In France he's known as J-Zed.
On blue skies and Bluesky
Not to brag, but I joined Bluesky back in 2023. When people were choosing between it and Mastadon. Ahem. Ahem.
In the good old days of Twitter, I had the giddy glee of being retweeted by Neil Gaiman. Whatever did I say that was so clever that that I got his imprimatur (then still a commodity). Should I even admit to that now?
I logged-out of my personal X account in the fall; by now itt must be deleted.
Goodbye bon mots! Goodbye good times! Goodbye carefree youth!
(How funny, I haven’t thought of this song in ages, but writing the above line–I hear it in my head. Know what I mean?)
Is it all so much worse than we imagined, yet? For you? For the guys who roll up on e-bikes to deliver chicken wings and pizza? For that elderly woman who depends on Medicaid? For the kid who wants to pick their own pronoun, for god’s sake? Why must you impose your morality–who cares if they are a they?
As some of you know, I once worked at Tablet–which since my departure in 2016–has taken a sharp turn south into the Gulf of Conspiracy and Paranoia. I’m not suggesting causality–I had no influence there on any directions or paths that publication traveled.
Nowadays, I visit Twitter via a work account and scan the posts of a few former colleagues. I could easily be convinced some of them are now on Trump’s payroll. (One of them defended Elon’s Nazi salute–I choke on my own bile.) Maybe the outrage gives me a dopamine hit. Otherwise why do I expose myself to insidiousness, to hypocrisy?
I spent today driving to New Jersey to take my dad to the periodontist. Tooth decay where a root canal once was, so he can’t feel what’s amiss. His body had no way to tell him of the rot. And now–at 90–he has to have extractions and implants. As Jessie, can his body take it? I guess we’re going to find out.
Floss. Brush. Rinse.
I brought him two donuts from Fan Fan.
We had a lovely party for him a week and change ago. Everyone made toasts. Even Isaiah got in on the action, having at first thought he’d say nothing. Hard to believe Alfred was born before World War Two had even broken out.
January really does feel like it takes twice as long. Meanders and drags it’s way through.. The light stays with us longer–that’s a help–but the promise of spring is only still text on the page. Not even quite an idea. A ghost.
Oh, that’s sort of what my toast was about. How you have to pay attention to the small changes–to the sun’s shadow on the wall and how it’s different today than it was yesterday. How the little plant shoot forces it’s way to the surface. How marvelous that is–and ubiquitous How my father showed me that–that you have to practice being open to those marvels or you’ll miss them and you’ll miss everything. The wonders of the universe. They exist notwithstanding would-be fascists and oligarchs and sycophants.
On Bluesky, I haven’t gotten the affirmation I used to crave. I post one-liners:
Holy Molars: A show about a family of dentists who are pious.
In France he's known as J-Zed.
If it's not waltzing mathilde, it's walking pneumonia, amirite?
Barely a blink from youse. S’okay. Me—I’m laughing.