Kevidently

@kevidently.bsky.social

Author. Artist. Admin. Bruce Springsteen is my higher power. Black & Trans Lives Matter. Ambition, drive, caffeine. I block AI. Hire me for terrific graphic design! He/him https://linktr.ee/kevidently

A delightful Wusong Wednesday, in which joy can only be measured in tonnage. Some of my favorite people in one of my favorite places having one of my favorite times. Also: I love “Quiet Village” so much and it’s the exotica equivalent of thinking David Corenswet is attractive and I DON’T GIVE AN F.

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The sweat arena is sizzleplexing and I am electrolyte-maxxing with a puzzling liquid known as arctic cherry, whose origins are murky and whose properties are hypothetical.

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The harpoon is the newest addition to the Sea Stories Lounge and it looks astounding. Some of my question, the wisdom of doing a physically and mentally exhausting task at the end of the night when you’ve been awake since 5 AM, but apparently not me.

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The pretty rage machine that is the treadmill. I get on thinking about how I’ve had to go through all the shit I’ve been through and now I’m 51 and why is there still shit to go through. And at the end: a tiny bit of catharsis. I’ll take it.

The dichotomy of weekday mornings. Hardcore HIIT It and Quiit It workout in the attic, then wind down with coffee and throw myself into the life of the mind. I also have a treadmill workout before my day job starts, so it’s a whole situation.

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Work doesn’t stop just because you got angry. Kindness and happiness doesn’t slow down just because you have inner rage. You still say congratulations to a bride putting a Just Married sticker on her car. You still do laundry. You still make art. I can still make the whole place shimmer.

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I want to do a short thread because I'm annoyed, and it's really my own fault, but I might as well talk about this: Whenever bikes or public transit comes up on here, there's a subset of people who either go full strawman (WUDDABOUTADRUGS) or lie about being one, and I'm sick of both.

Scansion v Textual Assimiltion: an examination wherein I explore Taylor Swift saying "sorry" in a Canadian accent in "Bad Blood" and Barenaked Ladies saying "sorry" in an American accent in "One Week." In this essay

The anger always needs a place to go, because it never goes away. I get my rage out by working out. Then I can be functional again. But Jesus Christ, I just want to be happy.

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Back on my HIIT It and Quiit It BS, after a weekend of hedonism and a rollercoaster of emotions. Hoping for a good week. The rain is trying to thwart me, but I’m still hoping.

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Having a wee Planter’s Punch to cap off the night. I’m snacking on cheese and indulging in libations past my intermittent fast time, but hedonism sometimes demands late nite delight. Watching yet another documentary on Los Angeles history and chillmaxxing.

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