Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
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Check!
I found this in my iPhone's reminder app this morning. I have no memory of making it, but it seems like a pretty good plan for the workday.
First workout post op
I managed to get some writing done while I was wandering through the brain fog after melanoma surgery, but I wasn't allowed to do any kind of exercise. And honestly, I wasn't in much of a mood for it. I felt pretty demotivated.
My PT, Darren, came around this afternoon, however, and we loaded up the barbell for a deadlift session. It feels like the engine has kicked over again.
I did a bit of a climb up the ladder and back down again.
Saving face.
My bachelor holiday was rudely interrupted by surgery this morning, the excision of the sneaky little melanoma that decided to set up shop on my left cheek.
Quite a bit more cutting and sewing than normal. 81 stitches by the time my dermo was finished. The chicks are gonna dig this scar, let me tell you.
I had all these big plans to come home and crank out some words, because I’m a hard nut. Or maybe just a nut.
But I took a few pain killers and fell asleep instead.
Bachelor week
I find myself temporarily lonesome in the house for the next two weeks. Jane's down in Sydney for work, and both kids are travelling overseas together. So it’s just me, the dogs, the cats, and all the manfood I can eat.
Signage.
I wrote the forward to a time travel anthology a while ago. And for my sins, they sent me a bunch of bookplates to sign.
These things sat in my PO box for a while because the email from the editors telling me about them got swallowed up by Apple’s latest iOS update—which has turned the Mail app into a bit of a bin fire. Eventually, though, the team tracked me down and said, “Hey, you’ve really got to sign those bookplates.”
Cat-astrophe averted.
I've had my noise-cancelling headphones on all day because there’s major demolition happening—both across the street and on the property behind us. It’s been a huge and constant racket.
But what really had me worried wasn’t the noise. It was Willow, one of our cats. She’s usually banging her head against my office door by lunchtime, demanding to be let in so she can sleep wherever the hell she wants—usually right on top of my keyboard. But today? Nothing.
Zuckdate
I wrote to the US law firm running a class action against Meta for IP theft and got a good result: