After reading Kim Stanley Robinson’s essay “Our Generation Ships Will Sink”, I’m reminded that — although the Mars books are wonderful and I love them — Aurora may be his most crucial. It is the only space-faring science fiction book I know of that fully grapples with the perils that would bedevil any interplanetary voyage, making the reader viscerally aware: there is no planet B. If you carry some naive faith that we can somehow science our way out of these problems if only we dream big enough, I invite you to roll up your sleeves and get the fuck to work proving it before you gamble with the only sure home we have.

I’ve been surfing existential COVID-19-related freak-outs for the past few weeks. My current anxiety management regimen is: One. Maintaining consistent morning meditation, using Brightmind — the meditation app that teaches Shinzen Young’s Unified Mindfulness meditation practices. They are currently offering free one year subscriptions. Two. Reading Rebecca Solnit’s A Paradise Built in Hell, which reminds us that the actual state of nature to which humans revert in disaster isn’t a Hobbesian war of all against all.

Sometimes when I’m reading a difficult book, I realize that I’m not just having the thought “I didn’t understand that”, but also the thought “What if I didn’t understand that?” The former is clarifying and helpful. I can respond to it by re-reading a paragraph or opening a notebook and putting the idea in my own words. The latter is self-interference, generated by fear of looking stupid. And I’m tired of living with it.

I finished & indexed volume 24 of my notebooks today, appropriately on Warren Ellis' reaction to Roam Research. Yes, I read Venkat’s Text Renaissance piece, which would have been more effective if the notation tool he talks up didn’t have the most inept and incoherent onboarding video I’ve seen in months. Buy a fucking notebook. I have actually been using Roam with great succcess, but that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my notebooks any time soon.

Today is my thirty-eighth birthday. We went out for a family birthday breakfast at my favorite place in Burlington, took a walk together, and now I’m getting some quiet time at my desk while listening to soothing, droning music (hello, A Winged Victory for the Sullen!) This time of year, I like to take stock of things and think about habits and goals for the year head. Other folks can have their New Year’s Resolutions and all, but for me I need a little space from the holidays before I can think clearly about my situation.

Spent last Sunday afternoon with an Elaborate Metaphor, cutting up the New York Times to make collages. Also known as “LARPing Kleon”.

This is a list of some of my favorite fiction books that I read in 2019. See previous iteration: 2018. Martha Wells' The Murderbot Diaries. This is an incredibly fun series, both funny and full of poignant moments. The narrator is a cyborg security operative that broke free of its programming and went on a… Netflix binge. All Systems Red Artificial Condition Rogue Protocol Exit Strategy Becky Chambers' Wayfarers series.

I just came in from doing battle with this winter’s first bottom-of-the-driveway glacier. Chop with the ice breaker, shovel the fragments, go inside to regain feeling in my fingers, repeat. This is the time of year when I sometimes feel like I am mostly just lacing and unlacing boots. ❄️ Jason Kottke’s secret to enjoying a long winter was well-timed for me this week: I decided that because I live in Vermont, there is nothing I can do about it being winter, so it was unhelpful for me to be upset about it.

One week into EST and my circadian rhythm is still stuck in EDT. I’ve been waking up (and unable to fall back asleep) between three and four AM, then zombie-ing through much of my day. I was hopping back and forth between my journal and notes this morning, assembling possible materials to share with you all, and tried to write that I was having lots of “mind wandering”. It came out “wind mandering”, which I’ve decided is some kind of psychic meteorological event that gusts through a village stealing memories.

Peter Stallybrass’s “Against Thinking” is a manifesto against the myth that original ideas come from talent and a blank page. He compares the labor of writing to the labor of bees: Talent, skill, and taste all matter, but they need material to work with. The history of literature and thought is one long conversation, building off the top of other people’s concepts, drawing new connections or trying new metaphors.