|Honing in on owning home + not to rome so much
6 Feb 2019 | Munich airport> Reading Time + Free Will by Henri Bergson, "an essay on the immediate data of consciousness".... lots of thood for fought, dives rite into the qualitative/quantitative naychair of sensorry purseption, perhaps a bit unsighingtific (grantid he rote the book in the 19th centshorey) when he sez perceptions such as pane, joy + sorrow ain't quantifiable, cuz on sum molecular level they probly cd be, but yes, the perception of emotions is relative + aint measurable + in the case of attributes such as "grace," this is mos def the case. Bergson makes u stop to think x2 about things like grace, sumping that perhaps we take for granted as a word, but man, what a concept when u ponder it on a timeline, of suckssesive motions, each feeding into the proximate. "Thus the perception of ease in motion passes over into the pleasure of mastering the flow of time and of holding the future in the present." And then he relates this to music, how when we submit to a beat that governs the groove, "the rhtyhm and measure suspend the normal flow of our sensations and ideas by causing our attention to swing to and fro between fixed points, and they take hold of us with such force that even the faintest imitation of a groan will suffice to fill us the utmost sadness."
+ still listening to our «Homer ovacoming Sisyphean mementos + moments of inertia, in keeping farword momentum» mixtape from last week, to get us in the mindset for our house hunt:
C, the reason we's D.C. bound is cuz we's searching for a home, so this Homer mixtape still fits the bill as does Bergson's Time + Free Will. Mustering to git into mindset to make a sound choice, to remove impediments ether way—from the fear of not taking the plunge to the rashness of reacting on impluse (the dubble integral of momentum, for those that aint physicsly inklined) or in the in-between limbo of indecision, a frayed to plop down a buttload of dollhairs.
On the plane we also watched Bohemian Rapsody (2019), Blakkklansman (2019) + Almost Famous (2000), the last of which we refrenced in our post from a few weeks ago on failure + the currency of uncool, tho on the plane's version they excluded the classic crash landing scene, so we'll watch it now.
8 Feb | D.C.> Hit the grnd runnin' searching for a home, so no time to riflect on mush Ls. Not sleeping mush nether.
9 Feb> So, we bot a home, in typickle Sound Furie fashion. Toured around the 1st day + didn't see much that struck our fancy. After a few minutes in the 2nd or 3rd house on the 2nd day we said this be the 1. We'd bin scouring Redfin daily for a few weeks + seen things come + go before we even got a chants to see 'em... well this 1 came on markit morning of, on Redfin for no mo than n hour so our agent tells this guy we came all the ways from Rome kin we see it please + we saw it + knew others was a'coming + there was an open house the next day so we made an offer on the spot aksing if they cd pull it off market for 24-hrs while they reviewed it + they did. Guess the owners was off hiking sum where + couldn't be reached, but by next morning (+ another sleepless night for us) they accepted our offer, so now we's offiishally homeowners! Tho we haven't closed, so maybe we shouldn't jinx us. But we took the plunge... after a combined total of 99 years (between both Sound Furies) on this planet paying rent, we're gunna pay rent to ourselves, a mortgage, which is kindof a creepy word, like a gauge of death. We'll reveal pics + locale in due time, suffice to say the street it's on gots the same name as our favorite band (in singular form). Ok, here's a sneak pique at a light switch:
|# 620 <( current)> 622 > Floating notes on a mortgage calculator where the heart layz|