Excursions

I was about to add dark mode to micro.threads, but I stopped myself. That’s not something I want to sign up for at this point. No theming work, for nothing.

I like this place, but for reasons I am not yet sure. I think it is about the simplicity of the offerings. It is clean to use, it is clean to look at. That matters. I am an avid fan of non-complex systems. Too many bells and whistles and I am out.

I have lost interest for WordPress, it has become a behemoth. There are too many features that a blogger would need. Sure, it will get you started, but then there are so many other basic blogging engines that will do that very well. Why go for WP then? That platform is for people serious about starting their blog or website.

In a hope to be something for all, you stop being anything for anyone.

I believe WordPress is going through a similar phase.

Every time the grinds of the daily life take toll over me, I travel to a place close by with my family and friends. The last weekend was another such occasion.

I love this place not because it is a perfect family getaway (that it is), but because it is easy to travel to, and so there is not too much planning needed. Most trips get burdensome by the sheer pain of planning so much, so ahead of time. I enjoy the travels where that’s not the case, especially when I have no interest to be a typical tourist and go spot hunting.

The purpose of one’s visit is what matters at the end. If it is to find out everything of interest in a place, sure, go sign up for a hectic few days. Even I do that at times. But, why do that when irrespective of how much you roam around, you can never cover all the interesting places, anyway? The tourists flocking around an attraction kills it for me. It is just a place of business. I prefer the turn en route where no one halts. Or the point which hasn’t got any fancy name yet.

Anyway, I know every nook and corner of this resort I stayed in. My family and I have visited every spot of interest in the place, and so can selectively just visit those that affect us. We did just that this time, too. Maybe, I am different. I am glad that my family is just like me. Crazy different “tourists” that travel for the experience, not with a checklist!

Here are a couple of more pictures from the relaxing trip.

Typatone is a brilliant little app which can help you “make music while you write”.

Each letter you type corresponds to a specific musical note pulling a new spin to your composition.

[Rest] is basic maintenance, not self-indulgence. We can’t function forever fuelled by adrenalin and caffeine, fogged brains scrabbling to function, nerves frayed like a cheap phone cable.

Source: The seven types of rest

I like Readwise service — however I cannot signup for another subscription. Directly and in USD.

While on my morning walk today, I came across a kid who was cycling around our gated community. I see him every day, alone, free — every time I see him, I know he’s enjoying his cycling. Today at a turn, I saw him sitting on the ground, his tumbled cycle next to him. I could see a lady with headphones and a couple busy with their chatters pass by him. The kid was staring down, scratching his knee, focused within.

I felt he wasn’t looking at anything particular, but rather was sad. Maybe he did look at a few people, with expectations, as they passed him by earlier, wishing someone to help him pick his cycle up. Maybe he had his expectations from humanity broken.

Anyway, as I came close to him, I asked him he was fine. All it took was my first word, and he was up on his feet, trying to pick his cycle. Once he gave me his permission to touch his cycle, I helped him get it up on its wheels. He adjusted his tiny spectacles over his nose with his wrist, mumbled a few words and paddled along. I soon saw him chasing pigeons with his cycle, the birds not flying away but hopping around. It looked as if the friends often played this game. In my opinion, his tumble today was a test that we adults failed.

What have we become as a Soceity that we prefer to remain plugged in to our digital worlds, that we don’t even acknowledge a saddened kid who simply needs a nudge to get back to enjoying the realities of life?

I published the first issue of the revived Slanting Nib newsletter today where I narrate a personal story of the day when I panicked in the swimming pool, twice, and how it affected my teenage life. As promised in the last issue of the first revision, I intend to keep this the format going ahead. So if you like what you read, please subscribe.

On a scorching Sunday morning, an eight-year-old me is thrilled again to wear my new swimming gear. My parents signed me up for swimming class, which I was habitually against initially. I like water, but I don’t when I have to fight it. Almost a week since the classes started now, I enjoy this time.

I hear the muffled voices of my trainer, Mr Das, through my swim cap as I try to follow his instructions. He shows a group of children the effect of kicking the water to stay afloat. On the sixth day today, we are still holding on to the edge, flattening our bodies and kicking the heck out of the water.

“Not so hard, be gentle with those kicks,” I hear Mr Das shout. Most of us kids haven’t learnt how to be gentle with anything. We are having fun with water, splashing it as hard as possible.

I see my dad sitting outside the pool with the other parents. They are talking, laughing, and being friendly strangers to each other. Bored with all the kicking, I want to swim in the deep pool.

I am the typical obedient guy who doesn’t do anything he is told not to. But, today, I try. As I release my hold, hands still floating just above the edge, the kicking legs start pulling me backwards. I try to hold on, but my hands slip. I see I am floating away from the safety of something to hold on to. Panicked, I stop kicking and open my mouth to shout for help. I feel the chlorinated water in my nostrils and my throat. "This is not working. I am going to die," I hear myself say. My eyes are watery. I know they are tears, but I am not sure if anyone else does.

And then suddenly, I feel a hand hold my body from below and carry me closer to the edge. Mr Das has handled many such curious kids over his career. He puts me closer to the edge and shouts, “hold that edge tight and start kicking.”

I am safe, and I can breathe again. I look towards my dad. Oh, he is oblivious of all that I just went through. I still feel the taste and smell of chlorine. Feeling terrible, I kick harder than usual.

That is when the smell of chlorine hits me again, and things start to become hazy. I look towards my dad. He and his friends are still prattling. But I see an urgency in the staff around the swimming deck. In the pool, around me, all the kids are loosening their holds off the edges. “Don’t do that,” I try to warn them. I don’t think they hear me. Even I do not hear myself. What is going on? I see myself floating away from the edge, water very close to my mouth and nostrils. I try to hold my breath, but I need to cough. I panic again. Angsty, I move every part of my body. My eyes search for Mr Das, but I don’t see him around.

My movements slow down suddenly. The commotion around is dying. The voices getting fainter, my vision dreamier. I still feel there is water all around me. I am not feeling right. At this most unfortunate time, everything goes dark. No vision. No sound. An eerie silence. "I am dead", I hear myself say.

But, I hear the faint voices again now. I try to open my eyes, the hazy chaos comes into focus. I am lying on a lawn with strangers running helter-skelter. Other kids are lying around me, motionless. A lady I don’t know is trying to feed me glucose biscuits and milk. I feel it would be better not to put anything down my throat. I am already sick; my dad would know. But I can’t see him. I feel alone, naked. I try to shout for him, but my voice echoes within me. As the chaos around goes faint, I pass out again.

I wake up another time. We are in an ambulance this time. Now, I do see the face of my dad. He didn’t swim, but his eyes were still watery. He is holding on to my hand tight with those pained yet resolute eyes. I don’t feel naked anymore. Amidst all the turmoil around, I pass out for the third time.

I open my eyes again; I am feeling light now. I find myself in the waiting area of a hospital. My dad is still around me. Though I am lying comfortably on a bench, he holds my hand very tight. As if he doesn’t want me to get harmed by an impalpable danger. The kid in me doesn’t know it then, but I know now that he blames himself for the event when he feels he almost lost me.

“I don’t want to go near a swimming pool ever, dad,” I say to him in a weakened voice.

He looks me in the eye, brushes my hair and responds, “I will never leave you alone, my son. Ever.”

The two are entirely differing feelings. But I know his promise will govern my life experiences, at least my teenage phase. I never climbed into a swimming pool until I lived with my dad. He never sent me to any place where he could not be with me. For the better part of my youth, both held on to the resolves we took that day.

Eventually, I did learn to swim the way most of the folks in rural parts of India do. I kept jumping into the water bodies until, one day, I had picked up how not to drown. The water body was the swimming pool, and I learned to stay afloat only as a young adult. But that eventful day of the chlorine leak birthed an overprotective dad, for whom the safety of his child became paramount.

I feel I have been struggling to find quiet time to read and write recently. I can blame it on many things, but I know within that I am to blame for this feeling. When I get time, I waste it. I convince myself that I need to relax first to get in the groove before I can write or read. I have been relaxing for a few weeks now, and it has only made me more tired.

This leaves me frustrated. Lazy consumption of other’s work is meaningless if it does not trigger any thought. I do that the most these days. I read, but I do not think. I write, but they are shallow thoughts. When do I spend time to churn a few ideas? To word them into something profound? You should write what feels right, I understand. But if it is only the deserts you chomp on, you won’t feel satiated after a point.

I need action, both to my mind and my body. Isn’t it curious that long phases of inactiveness can slowly wear them down? Both readily slide back to their lazy defaults. I need to be strong to push back and to make them move their asses.

Without that, what I have is a dull mind and a couch-clinging body.

Now that Drummer supports Markdown, I find it’s a nice change overall. There are times when I invariably want the power of Markdown while writing some long posts. It’s good that Drummer has that option now. I also like how Dave is implementing it – it’s just a new node type. More I think about that, it feels very similar to WordPress' block-editor, but much better and simple. Even with this though, here’s how I summarize my thought.

I do not want to unnecessarily hamper the simplicity of posting with Drummer. That lack of complexity is this system’s USP.

I use Google Photos as the store and thought that’s the only cross-platform option. I realized today that SmugMug can import the photos from Google Photos. Nice! Chances of me considering the service increases many fold. Now to evaluate the other parameters, mainly the privacy.

What are the benefits of cryptocurrency for the general public? With money, isn’t centralized control better?

A couple of years back, my daughter had written her first story from her imagination. This week she wanted to narrate that on her channel. So, that’s what she did. Another different, “non-sciency” video is out today!

Festivals are tiring, sipping away mental and physical energy. There's so much to do. And then some more. It feels as if there is no end to all the grind, the "festivities".

But when it all ends, albeit always abruptly, I wait for the next one.

Because festivals are necessary. They break the mundane, pause the regularities. I am surrounded by things deemed special, of different nature and scale.

For some, it is the dim lights in the porch. For others, it is the sparkles in the sky.

For some, it is the loud chatters. For others, it is the silent smiles.

For some, it is the crowd. For me, it is the family!

Here's to another year of togetherness during the few months of the biggest festivals around the world.

It was a wonderful festive time for me. And I wish you all a very happy Diwali!

Interesting observation this - an anecdote, sure. But curious nonetheless.

Thinner columns help you read faster. Writing speed is dominated by reading speed. If you read faster, you write faster.

Source: Write Thin to Write Fast - Breck Yunits' Scroll

How is horizontal scrolling still a thing on web?

I’ve been in festive mood since the last few days, away from all the systems I write from. I took the conscious decision to not carry any of my personal laptops or tablets I have gotten so used to. It’s been suprisingly difficult for me to get into the writing zone.

No face, yet conveys so many emotions. A pen stand I love! #stationerylove

What can I do with Alfred that I cannot do with Spotlight? There was a time when I used Alfred a lot. It got left behind when I switched to a new system. I haven’t felt the need.

The most brilliant bookshops in the world →

Perhaps most famous of all bookshops is Shakespeare and Company, the bohemian-spirited English-language booksellers situated moments from the Seine on Paris’s Left Bank.

I love this one. And the one in Bangkok. And Rome!🙌

I wish I understood Halloween celebrations better. I see so many carved out Pumpkins, I wonder is carving and the decoration part of the tradition and celebrations. It must take planning for get things in place at the right time.

I wish I understood Halloween celebrations better. I see so many carved out Pumpkins, I wonder is carving and the decoration part of the tradition and celebrations. It must take months of planning to get things in place at the right time.

Halloween isn’t celebrated in India, I believed. So when a few kids came to my door trick-or-treating, I had no idea how to respond. The festivals are going international, I need to be better prepared. Happy Halloween all! 🎃

On a regular Saturday morning this week, my daughter came to me with a topic and said that’s what I want to talk about. She had the whole script ready, with moments of jokes and all — so that’s what we record. A new video premiered today!