Weeknotes 299

These are my three hundredth weeknotes. I can’t help but feel a twinge of pride at my own unbidden tenacity even though I’m still unsure when to celebrate the round numbers.

I suppose the best news is that I’ve decisively narrowed Alice’s lead from 53% to 23%. I reckon I’ll catch her at this rate. On the other hand it seems unlikely I’m ever going to be able to compete with “dog poo smells” as a title.

I don’t have analytics for my site but the raw bandwidth numbers reassure me that nobody looks at it really. Most days it serves less than 1 GiB of traffic which keeps it comfortably within all the limits I care about.

That changed on the 19th when it ramped up to 4 GiB/day and kept growing to almost 30 GiB/day on the 25th. Because of the timing I assumed the demand was precipitated by Ruby drama so I stopped hosting the relevant video file myself and moved it to YouTube.

Daily traffic is well below 1 GiB again now. We can all relax.

Four gyms. It feels like I’m walking there in the middle of the night.

Work’s by turns busy and slightly disheartening. I persist. I worked from home on Friday and had a nice ride to Black Cat for a chill lunch with Marina which made everything feel a bit less intense.

Yesterday I had brunch — sort of? it was basically just overpriced lunch — at Caravan in London Bridge, then stopped off at Maltby Street Market for yet another baked treat.

I can’t tell whether my wrist’s actually getting better. I’m sick of wearing the brace so I’ve taken it off and will go to see the wrist doctor if it keeps bothering me.

I started watching Pulse (Kairo) in the hope it’d be spooky but it was too boring to finish.

I made it through Superman (2025) and found it just about watchable, but so much of it involves waiting for already-tedious previz sequences to play out in the full blaze of their budget before something interesting happens. I don’t understand who this stuff is for.

I watched another six episodes of Neon Genesis Evangelion and feel similarly confused about its target audience. It’s too pointlessly horny to be suitable for kids, but it’s not really for adults either: there’s been virtually zero narrative progress over the first dozen instalments, and it’s structured more like a Saturday morning cartoon (“this week there’s an angel in a volcano”) than a grown-up show with engaging characters and themes. Very odd.

Christ, my YouTube recommendations are getting specific.

For the past few days, twenty four hours a day, I’ve heard this every thirty seconds in my flat:

I’ve cleared out all the cupboards and explored every possible nook which might conceivably contain an object making that sound. No, my smoke alarms are mains-powered and it’s not coming from them; I have a battery-powered carbon monoxide alarm I bought and it’s not coming from that. At this stage I think the most practical option might be simply to lose my fucking mind.