Hello, darkness, my old friend. Once more we stumbled back into Standard Time this weekend, with all the attendant crises that entails for humans and capreolinae. There was a whole graphics-heavy thing in the Post that “well actually"ed us about how Daylight Saving Time is bad for us, and that Standard Time is healthful. While I certainly agree that changing everything twice a year is about the worst possible solution, you can’t just ignore the widespread mental health trauma inflicted by the sun going down at 4:30. Any argument that starts with “but you get more light in the morning!” will not land well with those of us who start work before sunrise regardless. I don’t think we have the political will to eliminate this foolishness; we can’t agree on anything more controversial than naming post offices right now. But if we’re going to eliminate these shifts and stick with one, it’s Standard Time that has to go, not Daylight Saving Time.1
Many people predicted that Elon Musk was going to ruin Twitter after acquiring it, but even his most ardent detractors (like me) couldn’t have imagined it would happen this quickly or spectacularly. His cockamamie scheme to raise revenue by getting people to pay for the “blue check” is laughable on its face—he’d need to sign up 10 million users for this service just to cover the interest on the debt the company incurred in the deal. Advertisers can’t find the doors fast enough, and who can blame them? He whacked entire departments that are involved in content moderation, and nobody outside of the My Pillow guy wants their ads to appear alongside white supremacist garbage. Which has shot up sharply this week. I’m of two minds about it. My giddiness at him setting tens of billions of dollars of his own money on fire is tempered dramatically by the impending loss of this resource which, while flawed, remains the best source I know of for breaking news. And this is to say nothing of the human cost of all the people who lost their jobs this week, and will continue to as he flounders and triples down on his own idiocy, desperately clawing around for someone else to blame.
I’m batting something less than 1.000 on getting these out on Friday, aren’t I. Work got in the way this week, and then a really odd bout of vertigo yesterday. (Better now, thanks.) Plus a power outage. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts!
I’m considering doing some painting. Not, like, the walls, but the things you hang on them.2 I’ve never had a single moment’s formal training in art. The last time I studied it at all was eighth grade art class, and I was really, really bad. Who gets a C in middle school art class? I’ve been googling, and I have ideas, and, you know, who cares, I can do what I want, we’re all gonna die, entropy, whatever. I’m the kind of tinkerer who needs to see and touch the media and tools I’ll use for my projects before I buy them. So recently I screwed up my courage and walked into one of the big art supply stores in the city. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more intimidated. I wandered the aisles for a bit, just so I wouldn’t look like an idiot scurrying out of there in terror 20 seconds after I walked in, but eventually I bailed empty handed. All those things were confusing, expensive, and probably not what I needed anyway. I can order it all online, but that’s rough when you really have no idea what’s what. On a whim, I decided to visit a smaller, local art store, Starvin’ Artist. And the woman who works there could not have been more welcoming, friendly, or helpful. I still only bought some paper, and blanched when she started asking me questions about what I am working on. I don’t know! This is scary! Why can’t you be like Amazon and never talk to me at all! Anyway, as I get deeper into the process, at least that’s a place I can go that isn’t as terrifying as the big, famous store. Odds are good I’ll share the work here. If it’s good.
I teased it last week, and now I can recap it: our annual Halloween gig was an unmitigated success. There were some tense moments leading up to it. My bandmates are my brothers, and among the things that implies is that we will sometimes fight like brothers do. It can get ugly. But compromises were made, hurt feelings assuaged, and in the end, hopefully, everyone will forget how the sausage got made. The atmosphere at Beat Kitchen absolutely crackled, and every one of the bands playing brought their A+ game. It was an honor for us to hold the headliner’s spot this year for the first time, though that also came with a fair amount of pressure to perform. Judge for yourself with this terrific video that Tony assembled from various phone captures, along with a high-quality audio mix. I think we acquitted ourselves in high style, and I’m already looking forward to next year.