윤

I’ve been tracking my sleep with the app religiously for the month now, and while I got the impression it had a pretty good handle on my REM, last night’s series doesn’t seem properly reflected in the breakdown. I could’ve sworn I returned at least thrice to the same class or group of people after waking, the first in such an agitated state, alas, with no recollection of its cause, that I was certain my heartrate would have spiked. And perhaps it’s only more evidence of the time dilation that occurs in dreams, but my last outing, where I fearlessly ascended a wall by hand-screwed bolts (a premonition of or motivation for finally assembling my “걸쳐 culture” rack), definitely felt longer than the three minutes recorded.

Luckily the 6-year-old X is still compatible with the newer watch to track yet more information from my heartrate, whose accuracy I can really only gauge from recognition of my dreaming state immediately upon waking. Earlier this morning we were on a plane (just having completed our Spring Break trip), when I noticed, from a view up front and not through a tiny window above the wing, that it was flying far too low and would need quite the pull to avoid the oncoming buildings. Instead, however, the captain made the audacious decision to land with no nearby airport, careening first through a chain-link fence, of which I knew lesser vehicles were capable, but the brick wall that followed, that left only our cabin intact. Apparently there was a medical emergency onboard that prioritized this reckless act above the safety of all the passengers, though one Black woman with a cancer-stricken daughter didn’t think so. Don’t remember much of anything from my return to REM sleep later except that a news broadcast referenced the crash.

2023 brought with it news that the new series from the husband-and-wife team who brought us Dark wouldn’t be renewed (which corporate cost-cutting has ironically made a considerable concern despite all the competition for content), and while the first season hadn’t convinced everyone that it would be something just as special, I did enjoy my late-night viewings on the old couch, overcoming my hesitation about the period setting, appreciating the confluence of languages where before there was only Deutsch, and certainly relishing the dream-like transitions between realities through the crawlspaces.As exquisitely as they crafted the imagery, this was a quality production, the way I like my WTF, because the creators got a chance with their vision and ambition. Shame, I was relieved more than anything those two threw us for a loop on their maiden voyage and I was expecting no less than another from them, especially after pulling the ending straight out of the shitty US remake of Life on Mars… Wait a minute, Ashes to Ashes ended with “Heroes”, and so did Regular Show?

Just when I thought I was out of weekly TV to watch with the end of Inspector Koo, they pull me back in with the next season! It’s a short one, unfortunately, but then again I’m grateful they don’t drag out the painful reign of the Belter egomaniac between the larger threat beyond the gates. There’s always something, right? I’m reminded of times when this nearest of futures was uncertain, but not only do the content providers always manage to come through, somehow, more miraculously, one of their committee-driven products gets me.Novels had a satisfying finish, thanks Libby! (I’m reminded of blowing through the Ice and Fire books on the Kindle, but the OLED screen’s a vast improvement, as fond are my memories of that device. The service-free unlimited Internet was not long for this world.) Looking back at them I can see the story arcs comprising the narrative of a game it was originally intended, with the player as Holden. An MMO might have had to delve into the 30-year gap or extend the war between universes, but that ending was straight outta Final Fantasy, tentacles and all.

Rebound after the Line of Duty series (6) finale, police drama in the other part of England that give or take an iPhone, looks like it hasn’t changed in 50 years. I couldn’t find but the last episode of the second season—er, series, but it seemed more of the same, protagonist and criminal bumbling along, no grander scheme in mind other than self-preservation. Which I suppose is alike everywhere, even at work, where I was in my dream, fulfilling more of my staple IT duties, stopping with my bundle of paperwork at various stations throughout the office to take short naps, my way of distributing them without overindulging and maintaining the all-important appearance of industriousness. One of the characters jumped to his death at the end of Happy Valley, which carried over to a sad fellow who did the same in my building, except he did so with a bomb strapped to his chest and triggered it just as he passed my window. The explosion sent me flying headfirst in slow motion toward the remaining wall and I hoped it would at least be enough to get me out of the rest of the day.And if I were ever to return to a desk that’s dusted by the cleaning staff at night, I’d like to resume my reputation for techno-macabre with a faux body mod like this attachment, which reminds me of Zaphod’s third arm being used to operate a digital watch スマホ while my left could be free to help open sauce packets.

This was a form of torture to which I was to be subjected—for what or by whom I don’t think was ever identified—but it caused me very little dread, even if my toes were completely removed, maybe because running is blackening each nail and flip-flops have all but ravaged the soles of my feet to where they no longer seem part of my body proper. (Speaking of which, losing those Reefs on the curb and never being able to replace them was one of my many experiences teaching me to stock backups against discontinued product. Latest example are wired headphones, but soon it might be the Lightning adapters for them.) Like the universe is taking me back starting at the borders.

Update: Legs felt heavier than ever, and made it an effort to lift each one, like my heart wasn’t getting the bonus coordinating the work anymore. There’s barely anything left to my stride. Could the safe zone be closing in on my extremities?

At least, this was my version of it. Somehow we were taken 50 years into the future to downtown Los Angeles, where empty stone buildings were warm to the touch and the snow felt like that fake sand at Brookstone. I guessed that it was radiation, and that we were already doomed from our exposure to it. Our phones had no service, as one might expect, and things were too alien for any hope of contacting relatives. There were cloaked strangers around, who seemed not to understand us too well; when we asked one local representative how to reach our families in this time, he said nobody was left, without explanation. Maybe a nuclear holocaust had wiped them all out? A mutant with two heads talked to me next, supporting that theory. The girls in the bar responded to my Japanese, but had little in the way of faces under their hair. And Marcelo managed to find a Mandarin-speaking fellow who brought in some ancient equipment for our iPhones, but they were only chargers. We then traveled out of the city, into more green than I remember, but the only landmark I had to indicate our general direction was a long-lasting Chinese restaurant.

I had convinced myself to put off upgrading from my 3G until this year’s new one, but news is it’ll be larger than ever, and while I used to think that a cellular-equipped iPad would be the ideal solution, maybe the smaller form factor of years gone by is worth revisiting. This Sony Ericsson might allow me to explore Android, and I seem to have only have fond memories of the T610. Choices change; the decisions don’t.

As out of it as I may seem sometimes, my attention will always be there for a mobile app that purports to take you to another reality of some greater import. Perhaps it goes back to waiting for all my cellphones to ring, beating X in a dingy Japanese youth hostel fortified by warm はちみつレモン, or thinking the low-battery antics on my Mattel Electronics Auto Race meant that something special was happening. To me. This time it’s called “Shadow Cities” and what I like (assuming I’ve read the conceit right) is being able to conquer your own block, virtually, and “call” everything in it, at least in your own mind.