Tick Tick Tick

Kin and I are back in New York after a few days up north in Blue Hill, visiting Fred and Emily -- and now my mom, whose "mother-in-law" cottage on their homestead is finally complete.

Me, I am a big city girl, and while Poppy has always lived in a big city too, she absolutely loves the meadow behind their houses. (Kin captured lots of video of her romping.) I walked the meadow with them once -- ONCE -- and returned covered in ticks. (OK. Two ticks. But still. Fuck that.)

On Friday evening, as we were sitting around the fire pit, Poppy saw fireflies for the first time, which along with a full length mirror in the hotel room on the way north, absolutely blew her little doggie mind. She is exhausted and glad to be home -- or at least glad to have her own couch back, which she doesn't get yelled at for sitting on, which has a "reserved for the dog" pillow, and which she rarely has to share with anyone else.

Kin brought the bike and sidecar north with us (he rented a pickup truck for the trip), so the two of them accompanied me on my runs -- very very hilly runs, let me note for the record, on which we saw a chipmunk and a deer and a fisher (at least we think that's what it was). Poppy would whimper and whine if I got too far ahead, I guess worried that I was in danger, although she did nothing to protect me -- not from the chipmunks and not from the ticks. (She got none on her?!) She definitely operates in a heightened state of "watch dog" when we travel, which I imagine must be confusing and tiring.

Ostensibly, the trip to Maine was a vacation, but the whole week felt incredibly busy -- before, during, and here we are after, not quite sure if we’re wrapping up or kicking off the week. It all bordered on being over-scheduled, and much like the dog, I'm not sure I feel rejuvenated at all as we head into a new week / new month. I guess that's how "vacation" sort of works though -- you try to relax knowing that every moment of "unwinding" requires substantially more "winding up" on your return.

Kin traveled down to Philadelphia on Monday to meet with his new business partner, Jerome. And then Tuesday was his 53rd birthday. Although I adjusted my workout schedule for traveling, I still had a lot of work to do: the usual newsletters to write, as well as my "Fighting the Broligarchy class" (the incredible Dan McQuillan was the guest speaker) as well as a call with some folks from the International Baccalaureate program, for whom I'm doing a little bit of consulting work. (“Self-employed” means never getting a vacation, I guess.)

Today's the last day of June and I can hardly bare to look at the calendar for July as I have still more consulting work, two speaking gigs, two big writing deadlines (in addition to the regular newsletter writing), and a triathlon. Marathon training starts today too.

I have a coach for this, my first marathon -- a human coach because I put my money where my mouth is, which is not huffing on the fumes of algorithmic bullshit. That said, my human coach, being human, hasn't given me my training schedule yet. She says she’s been sick. We meet in person on Wednesday, and perhaps I just need to wait until then. But I hate not having a routine (hence the challenges of traveling, no doubt); and I hate not knowing what the routine will be. I need to know so I can pretend I can control things.

Someone jokingly called me "ed-tech's Cassandra" a long time ago, and the moniker stuck. But I admit: I don't have a lot of clarity about what the future is going to entail, particularly as I am so desperately hoping that it's not AI-enabled techno-fascism. (Funny how many people in ed-tech are pretty blasé at that being a strong possibility, so wildly naive about what all this AI is going to bring forth.) But there was good news this week -- such a rarity these days -- as Zohran Mamdani won the Democratic primary on Tuesday, handily defeating Andrew Cuomo.

I think we're seeing the end of neoliberalism. (Or at least I hope so.) But what will replace it? What will replace a global political/economic world order that's been around since the 1970s? Will it be the democratic socialism that Mamdani (and others, of course) represent? Or will it be fascism? I know which side the tech industry has chosen. I know which path the GOP will take. The Democratic Party, on the other hand, seems hellbent on hanging on to neoliberalism, as does The New York Times and many other legacy media organizations, many trying to hustle some "abundance" bullshit to prop up their dying world.

Me, in the media: on Jennifer Berkshire's podcast; in the Salt Lake City Weekly; in Jacobin.

Me, in Second Breakfast: on Faith Kipyegon’s attempt to break the four-minute mile (and what it means to have companies sell us stories about “human capabilities”); on Zohran Mamdani’s win (and then some less savory news about the usual AI and ed-tech silliness).

Me, eating: Kin and I ate at Hawksmoor for his birthday dinner. Kin said he wanted steak, so I chose a British steakhouse, which I'll admit I was a little worried about because, well, “British.” Hawksmoor is probably best known for its sticky toffee pudding, and that is Kin's favorite dessert. (Plus, we’ve already eaten at the iconic Keens. Plus, Keens was recently sold.) Our meal was very good. (Phew.) Kin ordered the ribeye. We had potted beef with Yorkshire puddings and onion gravy, as well as some bone marrow and a beet salad to start. But damn, that dessert. There was nothing particularly different or even unique about the pudding -- the fundamental recipe wasn't altered. No “twist” on sticky toffee pudding. But the caramelization on that sauce was just so so good -- the best sticky toffee pudding I've ever had (and we have had this dessert quite a bit, and I sometimes make it, but like many things, I can now say since we live in NYC “why bother?!”).

Less stellar, no surprise, was the Taco Bell we ate in the car on our trip northward. I had a Crunchwrap Supreme and a beef taco and an absolutely massive Diet Pepsi, of which I took one or two sips. Kin got the chicken gorditas (I think). It was all very mediocre, as expected — neither good nor bad. I don't know how to describe the flavor other than it tasted like "Taco Bell." It certainly didn't taste like Mexican food. There was no spice, no seasoning at all. It just tasted like... Taco Bell -- more of a textural experience than a flavorful one. (That texture is “mush.”) But here's what truly upset me: our meal was thirty dollars! I thought fast food was supposed to be cheap, and you can get two Halal carts for less than that in NYC. (And thanks to soon-to-be Mayor Mamdani, Halal cart might get even cheaper.)

Road trip snacks were mostly a success: Nabisco makes these "Snak Sak," bite-size versions of their cookies. I bought the Oreos and the Teddy Grahams, and with the smaller size, you can sort of get over how disappointing these are, how the junk food of your childhood cannot live up to the fond nostalgia. I also bought some cherries, which were very good (and ridiculously expensive but actually cheaper than Taco Bell.) Poppy was a little confused by the whole spitting-out of the pit process, as this seemed like scraps of food that we were wasting. I offered her a cherry; she preferred the graham cracker bears.

Maine food: we had donuts from The Holy Donut in Portland. They were fine. I prefer yeast donuts to cake ones, I reckon. We had breakfast at Tinder Hearth, a bakery in Brooksville where my nephew works. I ordered the cinnamon bun, but once again, I think prefer a different recipe -- in this case, soft brioche dough, covered in icing, as opposed to this one, which was more croissant-like. I also got a savory scone, which absolutely sucked. And, of course, we ate lobster.

Do I even like lobster? Honestly, guys, I'm not sure. It's a lot of work, and I'm always a little yucked out by the entire process -- the buying, the cooking, the cleaning, the eating. But I always feel obligated to say “yes, I’ll eat lobster” when I'm in Maine -- a "when in Rome" sort of thing. I mean, hell, it's cheaper than Taco Bell!

Among the items my mom brought with her up to Maine were two boxes of "stuff" for Fred and I to go through. She's already scanned a lot of old family photos and sent them to us. So these boxes were mostly other papers of ours that she's kept for decades (and decades and decades): a lot of Honor Roll certificates and newspaper clippings and programs from band concerts. There were some real gems in there -- two rejection letters from magazines for submissions that I'd totally forgotten about (and what a blessing, to forget rejection!); a report card from a PE class in which I clearly bombed the shot put, the long jump, and the triple jump, receiving Fs across the board, as well as some timed sprints in which I was also roundly terrible. And look at me now!

My mom had saved a lot of her report cards, as well as her mother's report cards -- these were incredibly amusing to read, partly because, unlike the US school system, these all had narrative rather than letter grades. What was Granny like as a small child; was she the same Granny? When did she become the woman I knew?

I'm really interested in the idea of "narrating the self" -- you know, the whole "change your story; change your life" sort of thing. And I do wonder how much this process of handing over thinking/reading/writing -- all the key components of narration -- to AI are going to really undermine our ability to know ourselves, let alone know and care about other people.

All I know how to do is write. Sadly, one of the documents not saved was the standardized test that told me my best and only career option was "freelance writer." There was an aptitude test, however, that put me in the bottom 10th percentile for clerical skills. And it noted that I should probably not pursue a career in the sciences, since science seemed to make me unhappy. Amen.

Yours in struggle,
~Audrey