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squeezes my dreams

2022-12-30

2 minute read

It was a short day yesterday. I slept in, wrote the journal, had a quick bouldering session, then went to Matt and Shang Lun's place and played Blood on the Clocktower with a big group of people. It's a social deduction game, in the vein of Werewolf or Mafia. A big difference is that dead characters can still talk and speculate, and even get one last execution vote from the grave. It was great fun, I felt a bit out of my depth but managed to clock someone at the end of the second game for a sneaky "self kill" they'd used to shift suspicion.

After this I talked to Shang Lun about collaborating to finish Offscreen Games.

finishing something

It was good to talk about it. I think the proof of concept - remaking "Dog Ate My Homework" - should be doable within 6 hours. With a speculative budget of $300 this works well.

I also showed him Small, and Conjugacão. It's dissapointing to acknowledge, but Conjugação has become a drain of time and energy. Part of the "small" wringer is aggressively applying it, with the understanding that this is absolutely necessary for my own wellbeing, even if it squeezes my dreams. It's not all bad, one thing I've been meaning to add to the small project wringer is ways to break down larger projects into smaller ones that fit through the wringer. I guess Conjugação can go into that bucket - A series of design tasks to begin with I imagine, then implimentation. I'd like to pull out the verb data modelling and make a blog post about it.

The upside to acknowledging the fall of my conjugation project is that it frees me up for new projects!

Even now I can feel the floodgates of inspiration opening up and a smaller version of conjugação falling through.

much else on?

I'm going to the beach today, looking forward to reading in the sun and doing some driving. I started reading The Glass Essay by Anne Carson last night, I'll keep reading it today. There's nothing like poetry to really bring me to a place of peace. I can get worked up over the state of my life, what I want vs what I have vs what I am. Good poetry lends a dignity and peace to my world model that pulls me out of this neurotic self obsession. It feels like it pulls me back closer to reality, which is far more rich and diverse than I can ever comprehend.

print out of Anne Carson's The Glass Essay, held together with a bull clip

I tried Le Labo's Jasmin 17 yesterday, I wasn't huge into it. Too floral for my taste, reminded me too much of soap.

Today I'll try Labdanum 18, if I have it.

listening to

Wet + Dijon "Larabar - Remembering Something Heavy in the Car Going Wherever Remix"

questions