041 B - Low battery

We spent our first night in the new rental house. Almost all of our things are here. Knick·knacks, hair, dust, dried effluvia remain in the old one. If we don't get the Rona, we'll be out in the next week.

The fire alarm is screaming in “competent beta male" that the batter compartment is open. I opened it to stop the traditional ear shattering plosive followed by “Low battery” in what should be the Ur-voice for the current trend of incest porn.

I'm wearing sound-canceling headphones made by large company A. The fire alarm is made by some large company B. Is there not a company C that could provide data from B to A so that A can better cancel the sounds of B (or provide different sound with more data perhaps (targeted to that device - this has got to be what's up with the little speakers -- its really a microphone sold as a speaker)), or whatever; so the slacker can pay $9.99 a month to better ignore their failing smoke alarm. And the free version uses ads. Periodically when you start moving around a lot an ad kicks up “Looks like you're onto a new activity, let's reinforce consumption”. I guess that's what all the watches are for.

I'm exhausted. I feel without context to hold onto reality. I will sense that something is acutely wrong. I will feel absolutely justified in my reaction to it. I then realize I am not justified. I then realize that the thing that was wrong was supposed to be wrong at that momement so I'd do what I did and now things are right. But I can't remember that. I'm so goddam tired. But I'll add with proof-of-life intentions that I'm very happy that we are here, joy is possible even as hope evaporates leaving its gooey stain.

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