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Ave, lector.

Interesting how the mind adjusts to new situations, isn’t it?   Well, you might not think so, but shut up, I don’t care about you anyway.

CROSS ANOTHER READER OFF THE LIST OF PEOPLE TO OFFEND.

The college I go to provides each meal each day of the week, except Sunday dinner.  I enjoy this so far, as although the food is not the highest quality it is clearly made with love in every helping.  Also lots of salt.

An interesting side effect of this is the way I evaluate free food now that I have no refrigerator and one meal each week to account for.  Now when I look at an advertisement or event I think “Hmm, how well would that keep just sitting on my desk for a day? No, it probably would not be good to eat on Sunday even if I locked it in a drawer for the intervening 72 hours…” or “No, I won’t be going to that, I only need food on Sunday evenings and I can always just eat toothpaste then.”

I have noticed that reading too much David Thorne tends to make me contemptuous of commas and omit them from many of my sentences.

For example that last sentence could have used a comma or two and is sadly bereft of them in a way which is vaguely unsettling.

Okay. I’m going to stop that now.

Any more violations of unwritten grammar laws in that fashion and I would be forced to make my fingers commit harakiri.  This would have been painful, and quite irritating, as it takes such a long time for fingers to grow back.

I wonder how long it takes other people to grow their fingers back? I should ask someone.

I feel much more whimsical today. Perhaps it’s because I had a legitimate quantity of sleep this past night.

Remarkably, my sleep has been quite sound for nearly the entirety of the previous fortnight.  This is remarkable mostly because I sometimes wake up and then cannot return to the wonderful world of sleep for hours on end.  This is often frustrating, because being awake in the middle of the night trying to fall asleep is boring.

As you can tell, I don’t really have a topic.

I’m just writing whatever floats into my head and EVENTUALLY something will fall out.

I think.

Today I made music.  I didn’t write it down, so, uh, oops, but on the plus side I did record a video of myself playing it.  Now I can transcribe it, albeit slowly and painfully.

I hate writing down music as I think of it.  It takes way too long.  I rather wish I had a musical notation software more formidable than Noteflight, which, although helpful in constructing little pieces, is not at all helpful in swiftly notating music as I play it.

What would be wonderful is a program that would notate music AS I PLAYED IT, taking down the notes and letting me set the rhythm later.  This program has probably already been invented, but I do not have it. This presents an unfortunate problem.

What would also be lovely is a program that will notate music based on ‘hearing’ it played.  This would only work for single-instrument pieces, but it would be a great way to capture improvisation, to simulate an entire orchestra for one musician, and really learn what those people on Youtube are doing.

The sound on my video seems to have dissociated from the video itself. Remarkable, since it was perfectly coordinated when I uploaded it.  I can only hope it is the poor internet connection I possess.

Ah, that’s better. As I write I can see Thorne fading away and Pendergast coming to take his place.  I must say, I much prefer the more cultivated accent of that particular law-enforcement official in my writing.

Mimicking other writers is a bad habit, I am aware, but one which I find myself reluctant to break.

SPEAKING OF BREAK.

…is there a sadder thing than a segue’ without a purpose? I think not.

WELL.

By now the next 30 minutes of Sherlock should have finished buffering, and soon it will be time for dinner, so I will upload this rambling argument against the existence of human sanity and begone.

COMING UP NEXT TIME:

I talk about something!

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN

Did you look at the nature photos from last post, dear lector?  I hope so.  One of the portraits of a waterfall is now my desktop. I realise this does not narrow it down, as there are a number of portraits of waterfalls, but I leave the guesswork to you.

I cannot really say anything about the number of waterfall pictures.  I confess I was rivuleted by the multitude, and I would not brook any delays in the process of downloading at least one to grace my desktop.  I began streaming it immediately.

BUT ENOUGH PUNS.

Farewell, until next time, internet/reader/psyche.

Ta,

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