Journal > Dispatch #11 (January 2024)

Posted 2024-01-10 under #dispatch

That’s a wrap on 2023. Our little Nevie turned two in December. It’s hard to imagine her changing as much in the next year as she did in the last, but I suppose it’s inevitable. We spent Christmas at Claire’s folks’ house and hit up both the Greensboro Children’s Museum and Greensboro Science Center.

A curly-haired child holds frosting-covered fingers near their open mouth beside a small white cake with two candles, with another child and adults in the background. A young child with curly hair holds a small red cup out through the window of a red play train carriage with gold trim.

We’re on a bit of a purge, trying to free up some space in the house. It’s an overwhelming project (how did we acquire so much stuff?) but we’re taking it one step at a time. I’ve been building new shelves and put up guitar hangers to clear up some floor space. I’ve taken inspiration from this post about office organization and this one about maintaining a list of where to find things.

Wooden shelves mounted to exposed wall studs hold labeled black storage bins with red latches. Lower shelves are mostly empty, with a translucent lidded bin at the bottom. A sunburst electric bass with a cream pickguard and a natural wood electric guitar with a black pickguard hang side by side on exposed wooden framing beside diagonal metal braces.

Music-wise, I received an Arturia KeyStep 37 as a Christmas gift from my in-laws. This thing is super nice; I’m already having a blast using it to play my existing gear, and I’m hoping it’ll play a big role as I shift to a more computer-based workflow. Here’s a new track called “Orographic”:

I dusted off the Switch to play Dead Cells. It’s similar to Hades but in a more retro side-scrolling format. Highly recommended if you don’t mind dying a lot. We also finished season three of Slow Horses, the best thing going on television these days.

Finally, I’ll leave you with this passage from Four Thousand Weeks that I reflect upon often:

In his play The Coast of Utopia, Tom Stoppard puts an intensified version of this sentiment into the mouth of the nineteenth-century Russian philosopher Alexander Herzen, as he struggles to come to terms with the death of his son, who has drowned in a shipwreck – and whose life, Herzen insists, was no less valuable for never coming to fruition in adult accomplishments. “Because children grow up, we think a child’s purpose is to grow up,” Herzen says. “But a child’s purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn’t disdain what only lives for a day. It pours the whole of itself into each moment … Life’s bounty is in its flow. Later is too late.

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