Hi hi hi. Man I am late. I slept so long. It didn’t do any good. I feel sleepy. I had nightmares. I don’t remember them. It is all very disconcerting. Do not like.

Reader update: Briefly microwaving your ice cream before eating it seems socially acceptable. Both men and women do it but there does seem to be a sizable percentage of people (mostly women) who deem it blasphemous. A mysterious divide between the sexes. Someone write a thesis on it. Maybe I can get my daughter to do her next science fair project about it.

Don’t have any meetings today, so I took Jane to the Ukrainian place for breakfast. Is it really Ukrainian? Maybe not? When we first started going there, it had a Ukrainian flag in the window, an old couple who both looked very Eastern European working there, and it served Babkas? So it seemed a safe bet? But I don’t know, man. I don’t see the Eastern Europeans very often. Now it is an older latina lady and a lot of young ladies of assorted ethnicities. They still serve babkas but they serve a lot of empanadas too. It is somewhat of a mysery. Also it seems to be named after an Ecuadorean town, so… maybe it is not Ukrainian at all. Maybe we need to stop calling it the Ukrainian place.

As Jane and I sat there eating, One of the Somerville-area representatives to the Massachusetts State House was being interviewed. A little Googling Kagi-ing (make it a thing) showed me it was Christine Barber. Six-term democrat, former health care policy analyst. Went to Holy Cross and got her MPAA at Umass Amherst. The interviewer was a white guy who looked exactly like an interviewer in some show like House of Cards. Young and idealistic, focused on housing policy, wearing a white buttondown shirt, no coat, perfect hair. She would talk for like ten sentences and he would take one or two lines of notes.

She is a consummate professional, practiced answers for every question, except the one about “what’s your proudest accomplishment in six terms” which really seemed like a softball. Her politics seemed decently liberal but I am probably to the left of her. I found things to criticise in her interview style at first, but then I realized that was more a me thing. I always cozy up to interviewers. I always act like a human. Try to get them to like me. But these two it was more like “he is a vessel for information to get to more people I do not need to like him I just need to be accurately quoted.” I mean don’t get me wrong they were polite to each other and there was an unspoken understanding it was a bit of a softball interview, but she did not have the charm turned on. Or she doesn’t have any. I do not know which. She seemed on the ball though, so I suspect the former.

I did not interrupt them. I am an interloper in this city. I am an asshole taking up an affordable (ish) apartment. What right do I have to opinions about Somerville.

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Listening this morning to Yumi Zouma, who I think I have talked to you about already? No Love Lost to Kindness is the name of the album, whatever that means. A bit shoegazy, bit more lyrical and poppy and rock than your average shoegaze these days. Little bit of drum machine but not in a My Bloody Valentine way. Feels kinda like those 90’s shoegaze-meets-rock-meets-madchester bands like Garbage or Placebo? Ish? Anyway. I like it. It is catchy. It is upbeat.

Got to watch the new Bobby Fingers last night. It had been briefly taken down from Youtube because of the briefest, small flash of a painted nipple on a piece of clothing that had a print on it from an old-masters painting. Ridonkadonk. But he got it taken care of. Another masterpiece. Man that guy has talent. And (spoilers) we meet his wife in this episode, which is pretty f’n hilarious. Solid gold from Bobby Fingers. Really is worth your time. So much so I am committing a breach of GMHHAY ettiquette and double-posting the link. I mean I accidentally double-post photos all the time. But this time it’s on purpose.

George RR Martin posted to his blog yesterday and it was… well, not good. First, he basically just admitted a lot of his recent blog posts weren’t written by him but his PR team and he hadn’t written to his fans in like seven months. Which, fine, whatever, all the famous people do it. But then he said he had been depressed, he was depressed, he was getting old and it was probably gonna just keep getting worse from here on out. Which, I mean, this is, like, my default state, so I certainly understand. But man I feel for the guy. He kinda seems to be admitting defeat on ASOIAF which has not historically been the case. Maybe I am reading too much into it. Anyway, the guy seems sad and I feel bad for him. We love you George. You and your weird hat. Thank you for investing in Meow Wolf.

The New York Times posted a list of the best “thriller” novels from the 21st century and, wow, reader: I think I do not like thrillers? This list seemed just like a terrible thing to me. I mean there were a few like Donna Tart and Cormack McCarthy I was like yes okay, these books are good. But mostly I am at a loss why people would read thrillers. I did not know this was a thing. I mean I guess I knew it was a thing but holy hell there are a lot of thrillers out there. Not for me, not for me. I eagerly await the NYT’s list of best sci-fi of the 21st century. Or did that already happen?

Jane and I worked our shit out on a walk. She told me how she would like me to handle teeth and I did it last night and it worked like a dream. Emma has had an insight that Jane, right now, is vehemently against any reward system, any attempt to bribe her into good behavior. That was insightful and it seems true. So I guess we can wrap that chapter up. NEVER TO SPEAK OF IT AGAIN.

We spent the evening after our walk, she and I, snuggling on the couch while she watched black hole videos and I read Dungeon Crawler Carl. Shit is going down in the Dungeon, man. Emma was off to the mall. It was quiet, we didn’t talk much. We had gotten through it all on the walk earlier. It was cozy. It was mayhaps too screen-focused. I try to tell her Kindles don’t count as screens but she is not having it. Perhaps rightly so.

But I am old, I am blind, I need my large type. I mean, I don’t need it, but… boy it sure is nice. I am trying to figure this out: if I can read small type just fine, why do I like bigger type? Do we all like it? Even though we don’t need it? Is it somehow more comfortable on the eyes? Is it laziness?

A real mystery.