(no subject)

[kingtycoon]

Walking through the snow the other night, all along mayfield, it's been the same snow for months now, it's been cold.  We're talking about art & art ideas & movements and then also personae, identity, thoughts concerning that.  I tell her the story of how I started to call myself Kingtycoon, and how one day I wrote this manifesto & spent my last few bucks printing off copies to hand out and denounce reality at strangers.  All of which are true things that once happened.

She gets excited & a little mind blown, something has changed & I'm about to be thrilled to have transmitted the gnosis.  "You know dad, I thought you called yourself that because of Zoo Tycoon."  And I laugh and laugh.  It's still pretty funny.

We've had a good set of weekends to correspond to a bad set of weeks.  In a moment our group here at work is meant to have a  department-wide lunch.  The second banana honcho tells me she's planning to bring up flagging morale- which is a balsy move.  I wonder if she will.  She's not wrong, it's been really ugly around here for a while.  Quit without a backup job ugly.  

Weekends have been good — birthdays and all that.  I got to be 43 and it's alright, I guess?  My knees are hassling me in a way they haven't before and I felt it furiously yesterday at the opera.  Bridget got us tickets to see the opera of Moby Dick in Pittsburgh — so I got a car and we drove out and saw it and drove back and the hard part was sitting in the fancy theater because 100 years ago people were apparently miniature.  

I love Moby Dick and I really like the opera — so it was a nice confluence of favorite things and out of seemingly nowhere.  Who knew?  Facebook told me about it — on my phone where I can't quite block advertising like I'd like — but I was advertised properly, algorithmically.  It was just okay.  B said the 2nd act made it alright, redeemed, and I wasn't pedantic enough to say anything about how she meant the 3rd act.  But she meant the 3rd act.  I disagreed, but only because...  In Moby Dick the captain is drug to a watery hell by the whale he's been hunting, pinned to its side by his own spear — his ship smashed to bits and the only one to see it is some nobody riding the coffin of his dead friend.  It's such a climactic climax, it's so fucking strong — you could write your whole book just to get to that scene, so everything short of what I imagine it to be is not enough.  

Anyhow, Pittsburgh is very nice, pretty.  Even in this dingy brown & gray season.  It's a pretty place and I'm in a good mood today & I can't help but wonder if just changing the view has improved my disposition, have I been too much in this crumbling old town?  

... Oh man.  So the grill wouldn't work for lack of propane & I fully expect a tantrum to be inbound.  Who even knows anymore about anything?  But...  Okay.  I think I have a plan.  Maybe spring has come at last?  The sky is blue, the weather has broken.  Maybe I'll work forward with these ideas I have, these books I could at least make.  

Oh!  Yeah, so...  My D&D character got promoted to a divinity and then that campaign kept going with people following him as worshipers — so I went ahead and started making his scripture, because of course I did.  I think I can get this finished up sometime in the next couple of weeks.  

With no apologies to the apostle John

Illuminations by young Agatha

We're collaborating in a fun way.

Comments

[kingtycoon.livejournal.com]

Also, on the ride home we were running out of stuff to listen to and getting bored of they might be giants & she got excited and said - "I know just the thing!" and played Laurie Anderson Oh Superman. Because she's either the coolest or nerdiest 15 year old in the world.