Beyond The City Lights

25 July 2026

I’m currently listening to my 2021 Apple Music Replay of all my top songs that year, and “Xanadu” just came on.

I had totally forgotten the stranglehold that film had on me that year. “Twilight” by Electric Light Orchestra has been my low key favorite song forever, and that film, and that specific title track, being a crossover of electro-disco-pop Hollywood magic and ELO smooth moodiness made it just a perfect storm that I jammed to over and over again that summer.

I still love it.

Sometimes I go do my runs in the city.

And sometimes my city shows out.

There is a Vietnamese coffee shop in my town that has the frothiest, most delicious iced coffee I’ve ever had. The only thing that saves me from vastly over-patronizing this establishment is that they close early and my sweet tooth only kicks in late. They’re rare, those perfect moments of synchronicity when the two line up.

Anyway, this is me complaining that I’d really like a Vietnamese iced coffee right now, but they’ve been closed for at least three hours. Probably for the best.

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In other news, I’ve been going for as many morning runs as possible before the Louisiana heat turns the air into liquid fire. Here are some recent views.

A few days ago I went to the garden center and bought a whole passel of new plants for my front beds, along with some shiny new tools, soil and mulch.

But they’re all still sitting there on my back patio in their pots because it’s been too hot to get out and do anything with them. I just need one cool day. Just one. I’ll literally take off work for it if I need to.

QOTD

“That’s the advice I always give to writers:

Write only for yourself. That’s the only way to create something truly beautiful; if you speak to your soul.”

Me: “Is it humid outside?”

Them: “It’s fine. Not too bad.”

Meanwhile, outside:

If Steven Spielberg says I have to read “East of Eden,” then I have to read “East of Eden.”

This weekend I closed on a house.

She’s a beauty. Just the right size. Just the amount of rooms I need. She’s located in a kayak-lover’s part of the state. I’m walking distance to a bayou and a river.

But there are a few drawbacks I’m encountering. The last thing I want to do is complain in real life, so I’m just going to catharise (I did confirm that’s a real word) by writing them here.

1. Because my new house is in a rural area I have two addresses - physical address and a mailing address - and this has wrought havoc on me trying to get my utilities in order.

2. The drawback to all that water I mentioned is that the house is in a low lying area. I had my first flash-flood storm last night and the water came pouring down the road faster than the drains could remove it, and a little mini lake started to build up. Now, the rain slacked and gave the drains time to do their thing, but I was getting nervous there for a minute. Concerned about the next hurricane now.

3. I’m learning that this house is just ever so slightly damp. Not really damp, that’s too strong, but slightly more humid than it should be. Not enough that the fabrics feel damp, or that there is a film of moisture on any surfaces, but enough that my skin feels just the tiniest bit clammy. And I do not like it.

This is probably the exact amount of moisture that people who use humidifiers are aiming for. It’s probably excellent for my sinuses and houseplants. But I’m a humidity-nonexistent, artificial climate control kinda guy.

We’re in our rainy season right now though, and the air outside is like wading through a pond, so I’m hoping this problem is seasonal.

•But now back to the good stuff:

1. I have been living in urban cores for the last decade. During that time I never had more space for planting than what would fit in a pot on my balcony. Now I plan to actually build and grow a full kitchen garden in my south-facing back yard. I’ve also got room for a little courtyard and a fire pit. I’m looking so forward to transforming my little plot of earth.

2. I am buying a kayak. Because obviously. I cannot wait to get out on the bayou and explore all the little cypress groves and hidden inlets.

Corporate lingo is funny.

I reached out to a coworker today who, like myself, has been working fully remotely for years now, and needed to know if she was going to be working tomorrow.

Naturally I asked her, without thinking, if she was going to “be in the office.” And she replied that she would “be in.”

It’s been a very long time since either of us set foot in our old office. But the verbiage persists.

BONUS:

This employee and I got roped a few weeks back into an emergency video call with a large, important meeting of department heads at our institution. We were given no notice. Literally just an IM after the meeting had already begun that we needed to log in right that moment to offer input of a subject that was being discussed.

I found out on Thursday that the 2002 American film “The Ring” was based on a novel. I had already known that it was a remake of a Japanese film from 1998, but didn’t realize the Japanese film was, itself, an adaptation from a Japanese novel from 1991.

That same day, I discovered that the English version of that novel was on the shelf in my local library system. I found it.

It’s amazing. First of all, being able to actually read this story on paper and let my mind do the heavy lifting, is itself a delicious experience. Secondly, this book reads like a book from “the old days”. Which makes sense since it was originally published in ‘91.

They don’t write like this anymore. 90% of the material takes place inside the protagonist’s mind. In his stream of consciousness. [As opposed to constant action sequences and character dialogue, which is common today.] But at the same time it’s still a story with an actual linear plot, not just some academic thought exercise, and we’re just along for the ride.

Anyway, I’m about two thirds finished reading it at this point, and it’s been such a nostalgic experience - both from the story perspective, and the prose perspective.

And with it being a Japanese horror novel, it’s much more slow-burn and subtle than most Western novels. Again, your mind does the heavy lifting, it’s not just spelled out for you.

I’m currently reading a novel based on historical figures and events from the early 19th century.

The following struck me and made me laugh: for the avoidance of melancholia “champagne and opiates provide great assistance.”

I feel like I’m living in 1970. Currently watching the live NASA stream of the Artemis II mission as it approaches the Moon.

Watching the Moon drift closer and closer via the live cameras mounted directly on the Artemis II spacecraft.

AND THEY’RE MAKING PROJECT HAIL MARY JOKES!

“Amaze amaze amaze.”

I was prepared for people in our 30s to be unwilling or unable to make plans on account of children.

I was absolutely not prepared for people in our 30s to be unwilling or unable to make plans on account of dogs.

A testament to the state of my country right now.

Alternatively: The way La Poste hates to see me coming.

I send post cards when I travel. It’s a thing.

However, in France the conversation always goes something like this:

I reveal my postcards and indicate that I’d like to send them please.

La Poste: Within France or ‘à l’étranger?’ (To anywhere else)

Me: À l’étranger.

La Poste: To which country? *Already gathering up the postage stamps.*

Me: USA.

La Poste: “Ooh la la.” *Slams the postage book shut and has to unlock the drawer that contains postage instructions for the difficult cases.*

07 February 2026

Okay, I’m going to try something.

I’m sitting here on a bench waiting for public transit, and my connection is running late. Which made something funny occur to me.

Literally every time I find myself in a place and time where something is supposed to be (waiting for a train, bus, friend at a restaurant, etc) and the thing/person is not there, my brain goes into film quote mode and shouts “WHO STOLE THE PENINSULA?!”