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Date: January 15th, 2020

Time of Writing: 8:26 PM

Weather: Cold, I'm assuming, I didn't go outside again.

Mood: Slightly annoyed.

Day Overview: I don't really have anything to say about what I did today. I stayed inside. I woke up six hours ago. Tomorrow I'm getting my passport card at the post office so that maybe I can go to Canada during Spring Break in March. I listened to a couple albums and early in the morning before I fell asleep, I read a book. I should have woken up earlier today. That would have been better without question. Instead I stayed in and I felt like I didn't have time to do much of anything, so I didn't do much of anything.

On My Mind: There isn't much on my mind, either. I'm sitting at the dining room table right now, moved from my usual spot because my brother sat there while I was listening to some music in my room. He's playing an old SNES game, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, a game that I've tried to play many times and always wound up giving up on part of the way through. I feel like I've had more than enough Zelda for a long time, until the new one comes out. The television is on in the living room; my Dad is watching a show. There's always noise. Even if I went in my room, I'd hear it from in there, since the walls are thin and it's a hardware show with high pitched buzzsaw noises. I'm basically waiting on my Mom to turn on the television in the kitchen for the cross-noise to become too much. I'll snap. I'll just about lose it. Pain is flaring up in my finger. My time in my hometown is just about over. I haven't showered yet today and my hair feels greasy. I've overstayed my welcome, or just about. Sunday can't come soon enough. I need to see what textbooks to buy. I need to figure out what the hell I'm doing with myself. It's already halfway through the first month of the year.

Consumed:

• Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre: Over the past few years, I've read a lot of books in the introverted misanthropic males being melodramatic about having to be alive in a society genre. Stuff like Notes From Underground and The Book of Disquiet, as well as Steppenwolf and No Longer Human. I can't entirely say why I've gravitated towards these books, but what I can say is that they've been generally all over the place. All of these books sit on a spectrum from poorly-disguised-manifesto to actual-work-of-fiction, with Pessoa's work on the manifesto end (what a miserable read that was) and Dazai on the other. When I picked up Nausea and saw that it was written like a diary, I was worried that I'd have another Book of Disquiet on my hands, a tome of pure misery without anything actually happening. I am happy to report that this is not the case, and that the diary framework does not define the text but instead only frames it. The novel balances introspection and actual events incredibly well, and the setting of Bouville is well realized. Numerous memorable characters abound, my favorite being the Self-Taught Man - what a tragic figure! The book left me with a lot to think about, most importantly the idea of outliving oneself as the character Anny professes to have done. I worry all the time about this happening to myself someday, and I have to wonder how many people I've met think this way about themselves already. There were a few parts I didn't enjoy or didn't think were really necessary either for developing the main character, and I think that was sort of on purpose, given that the diary would by nature contain just whatever he did that day. I thought the Rollebon stuff was interesting but wholly unnecessary, and the place the novel left off on made me want more, I don't know at all what to think about the ending. Probably my second favorite book in the introverted misanthropic males being melodramatic about having to be alive in a society genre, also known as Doomer Lit., tied with Notes From Underground and beneath No Longer Human. 8/10.
• Fine Line by Harry Styles: Eminently listenable pop music. Some of these songs hint at some greater potential for songwriting but none of that potential is actively used by this album, sad to say. The soul influences feel wrong to me and when they crop up I feel like it's actively not a good thing, less an homage to a genre and more a co-opting of a whole culture. It's incredibly fake. That aside, I didn't get bored listening to this, and nothing besides that bit caused me active disgust, and even then it wasn't all that much. I didn't feel this one all that much but it was okay. 6/10.
• Ilana: The Creator by Mdou Moctar: I first heard this band when I heard that Songs from Saharan Cellphones release a while back and I enjoyed the song they had on there so I decided I'd check out a full album of their stuff. Holy crap these guys are great! This is some seriously imaginative guitar work, and the psychedelic mood of this album is seriously impressive. I hear they're even better live and they're absolutely going on my concert bucket list. After a bit some of the drum rhythms start to get repetitive, and these songs as a rule don't usually develop or go anywhere but just sort of mellow out, which I can't fault the album for at all because it's the kind of music it is but it loses a point on that because it's not really what I'm into. I really liked Tarhatazed, if you're interested in this band definitely check that song out. 8/10.

Produced: I thought for a moment that I got some writing done today, but I went and double checked and it turns out that no, that was just yesterday. Today was unproductive, and the worst part is that I was hoping it could be something more. I have no problem watching an insufferably long YouTube video essay, but whenever I sit down to do something that will actually benefit me I have commitment issues when it comes to the time I could spend.

Other Thoughts: Big new feature is planned for Friday still. It's interactive, if you'd like a hint. It'll be a fixture of the website, and one of my few indulgences in the retro 90's internet craze that most of Neocities is preoccupied with. Thank you for reading.