subspaceinterferents

Daily.

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I like to use the VR app, Wander. Wandering all around the world in virtual reality using Google Street view. I keep the verbal “call and response” version of the ChatGPT app on my phone close by. As I wander around the planet, I ask the bot questions, really obscure ones, about all the weird stuff I see. It’s like having a deeply nuanced travel companion with a deep book on tons of minutia. It makes the obscure become visible. And it’s a lot of fun…

Stab stab stabby stab stability stab.

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension—a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas.

Resist as much as possible without getting killed. BTW, I’m an Old-White-Guy Boomer. Not all people in my generation are lining up to kiss Trump’s ass…

Graduated high school in 1975. BTW my niece has a Camden and a Corbin. My daughter is named Chelsea.

Guess when I was born… Went to school with James, William, Dan, John, Joseph, David, Elizabeth, Lisa, Margaret, Debbie, Carolyn, Bonnie, Susan, Karen, Michael, and Peter. Most of the Karens I knew were nice people. They don’t deserve the bad rap.

Agreed. The “Sphinx” sentence is the cooler of the two. I’ve been using it for a long time. My personal twist: the last word becomes “vowel,” not “vow.” For me, easier on the ears.

You’re absolutely right. I was self-employed from '87 - '16. Gig work before they called it that. No regular commute!

Today: 203,067 miles. 85% of the distance to the moon. Destination, the Sea of Longevity.

1999 Toyota Tacoma. A dinky two-door job. Still running. It’s old enough to buy itself a drink. Has a shell on the back. I’m the kind of guy who runs the car until it runs no more or isn’t cost affordable. Get regular oil changes, general maintenance, nothing spectacular. A life utility vehicle. Little rusty around the edges, and definitely a car for an old dude who doesn’t have to impress the chicks. As a matter of fact, it tends to attract older guys, like me, who walk up and say “that is such a cool truck.”

Yanks are a sneaky bunch.

Commies and Cream Pies, now there’s an afternoon…