I helped a woman pack her produce at a CSA pick-up, right before the social ride at Perennial. As thanks, she gave me one of her beef tomatoes. I haven’t decided what to make with this yet. I want something uncomplicated, so I can enjoy the full depth of its flavour…

She said she was bringing them to her grandma’s; they were going to follow her recipe, for a tomato jam. It’s very sweet, just like strawberry jam. I was surprised to see that being made with beef tomatoes; she admitted she wanted to give it a go because the beef tomatoes were so cheap. I laughed, and remarked that if it didn’t turn out as sweet as she expected, she could just throw in an apple.

That gives me an idea, about the sorts of jams I could make. Certainly tomatoes are cheaper to buy here than strawberries—and most other berries. So if I want…

It was hot and blustery when I went out to wait at the bus stop. Took the 11; one of my favourite bus drivers, John was the one who picked me up! We chatted a bit. Asked him if he’d ever been to Crystal Lake, recommended it; he said he had a girlfriend there once, years ago. Hadn’t been since, but it was a nice place. I noticed, maybe for the first time, that he wore fingerless gloves; I wonder if that really made the bus operation more comfortable. Or, if he bikes home after this. We talked a bit about the music festivals happening all over the summer; he asked me if I played any instruments. I told him no, only sang. “Ah, so you’re the back-up instrument!”

The Small Business Founding tutorial at the Central Library didn’t give me the networking opportunities I’d hoped for, but it was very educational. The lecturer, Maribel, recognised me, as we worked in the same building. I didn’t recognise her at all, but I pretended to, as usual. I jotted down plenty of notes, and I’ll be reaching out to her, to obtain a copy of the presentation she gave via email.

I got caught in the rain, after I finished the grocery shopping I did after the workshop; that grey, heavy storm broke open maybe an hour earlier than I thought it would. Ash, one of the workshop attendees, had brought a red-and-black umbrella. I thought it was peculiar, since the weather was still good and sun-bright by the time we got out. I don’t know if they were going elsewhere after the workshop; they’re currently working from home in a 9–5, and expressed a desire to learn what’s required to start their own business. One of the questions I asked Maribel was what sort of start-ups they’d been seeing more often after COVID, and which ones were struggling; of course, many of the craft breweries were closing, but a lot of cleaning companies were going into business. Ash explained that WFH workers were probably hiring them to clean their home; they had done so themself, actually.

Going out an’ about around the city, as limited as the Downtown office-core area is, gave me the idea of looking into some of the nearby local businesses for openings; I found a bunch that interest me. I’ll turn in my applications tomorrow; it’s already enough work to tailor my CV for one position, let alone half a dozen. I’m hoping I land a position in a nearby restaurant. I miss that kind of physically active, in-close-contact-with-food type of work. Maybe it’s not glamourous, but even though at the end of the day a job is just a job, I still feel that anything food-oriented is very important to me.

The job search continues, but I’m in no hurry. I’m finally beginning to mentally slow down—no more rushing and skipping ahead to the next word, next reaction, like before. She and I are speaking slower, now. It’s… really nice.

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.

This span of unemployment has given me the mental space needed to think about how I want to arrange my life. I’ve spent about a year now exploring various scenes in Minneapolis… Which biking clubs interest me, which don’t. Several of the dive bars and live music venues here. Unhappily, there isn’t anything comparable to the Icehouse here in NE. But biking down to there or Eat Street Crossing isn’t a huge burden to me.

Music, dance, biking—that’s what’s important to me. Live music more than anything else at this point. (And I should also really make it a point to visit the MIA soon… I haven’t been there in a while.) I like biking, it’s important to me. But as I explained to her earlier, and which she and my former supervisor understand very deeply—biking is my walkies. You don’t talk to me when I bike. Well, I don’t have extended conversations when I bike. Pointing out something, discussing a landmark, sure. Going over our careers and hobbies and children and other current affairs? Hard pass. Biking. Is my walkies.

So I’m not really that emotionally close to the various biking scenes here, even though I’ve made a reputation for myself as that cool guy who brings good music and who’s a good conversationalist over the table. People like me… and it’s still very strange to me, how much they like me. I suppose because I always bring something to the table, I should expect that sort of affection—I have very little experience with such social relations. Nothing in how I was raised—the first 18 years of my life—prepared me for this. And after that? It was mostly work, isolated… No social life. Video games, reading, art. Not an entirely empty existence, but.

Almost completely lacking in that human contact that adds texture and depth of flavouring to one’s days.

Now, in Minneapolis, after about a year, I’ve made interesting acquaintances: every outing has been a venture into new, unfamiliar territory. But I suppose that’s life. I suppose on Tuesday, I’ll go back out to Grumpy’s, spend more time with the burners and burner-adjacent—it’s a nice crew that I really like. I vibe more with them than with some others whom I spend more regular time with; I ought to spend more of my Thursdays with Venture Bikes, too. Their slow rolls are… slow. But the community is unmatched. I’ve spent a good amount of time trying to find my tribe here in Minneapolis—it turns out I have a bunch, but there are some tribes that I’m closer to than others.

Navigating all these relationships, all these communities. Finding out “who you are” isn’t a singular, lonesome atomic process, but also a question of “Who do I want to spend time with?” Nobody had taught me that. I didn’t learn it from movies, music, stories, TV. Games like Persona focus only on individual relationships, not tribes or groups of people. The World Ends With You showed the embryonic stages of what I’ve undergone this year. Do people not know how to tell stories about cities? Do people not have them? Not only the stories, but the city?