I straightened up the kitchen, had a shower, straightened up the bedroom, and then migrated myself and my laptop into the kitchen, at the desk/island. A standard computing position for this hour of the night, as I feel most "at-home" and comfortable sitting at the desk/island. It's just "where I belong" in the apartment most of the time, I feel.
For whatever reason, old music popped into my head a bit ago - Methods of Mayhem, Limp Bizkit, Kid Rock - a bunch of goofy (almost comical) acts from the early-2000s. And conveniently enough, they all collaborated at one point on the Methods of Mayhem album (by Tommy Lee). Some of the music was fairly catchy, but most of it had preposterous lyrical content, and nearly all of those artists are now relatively obscure. Except Tommy Lee - he had Motley Crue fame to fall back on.
I don't know why I remembered the music, but there it was.
what do you know? What do I know?
Ever sit and think of all the stuff you know? Like all the bits and pieces of knowledge that pop into your head? Or the things that pop into my head? It's weird.
I once heard that Michael Alig (former "King of the Club Kids", who then murdered someone and went to prison for 20 years), had done looong stretches in solitary confinement, which I am sure was horrendous and painful (not pitying him, exactly), but he said the way he "got through it" was to: think of something he knew about, start talking about it (aloud, to no one else), and from that point on, keep talking about everything that he knew about until he couldn't think of anything else to talk about anymore. And he (apparently) did that every day. Hell, indeed.
But, the sentiment resonated with me a little bit when I heard it, because I sometimes feel that this is what this blog (and tmo) is, at times. Like, I am just saying all these things that come to mind, and kind of "freestyle write", and usually have no means to and end when I am hammering the text. Sometimes (rarely) I have a specific, focused thing I plan on writing about, but usually it's just "free writing", so to speak. However, I am not doing this to cope with solitary confinement or some form of "Hell", I am just journaling because it makes me feel good, useful, better, in some ways.
I still have that lingering heartburn from earlier. Never really subsided. I drank a lot of water, but I am not sure if that is helping. Either way, more water it will be.
Nice evening, I'd say. 44F, slightly breezy, and the apartment is filled with fresh air. Delightful.