6/13/22

 We've gotten to Season 3 of Stranger Things. I'm most scared of this season of the first three because it's the scariest. Billy is scary! What a great actor. I'm pretty apprehensive about the 4th season because I expect it to be horrifying.

Pika hung out with us for a little bit while we were watching TV in the living room. She was sitting so quietly in her pen that I didn't even realize she was there. When the episode ended and I started walking about, she couldn't take it and so left.

Rocky has been pretty sneezy lately. Hope he's okay.

Game 4 of the NBA finals is on right now. Celtics vs. Warriors. I think of Sarathi when I see the Celtics. I think about Nicole when I see the Warriors. Unfortunately, one of them will be very sad by the end of the Finals. 

After work today, Luis and I went to the Redwood City Library to check out some books. I rechecked out Both Flesh and Not by David Foster Wallace. (I just returned the Berkeley Library copy yesterday.) In preparation of picking the book back up, I also checked out "Bright Lights, Big City" by Jay McInerny and a book of Ludwig Wittgenstein's private journals.

When I see/think "Bright Lights, Big City", I think of the song the centipede sings in the movie "James and the Giant Peach". Bright lights, big city, that's where I wanna go. Where the something something and the something is pretty. Ba da da da da, da da da da you go. Ya love em, hold em, squeeze em tight, da di di, the briiight lights and the biiiig city. That's where I'll be, yeah. That's where I'll -- and then the spider interrupts his song. Good movie.

I was disappointed that the library didn't have some of Ludwig's philosophical works. I'm thinking perhaps I should read those first before I read his private journal, but I think that thinking is just the me who is super straight and inflexible. I'm sure it's fine. But what a strange concept that his private journals are now published for the world to read. Maybe he would've been fine with it, but it's a weird concept. Imagine if my blogs were published like 100 years later. I'd be pretty self conscious, and also a little incredulous, perhaps even a little weirded out, if there were people in the world interested in reading these silly things I sometimes and irregularly write. It'd be a piece of work for people to even be able to compile all my rando journaling since they're super broken up and I've used different things.

Alrighty, that's enough rambling. I'm tired now.