soundtrack came out 25 years ago, and folks, I'm here to tell you that it still rules

So stoked that in a miraculous twist of fate, I don't have scheduled meetings today

Very cool time of the year coming up when its nice out and I get stoned and watch a lot of baseball

Hey y'all: We need some more toots around here on the local TL is just gonna be me doing quote threads of Italo Calvino

Thus, when traveling in the territory of Ersilia, you come upon the ruins of the abandoned cities, without the walls which do not last, without the bones of the dead which the wind rolls away: spiderwebs of intricate relationships seeking a form.

They rebuild Ersilia elsewhere. They weave a similar pattern of strings which they would like to be more complex and at the same time more regular than the other. Then they abandon it and take themselves and their houses still farther away.

From a mountainside, camping with their household goods, Ersilia’s refugees look at the labyrinth of taut strings and poles that rise in the plain. That is the city of Ersilia still, and they are nothing.

In Ersilia, to establish the relationships that sustain the city’s life, the inhabitants stretch strings from the corners of the houses, white or black or gray or black-and-white according to whether they mark a relationship of blood, of trade, authority, agency. When the strings become so numerous that you can no longer pass among them, the inhabitants leave: the houses are dismantled; only the strings and their supports remain.

This city which cannot be expunged from the mind is like an armature, a honeycomb in whose cells each of us can place the things he wants to remember

You'll see it on mobile too. Apps are unaffected, obvs

I don't think anyone besides me uses the web masto interface, but I did some CSS stuff for the main layout. Let me know if you dig it.

it'll apply to mobile browsers too. Apps are unaffected, obvs

Sometimes when I get overwhelmed, I imagine myself suspended in water but with light shining down from the surface. I thought it might mean I should do one of those float tanks, but I'm probably just disassociating. Anyways, time to read Invisible Cities again.