OVERconnected: The Promise and Threat of the Internet is done; now to move on to the next book, or, perhaps better yet, actually finish that painting I’ve been sitting on for two years now.

I still need to clean up my apartment; everything that I’ve brought home from the office (and it turns out; I had brought a lot) still needs to be put away. For example, the Vornado fan… Dietz’s wives (don’t ask). The extra tea that I bought; other miscellaneous office supplies and items to make office work easier and more efficient. I now have an excess of smartphone stand-chargers, and I probably need to buy shelves for Dietz’s wives to sit on. This isn’t a problem I anticipated having.

July’s goth picnic was cancelled again, due to the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. I’m getting increasingly antsy about getting my GoSwag flask back. Yes, I have a spare, but it’s not yellow, and I am unhappy that my flask is possibly occupying valuable space in Alice’s abode (whatever that may be).

I REALLY want my flask back.

There’s so much I wanna note. I’m finding out that a big part of my restlessness is that I haven’t been able to WRITE for an extended period of time—get my thoughts down, somewhere. You know… Blog. That sorta thing.

Freedom From Pants ’25 has been the most fun thing I’ve ever done for a 4th of July. Swimming at Cedar Lake, all the beer, biking down the Midtown Greenway and seeing all the fireworks go off all around us, watching from Sabo Bridge… There’s a lot to talk about, but, funnily enough, I feel pretty satisfied looking back at my memories alone. I do wanna share this one wild thing, though… These three guys, not with the group at least I don’t think so, they hiked up with a giant-ass king-size inflatable sofa bed above their heads, along with giant glow sticks an’ a cooler. It was super cool an’ comical. Like they literally set it down next to this bench where a middle-aged interracial couple (black woman, white man with a “something Ministries” shirt on).

“You came prepared!”

It’s madlads like them that make me really appreciate community. Yes, community. Tomfoolery IS community. You know how much fun it was waterfalling a keg of Cologne beer in the middle of a sunset in a lake with neighbours you’ve met at local wine-tasting? You know how much fun it was dancing to music set out by a guy who organised a beachside party with blowup-doll volleyball spiking? You know how much fun it was to just ride Downtown with hundreds of other people with no trousers on, and all of us simultaneously and cheering on the cops on bikes? (And I think they were cheering us too?! Damn!)

I used to be far more cynical, far more mechanical. I didn’t understand people, no matter how much I read, because I never interacted with them; growing up Asian in a California suburb will do that to ya. Even now I’m still “shy” (yes, the guy who is everywhere in Minneapolis, is shy). Learning how to insert yourself into a crowd is a learned skill… Which I’m GRADUALLY becoming better at. I think I’m pretty OK at it now. Now, it’s just a matter of time… Consistently showing up to things, getting to know people, writing down their names because fuck it’s so much harder to remember names now since my uh, 10 subsequent COVID infections. Fuck.

I want to keep growing as a person. I want to keep making these connections, these friends, these memories. Life is so precious an’ fragile. Man.

Taste of Minnesota ’25 was ass. I mean, not the music, but what the hell is up with the new security policy for bags? Basically ALL bags banned unless they’re clear?? The whole fest was smaller this year, too… Great music line-up but fewer vendors and a smaller space as a result. Why less food??? Huh…