Chris DeLuca

Spotted two people flying with their cats this morning.

On my way to California for two weeks. I’m really excited but hoping this is my last trip for a while.

I found this seashell in the grating of the radiator (seen behind). I know the previous tenant must have accidentally knocked it in but my first thought was that the heat was an ancient seabed.

My white hand holding a classically scalloped seashell with dark red coloring in front of a baseboard radiator.

Another entry in the AI Novel covers series. Here’s the generating prompt:

Generate an image of a fake novel cover called “Illegal Touching by Jillian St. Basketball”. It is a sports romance novel.

An AI generated novel cover. It shows two attractive young people embracing on a basketball court. On the left is a dark skinned man with slicked back hair. On the right is a white woman, leg up, with flowing hair, as if in a breeze. The man grits his teeth strangely, and the woman's expression is skeletal somehow. The man holds a basketball over the womans butt, but the angle is all wrong. Two hoops are in the background, and they seem to melt, and are too close to each other. People with melty faces sit on the court. The book is called "Illegal Touching" by Jjlliain st Basketball

What is going on with that basketball? And why is the guy’s teeth like that? Melty hoops I understand.

Currently reading: The Last Colony by John Scalzi 📚

Started last night. Thought I’d take a break from the Old Man’s War series, but was feeling a light fun novel last night so keeping on!

A desk caddy corner in a bare walled room. The desk has two levels, one for the monitor, and another for the keyboard. It is light, processed wood. On the left is a mic arm and audio deck on the lower level, and headphones and canned air on the upper level. In the middle is a 26 inch acer monitor on the upper level, and an old magic keyboard and even older wired mouse on the lower level. The lower level also sports an abstract, colorful star patterned mouse mat. On the right is a mac book pro sitting on top of a laptop stand, clamshell closed. There are various dumb stickers all over it. A mug of coffee and a water thermos sit on the far right on the lower level.

I put my desk together yesterday. It’s missing a support beam underneath (I must have accidentally thrown it out in the frantic move), so the lower level wobbles, but I figure I can replace it with a two by four. In the mean time, I have a dedicated desk and large monitor for the first time in nine months!

Snow is sticking in New York for the first time time this year.

A three story brown stone building seen from a window on the third floor of the opposite building. A light dusting of snow coats everything. It’s especially visible on the fire escape. The sky is steel grey.

A great map of the independent web, assigned to categories you can look up by clicking. What you’re reading is part of the “Personal web” but there’s so many interesting nooks. Folder poetry? The feral web? Let’s go.

Susuru Ramen in Astoria is absolutely incredible. I had the garlic oil Kuro. Great broth, noodles cooked just right.

A bowl of ramen with garlic oil on the side, pork slices, a soy sauce egg, chives.

In defense of slowness.

Because the job is not to know; it’s to become. A sociopath knows what kindness is and how to weaponize it; a saint becomes it.

Finished reading: The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi 📚

The tri-boro bridge during the day, shot through a glass elevator shaft.

Stale cigarette smoke is a deeply nostalgic smell for me, even though I never was a smoker. I don’t get to smell it much anymore, which is probably a good thing, since it’s still pretty gross.

I’ve performed in countless improv shows, but tonight will be the first time I’ll host one. Wish me luck.

There’s a dude eating almonds from a plastic carton on the bus, which I don’t have a problem with, but at first I thought they were pistachios and I did have a problem. Who can explain my brain.

Finally, I’m using AI for its intended purpose.

An AI generated colorful image in the style of 1960s pop art. It features singer Wayne Newton dressed as Batman, hands on hips, grinning. An old TV with possibly Wayne Newton on it sits to the side.

Where have all the websites gone? From Jason is spot on. Don’t click the footer.

Anyone remember soap on a rope? I don’t, but Chuck-D rhymes it, so it must be real. Sounds like it would be exactly what it says on the tin, but I refuse to Google it.

My sister and I maybe thirteen years ago. I really chose all that.

Two young white peope standing awkwardly next to each other. The woman on the left, my sister, has long red hair and smiles somewhat uneasily. In the right, is me. I have a red shirt that doesn’t quite fit, khaki pants, a grey blazer, and on my head is a floppy, misshapen dark green fedora. I have a thin, untrustworthy beard. Unkept curls sprout from under the hat. My expression is haunted. We are in a kitchen.

I’m making friends at my new apartment.

A cat stretched out on my lap, toes flared, head dug into my side. She looks at me with one eye. Her expression looks extremely happy.

Some mornings, you just want to listen to Jive Talkin’ 🎵

I really relate to the calm a careful, iterative, and high standards approach to work Dries lays out in The Watchmaker’s Approach to Web Development. In fact, I think it’s a big part of why I have a career.

After nine months of couch surfing, I’ve been able to move into an apartment. I’m so grateful to everyone who hosted and supported me and to my new wonderful roommates. I’m very tired.

My co-worker Pauline shared this poem from Mary Oliver, and it hit me hard. Truly beautiful.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

New year, new underwear. I should make this an annual habit, instead of every decade.