Krebs does it again with the most reasonable take on the security crisis of Supermicro and the complex supply chain we work with today.
I exchanged thumbs up with a Lotus driver, me in my Miata. It felt like we had a driving bond. I feel like a giddy kid who gets the insider. Ahh.
Closing my exercise ring today on my lunch walk felt so rewarding. I’ve exercised more and cared more about my diet in the last three weeks than in the last 5 years. Maybe it’s my improved headspace, maybe it’s the Apple Watch, maybe it’s the right fitness class, or a nice combo.
Anyway I look at it, this is fitting progress.
Sometimes I feel like the presence of a cat serves as a foil to a conversation, a way to hone in your thoughts without having to deal with the present. The distraction cat. Hah.
Hat tip: Always have Waze on in DC. It’s inevitable that you’ll get a red light or speeding ticket. What a racket. These cameras are not even accurate always and create a big incentive for companies to sell to governments to help them press punitive charges.
“The waves can be your cover, the beach can be your pillow
My heart can be your house, my eyes can be your windows
To teach you how to swim and then we’ll play Nintendo
Be with all of your friends, dancing to the tempo
Go Alan, go Alan”
—Alan Forever by Lupe Fiasco
God damn, this one made me tear up.
“Dios es mi droga, si no a qué soy adicta”
“God is my drug, if not what am I addicted to?”
— Drogas by Lupe Fiasco
Apple Music served up some Miguel today, a flashback to his hit “Do You…”. Is it just me or is my headphone melting into my ears. Ufff. 🎧
Helloooooo True Detective. How have you been‽
My camera on my Samsung S9+ is fantastic. The speed…not so much. So much sluggishness, everything from launching the camera, to using Android Auto, and basic interactions.
I’ve never been so excited for a new iPhone to come out.
I’ve been coughing up a lung, feeling quite sick for the last few days. My fever has lingered like a bad girlfriend, refusing to let go. I’ve ingested smoothies, cereal, and medicine to quell the symptoms. So far, it feels like there is a road to recovery. My illness is slowing down. But it’s not quite there yet.
The clock was ticking this morning. I had to get into the office. It’s been a week since I got on my relatively new bike, a 2001 BMW R1100R. The bike was calling my name, beckoning me to ride.
I pull on my gloves, strap on my helmet, turn on a song in my headset, and get on my bike. The BMW is large, a monstrosity with cool, curvy lines running through its body. Its black paint is stained with scratches and streaks. The odometer read barely over 10k, a sign of a bike still yearning for more road time.
I mount the bike, trying to get my leg over the saddle and on to the peg. I shift the weight of the bike, gripping the handlebars. I feel like I could drop it at any time, the 500lb beast. But, like rocking a child gently, I balance the bike between my hips, and press the ignition button. My BMW begins rumbling, waking up without a fuss. I shift into first gear and slowly release the clutch. I flash back to my motorcycle class, “Open the mouth, feed the baby. You’ve gotta do both at the right time.” I twitch the throttle, let the clutch out, and ride off to the stop light. I wait at the red light, the music playing through my headset. I’m mouthing a countdown, a few agonizing seconds with a voracious engine between my legs.
Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Just as I feel the impatience crawl under my skin, I get the green.
I let the throttle rip. The RPMs jump from 1000 to 4000. I’m hitting 3/4ths to the rev line when I shift to second gear. I slam into third. I let the engine roar. The wind is exploding past my helmet. The MPH gauge reads 40, then, 50, then 90. It probably went higher but I didn’t dare look down. I flex my bike on a sweeping curve on the George Washington Parkway. I flash my right signal for a fraction of a second before I lean into the lane. The music in my helmet rocks with the rhythm of the road.
I go over a small bump and feel its reverberations past my lower back. The bike stays compliant. The chassis is responsive and agile, willing to play at the tug of a handlebar. The BMW gets louder and louder as I rev higher and higher. I let out a laugh, and smile, remembering how much I love motorcycling. I trim my vehicle past cars, curving along the exit to get closer to my destination. I pull up to my workplace and kill the engine. I lower the kickstand, push the bike into Park, and pull out the key.
I take off my gloves, turn off my headset, take off my helmet. My hair is in a tussle, wimpy strands that need a band to hold them back. I walk in to work and gave my morning salutations to Mrs. Gloria, the front desk assistant. I went into the elevator and felt my heavy breath. The adrenaline, my blood rushing, the smile that I couldn’t wipe off. I walk into work knowing that today, inshallah, was going to be a good day, cough and fever be damned.
“I wear a time only analog watch to actually feel a sense of time.”
I love this perspective by Om Malik, a small nugget in his analysis on the Apple Watch.
I haven’t thought of watches as a reminder of time’s passage. I always just pulled out my phone for the time. But, this consciousness, a slow down of time, an awareness of time, of time’s passage…hmm. Interesting.
Some weeks, it’s a miss, but most weeks, man, the Favorites Mix on Apple Music gets me in the right mood.