from mimo

Le titre du billet d’aujourd’hui pourrait être un slogan pour cette Journée mondiale du recyclage. Un slogan qui viserait les entreprises qui nous vendent des produits non recyclables. Il faut savoir que la quantité de matières non recyclables va en augmentant. Quant à la matière recyclable, moins de la moitié (47%) arrivait à l’étape du conditionnement”) et du trie en 2021, pour ensuite être recyclée.

#Économie #Environnement #Recyclage

Celles et ceux qui comme moi ont connu l’époque où tout était jeté et se ramassait dans un centre d’enfouissement ou même carrément dans le fond des lacs et rivières, voire même dans les forêts, se diront que 47%, c’est mieux que rien.

Sauf qu’à la même époque, on jetait beaucoup moins et on réparait pas mal plus.

Selon les derniers chiffres du Ministère de l’Environnement, de la Lutte contre les changements climatiques, de la Faune et des Parcs du Québec, il y a beaucoup de pertes dans l’ensemble de ce qu’on consomme.

Les Québécoises et les Québécois produisent en moyenne 25 tonnes de matières résiduelles non dangereuses chaque minute. En dépit des efforts de sensibilisation et des moyens offerts à la population, aux municipalités, aux institutions, aux commerces et aux industries pour réduire leur production de biens et valoriser leurs résidus, une quantité encore trop importante de produits de consommation finissent leur vie dans les lieux d’élimination. (Source)

Le terme matières résiduelles non dangereuses implique qu’il y en a qui sont dangereuses.

En septembre 2023, l’Ordre des juristes du Québec sonnaient l’alarme dans un communiqué, dénonçant le manque d’encadrement des individus responsables de leur mise en œuvre et d'assurer la protection du public.

À propos des matières dangereuses, une des raisons pour laquelle si peu de déchets plastiques sont recyclés (à peine 9% selon l’OCDE), c’est la présence d’additifs chimiques dont plusieurs sont nocifs pour la santé humaine.

Vous souvenez-vous des 3R (réduction à la source, réemploi, recyclage)? On insiste beaucoup sur le dernier R, alors que ce sont les deux autres qui devraient plutôt être mis de l’avant. J’allais oublié le V comme valorisation.

En janvier 2022, le Bureau d’audiences publiques sur l’environnement (BAPE), constatant une nette augmentation de l’enfouissement de déchets au Québec, recommandait d’adopter des politiques plus ambitieuses de réduction à la source.

Cette recommandation allait dans le sens du mémoire qu’Équiterre avait présenté au BAPE dans le cadre de son enquête sur la gestion et l’élimination des résidus ultimes.

Le problème fondamental, c’est la religion de la croissance dont je parlais dans mon billet du 17 février dernier (La fin de la croissance?).

Comme le souligne le Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS) de la France dans un article paru justement en cette Journée mondiale du recyclage:

La résolution de la crise mondiale des déchets ne se limite pas au recyclage. C’est l’ensemble du cycle de vie des matières, de leur extraction jusqu’à leur réutilisation, qu’il faut repenser. La recherche, moteur de l’économie circulaire

En somme, c’est l'économie qu’il faut qu’on recycle.

 
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from Roscoe's Story

Monday 18/Mar/2024

Prayers, etc.: • 05:00 – Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel • 06:00 – the Angelus • 07:15 – Praying the Joyful Mysteries of the Holy Rosary, followed by The Memorare • 12:00 – the Angelus • 17:00 – Thought for today from Archbishop Lefebvre: All of the Old Testament was preparing the sacrifice of our Lord: the lamb immolated before the flight out of Egypt and the blood applied to the lintel of the doors of the Hebrews' houses to spare them from death by the exterminating angel; the sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham; all of those sacrifices took place as a foreshadowing of the sacrifice of our Lord. They were figures of the greatest event which could ever occur in the history of humanity: the bodily death of the Creator of the entire universe. • 17:15 – Daily Prayer to Saint Joseph During the Month of March. • 18:00 – the Angelus • 19:50 – The hour of Compline for tonight according to the Traditional Pre-Vatican II Divine Office, followed by Fr. Chad Rippberger's Prayer of Command to protect my family, my sons, my daughter and her family, my granddaughters and their families, my great grandchildren, and everyone for whom I have responsibility from any demonic activity. – And that followed by the Sunday Prayers of the Association of the Auxilium Christianorum.

Health Metrics: • bw=223.70 lbs • bp= 121/70 (68)

Diet: • 06:30 – 1 banana, 2 egg salad sandwiches • 09:30 – applesauce • 13:00 – meatloaf, white bread • 17:00 – plate of fried bananas

Chores, etc.: • 05:00 – listen to local news talk radio • 06:15 – monitor bank accounts activity • 07:40 – Mel K & Anton Chaitkin | Staring into the Abyss: The Malevolence of Weaponizing Humanity to Destroy Each Other – The Mel K Show • 08:00 – start my weekly laundry • 09:00 – Bannon's War Room • 12:00 – watch old eps. of Wheel of Fortune • 15:00 – Following the Rangers / Mariners game, (and napping) • 18:00 – watch local news and weather • 18:30 – new ep. of Wheel of Fortune • 19:00 – The Absolute Truth With Emerald Robinson March 18, 2024

Chess: • 08:30 – moved in all pending CC games

posted Monday 18/Mar/2024 ~20:15 #DLMAR2024

 
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from davepolaschek

Not really posole, but it’s in the same family. And the recipe I started with was a posole-like soup that people from northern New Mexico would recognize. Anyway, it’s been changed, but we like it.

Serves: 4-6

Time: 6-8 hours

Active Time: 30 minutes

Ingredients

  • 1 C chicos
  • 4 C chicken stock
  • 1 Tbsp cooking oil or bacon grease
  • 1 pound beef stew meat, cut into ½-¾ inch cubes
  • ½ Tbsp ground ancho chile powder
  • ½ Tbsp ground Chimayo chile powder
  • ½ Tbsp onion powder
  • Salt and black pepper
  • 15oz can diced tomatoes
  • 1 bag frozen peas and carrots mix

Directions

  • Place chicos and chicken stock into a 4.5 quart crock pot.
  • Cook on high for 1 hour, then low for 3 hours, stirring occasionally.
  • Season beef with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with chile powders.
  • Brown beef in a medium skillet with about a tablespoon of oil or bacon fat.
  • Add beef, tomatoes, and onion powder to the crock pot.
  • Deglaze skillet with a can of water, then add to the crock pot.
  • Continue to cook on low for an hour or more.
  • 1 hour before serving time, add peas and carrots and stir. Add salt to taste.
  • Serve with sour cream, soft tortillas and maybe some cilantro or purslane.

#recipe #soup #posole #stew

 
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from chaosorc

How are you doing?

How's it going?

Hello cutie. What are you up to?

How are you feeling?

How was your day?

How was work?

What's going on tonight?

What are you doing?

When are you off work?

When can we get coffee?

She opened and closed message after message trying to clear all the notifications but they just kept coming. She was looking for a specific kind of message, one that said more than just a passing interest. Something that someone took awhile to craft or that said something.

You will beg me to stop.

She paused, almost missed it, everything was so bland she was becoming distracted, listening to the news play on the television while she dismissed the notifications. She selected the profile of Mark 27, nearby. She saw his corgi and smiled.

Mark, tell me about the corgi.

She texted Mary, chat?

Mary called.

Hello

Hello there

Would you ever date a guy who said, you will beg me to stop.

What? Like stop what?

On the dating app

That's his opener?

She smirked and tried not to giggle, yes

Oh Jenny, I don't know

He has a corgi

What?

You know, the dog. A corgi.

Was that in his opener too? You'll ask me to stop while my corgi watches.

They laughed, Mary stopped laughing before Jenny did.

I'm feeling a little euphoric

That's danger

Whatever

Jenny

Alright I'll pick the next one that isn't, how are you

What are you up to

They traded the questions back and forth in a mocking then monotone voice, robot men asking the same robot questions.

She swiped a few more and read them aloud to Mary and then arrived at the opener, want to listen to records? I wonder what life was like for people before all the notifications on their phones and television.

She replied, I think about people's lives before technology too, how did they keep track of appointments and what their conversations sounded like when they couldn't react with a laughing face or a thumbs up.

She sent the message and sat there feeling nothing. She could hear clicking and cursing from Mary's end, he's really going for it tonight

At least he's playing with friends

No more playing with himself

Not on the console at least


It's a movie date

They meet in front of the theater, he is there first this time. He doesn't look a whole lot like his picture. She asks for a hug and he is doughy.

Didn't your profile say you like camping and hiking and shit?

Woah, potty mouth

It's how I talk

I also like kayaking

She stepped back from him and looked him up and down.

Tell me about the movie

It is about a woman who rents a house online and when she gets there someone is already renting it. She ends up crashing there because she can't find another one and

No, I mean is it a rom com or a horror com or a com com or what

It's a horror movie

Is it funny

I guess

Cool

He bought tickets and they went inside, he opened the door for her.

Can we get some popcorn?

Movie is about to start.

She stood there looking at the concession stand, the lines, the slow moving clerks filling up bags of popcorn or fishing hotdogs off the rolling metal heat cylinders and dumping them in fresh hotdog buns.

Fine.

They sat through about twelve minutes of commercials and finally the movie started.

Looks like my room

He didn't react.

Looks like my closet

He looked at her and smiled but seemed nervous.

Looks like my tits

He didn't look at her, put his hand to his mouth and seemed to be regretting not getting her popcorn.

She stopped talking until the movie was over.

Well, that was a real one

He had laughed several times during the film, she sat quietly and looked from the screen to him and back, waiting for it to end.

Yeah, it's one of my favorite films actually

Why?

They walked out to the edge of the concrete in front of the theater, standing next to where the asphalt and parking lot began.

It was cool meeting you

Likewise

Hope to see you again

We should

He leaned in awkward, she leaned away, careful there buddy you'll hurt yourself.

She held out her arms slightly and he hugged her, then kissed her cheek.

She turned her head and her hair kept him from seeing her gnash her teeth and roll her eyes.

Bye, she waved a cartoon hand, pivot on her elbow

Later

She got home and her phone buzzed, the dating app notification said, had a great time. She left it on delivered.


Jenny laying in bed clearing the dating messages again. Hello, how are you, hi there, howdy, how are you, what do you do for fun, what kind of coffee do you like, what's your favorite drink, do you like the outdoors, do you prefer cats or dogs.

I have a fuck doll named Jenny. Real name?

She opened the profile to make sure it wasn't Mark again. It was someone with a cartoon drawing of a fox head on a brown background. She blocked it.

What's your favorite book? Mine is Dune because

She didn't read the rest just replied, a reader? Story of the Eye.

Never heard of it, the reply was almost immediate.

What are you doing up?

What are you doing up?

Jinx

They chatted into the night and he finally asked, when can we meet?

She gave him a couple of days and time that worked and he picked one.

She approached the doors to the tavern and to her surprise one came slowly open. She stepped in and looked and he was standing behind the door smiling.

Edward

Jenny

Nice to finally meet you.

Likewise.

He leaned in and hugged her.

They sat at the table and she was nervous, jogged her leg and couldn't sit still. He pretended not to notice but a couple of times he brushed her leg with his.

Oops. Sorry. Not really sorry. My fault.

The excuses became more playful, part of a flirting ritual between topics in their conversation.

He walked her to her car and she hugged him for a bit longer than their initial embrace. He smelled her hair and she could hear it but she closed her eyes and smiled and let him. She got in her car and he stood and waved, he looked like he was a bit dizzy from the experience.

Drive safe

I will

Text me when you get home

OK

At home she texted, aw thank you and I made it home safe, with a smiling tongue emoji.

He replied, thank you, sleep well.

Second date

She walked into the bar and out of the cold. It was busy with noise, people seated at plastic fold-out tables on metal fold-out chairs setting up board games, introducing themselves, reviewing the rules.

She sat at the bar, what will you have?

The bartender was thin, graying, with a flat top and goatee, a labret piercing split his lip and when he turned to fetch her drink it looked like he might have had a septum piercing with no jewelry installed.

He handed her the drink, Evan

Jenny

Are you going to play, Jenny

She paused for a moment and then realized he was asking about the games behind her.

I'm waiting for a friend.

A date?

She blushed, second.

Well, good luck, he looked at her knowingly and scrubbed at a glass with a dish cloth, then realized what he was doing and smirked, turning his back and returning to the sink.

She was halfway into her drink when she texted, is everything OK?

She looked up and a man who looked like he ate his grandfather and wore his clothes was standing there. He put one foot on the low bar rail and she saw argyle socks. She looked up and met his eyes, Miles.

He offered his hand in a strange way that made her feel like he wanted her to kiss his hand. She shook it and his hand was soft and reminded her of wet sock.

Jenny

What brings you to the game cavern, Jenny

Uh games

Me too, me too. Are you playing any game in particular?

No just waiting for a friend

You've been waiting a while

She took a sip of her drink and nodded.

Are you sure he's gonna come

I don't know

I hope he's alright

Me too

Well I'm going to go get in on Canasta

Sounds good

Socials?

She watched him pull his phone out of his inner jacket pocket, unlock it with his face, then set it down in front of her, his rubber phone case made a slight fart sound as it slid on the bar.

She looked at the search page and there were several male singers, all from the nineteen seventies, and a couple of women she did not recognize, she searched for her profile and pressed the follow button, it changed to requested.

Nice meeting you, he tipped his hat

Likewise

Back at home on the phone with Mary again, eating cereal in the living room, reality television playing with subtitles, the volume turned down.

What a strange fuckin cat

Strange dude

What are you gonna do?

She looked at the request, tapped the profile picture, his profile was also private. She tapped the ellipsis in the corner and chose block.

Blocked

Farewell Miles

I set you free


Date number four

Mary replied, four's a charm

A lucky charm

It is Saint Patrick's Day

Week

The week of green

Tell us about the lucky guy, Mary did a terrible Irish accent.

Oh boy, let me pull him up.

Whip him out, lassie.

Stop, they laughed.

OK he, oh my god

What

His profile says, short term relationship open to long, will love you long time.

Gross

How did I miss that

Too late now, you gonna ghost

No, we have been chatting and he's not that bad

He didn't offer to suck

No he did not offer to suck me

Well what's in store for the lucky lad then

You asshole

Mary waited.

Mall date.

Oh no does he not have an adult job

He does but he's off on Wednesday

Grand

Yeah it's the usual, turd gets yogurt

Turd gets the rope

Mary.

She parked by the book store and walked through the concrete corridor next to the theater. She walked past glass front restaurants and boutique shops, exercise bicycles and reclining vibrating fake leather chairs.

A skinny kid with dyed black hair, glasses with the invisible frames, and dull gray eyes was looking up at the clouds. She recognized the shirt he said he would be wearing, it said TROLLIN and had the outline of a troll doll flipping the bird with both hands.

Atticus?

Jenny

He smirked at her, looking sideways, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Sorry, it's bright out.

Is that your real name?

Is Jenny yours

I uh

Go on

Jenny is a real name

So is Atticus

So you say

He held out one of his arms, the other had a bracelet and lots of chains on it, she could hear it jingling under the long sleeve that he had pinched over his clutched hand.

What's up?

They stopped and looked at his hand.

Rings, he wriggled his fingers and his hand came out, all five of his fingers had rings with strange round balls on the tops of them like a body piercing.

Based

She leaned in and hugged him close, he was so skinny she could feel his ribs, she was tempted to tickle him.

He reacted like he was being tickled, curling his body over and pressing his shoulder on top of hers, turning his head away, and eventually twisting her loose from him and turning sideways, stepping away, lets go.

Oh, where to?

Computer store.

Verbose.

It was getting dark at the mall, just after dusk. They sat eating gelato under an outdoor heater that served as a lamp, she had the stuffed toy dog under her arm, smiling wide. He had holes poked in his sleeves, hooked over his thumbs, his nails painted black. He picked at the ice cream with the red plastic spoon and watched her.

What?

You look good.

Thanks, she blushed.

We should go somewhere

Where?

Secondary location

Is that a bar or something

You never watch those crime documentaries

No why

Oh well it was a joke but it's where an abductor takes you to commit their crimes uninterrupted

She laughed and ice cream almost spilled out of her mouth

He uncrossed his legs slightly and tilted his head down so he could look directly at her, a smirk spread across his face.

Well?

Fuck it, lets go

He held out his hand and took her ice cream, put them in the trash and walked next to her, they got to her car and he messaged her the address.


She pulled up and saw his car at the back of the lot. She drove slowly and looked around. There were cars parked neatly, most were respectfully far from one another, none parked on the white paint lines that marked the lot. She got out of her car and he was still in his, doing something on his phone. She leaned against her car and watched people approach the bouncer, each person had to present an invitation in order to be let inside.

Hey

He had snuck up on her somehow, was standing right next to her, his sleeves rolled up now and she could see scars criss-crossed his forearms, barely concealed under leather bracelets with large silver rings on one arm. His other arm had black gauze pinned with a silver medical clasp. For a moment she thought it was a cast.

What happened

We're late

He started walking and she jogged to catch up, watching his face, he looked like he was concerned about traffic in the parking lot, he glanced back at her a couple of times.

When they reached the door man he produced a white envelope, it looked like he had it stuffed in the front of his pants. The bouncer looked at it and passed it back.

Atticus strained to push the door open and she squeezed in almost sideways, her back pushing against plywood that made a strange hollow sound and shook. He stepped in and it was almost completely dark, their eyes adjusted. At the end of the hallway was what looked like a garbage bag, hanging and shiny. He held it open, after you.

 
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from yourintrinsicself

Purpose & Presence

For most of my life I lived for purpose. What can I do to help? How can I advance the agenda? What noble cause might I push forward?

As I grow older (and wiser I pray) I find myself pondering if it may well have been presence I was seeking all along. Or maybe I was running away from it. Either way it sure does seem to be at the center of it all.

I used to think I could be purposeful without being present. I was wrong.

Funny thing, though. Turns out I can be present without being purposeful.

Where are you acting out of purpose when it might be presence calling you?

 
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from Noisy Deadlines

Journaling is a habit I started in 2013. I talk more about my initial experience here.

For some time, I was doing shorter entries, like “The 5 Minute Journal” style, where I would have a template to write daily on Evernote. That was 2017.

It was also the year I moved to Canada and lots of things changed in my life. I stopped using Evernote and moved to other tools. And when I moved away from that initial template, I wanted to write more freely. So, I started writing longer entries, “Morning Pages” style.

Since then, journaling is a part of my daily routine. During the worst of the COVID pandemic I struggled to keep it regular, but I did my best. I tried some journaling services like Journey and 750 Words. I tried using a private blog in Write.as to journal. Now I journal using Standard Notes, which I love!

I never liked the idea of using a public blog to journal private thoughts, but that's just me. My inner critic is still strong, and I must constantly tell him (yeah, I don't know why, my inner critic is a guy) to go away and just let it be. When I'm journaling, I want to be as free as possible, that's why I journal privately. I really like how the website 750 Words describes journaling:

I don't need to title my entries, or tag them, or enable comments, or any of that other stuff. This is writing, and it's online, but it's not blogging, or Twittering, or Facebook status updating. This is between you and you. — 750 Words

It's been a couple of years since I've been focusing on consolidating journaling as a daily activity for me.

I'm off to a good start in 2024 🤘:

My process:

  • I protect time in the morning, before I leave to work (it could be anytime, but that's what works for me). I plan my morning routine so that I will have 10 to 30 minutes to write. Sometimes less, sometimes more. All that matters is having this pocket of time protected.
  • I do it always at the same place: on my laptop at my home office, using the app Standard Notes. I use the Standard Notes “Daily Notebook” feature with a customized note title format. It's easy to open my notebook and go right to the note of the day.
  • I set up a timer to start writing and stop when it's over. Simple as that.

Since I started writing daily, I feel lighter. I feel like I'm living more intentionally. Days are not passing by so quickly.

Because writing is an exercise in being grateful. In remembering the good things. In learning with my errors. In forgiving myself. Daily journaling has helped me go through grief and process my emotions. It's a good mini therapy session!

Sometimes I will journal when I'm feeling overwhelmed and stressed at work. Sometimes I just need to do a quick mind sweep in the middle of the day to regroup and move on. So, I open the note I started in the morning and just write some more (I can access Standard Notes via web at work).

And the space I have for journaling is all private. It's a space where I can write whatever, it's not to be censored or edited. It's an exercise to clear my mind, a true brain dump. I usually get ideas to write on my blog from these journaling sessions. Sometimes I start a draft in my journal, which will then be transformed into a blog entry.

My plan is to journal every day, a little or a lot, it doesn't matter. I don't force myself for it to be 750 words or 3 pages long or whatever. I just write how much I feel like that day. Sometimes it's a note saying how I'm feeling now. And that's enough.

I think journaling has now become more than a habit, it's a daily practice to nurture my mental health and creativity.

Post 89/100 of 100DaysToOffload challenge!

#100DaysToOffload #100Days #NoisyMusings #journaling #journal

 
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from Mothergood

i am broken in two so sad for this world and each step you go through. my heart sits in the pit of my stomach, churning restricted oxygenation, threatening tears burning

they don't deserve souls like yours they can't begin to understand mistakes you'll make, but minds like yours stand tall, take it in, learn, experience to expand.

i know our journey has barely begun yet i fear i don't have the grit needed to help us navigate, i'm tired and defeated by my own experiences unchecked egos, in pain, incinerating everything in their wake, desecrate.

i've been training all my life for depth and meaning, cultivating skills found deeply embedded in the tectonic planes, but i fall short, i miscalculated, such unpredictably shallow terrain.

i lack the competence of how to pilot the surface to hold your hand through this forsaken climb. i am so so sorry for failing you, i have no clue what to do, but i promise i won't stop, not ever, growth in endless refine.

@mothergood

#poetry #tween #thisagesucks

 
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from ldstephens

I’ve been keeping my journal in Day One since 2016 with over 600 entries.

The one feature that keeps me hooked on Day One is “On This Day a built-in memory machine for my journal. It automatically surfaces entries I’ve added on the current date in past years, taking me on a journey down memory lane every morning.

 
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from Kroeber

#001633 – 24 de Fevereiro de 2024

O documentário sobre o Herzog começa com a frase, usada com pertinente sentido de humor e lucidez, “based on a true story”.

 
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from Telmina's notes

先日、PCやゲーム機の音声をヘッドセットに出力するために使用していた「Sound Blaster GC7」が故障したことを受けて、買い換えという形でヤマハのオーディオミキサー「ZG01」を購入しました。

 Windows PCやNintendo Switchでは何ら問題なく使え、Macでもセキュリティ・レベルを落とすというリスクはあるもののどうにか使えることを確認出来ました。

 ところが問題はPlayStation 5。

 既にPS5とモニタの接続をHDMI 2.1(4K/120Hz)でおこなっているため、そのクォリティを下げずにゲームを楽しみたかったのですが、どうやら「ZG01」を介す場合はどうあがいても無理であるようです。


ヤマハ「ZG01」

 そもそも、「ZG01」のHDMIは4K/60Hz止まりであるようで、PS5をフルスペックで楽しもうとすると、HDMI接続は使い物になりません。

 ならば、「Sound Blaster GC7」のように音声をUSB経由で入力すれば問題ないのではと思ったのですが、どうやら「ZG01」では、USB経由での音声信号入力は、専用ドライバを導入可能なWindows PCやMacのみ対応していて、ゲーム機からの出力には応じないようです。

 「ZG01」をNintendo Switchと接続したときは最初からHDMIを用いていたので全く気づいていなかったのですが、PS5とUSB接続した状態では、ヘッドセットからは全く音が出ませんでした。もちろん音声以外のUSB接続機器については特に問題ありませんでした。

 仕方ないので、8K対応(これならば4K/120Hzにも対応しているはず)のHDMI分配器を探してみたのですが、リアル店舗(ヨドバシカメラ)ではそもそも見つけることが出来ませんでした。「切替器」ならあるのですが、それでは全く意味がありません。あくまで映像は4K/120Hzで楽しみつつ、音声だけ「ZG01」から取り出したいのです。

 さらにネットの情報で自分は絶望を味わっています。

 8K対応のHDMI分配器の情報を探していたところ、自分は下記の記事にたどり着きました。

 「お! やっぱり8K対応のHDMI分配器、ちゃんとあるじゃん。これで勝つる!」と一瞬でも思った私は大甘でした。マックスコーヒー並みに甘いです。

 記事の内容から、分配するだけならば問題なさそうなのですが、ここに落とし穴が。

どちらかに解像度やリフレッシュレートが低いものがつながれた場合、低い方に合ってしまう。

 ウボァー!

 ここで、4K/60Hzで我慢するという選択肢は、私にはありません。そもそもPS5の4K/120Hz出力に対応させるために今使っているモニタを買ったのですから。

 これでは、修理に出した「Sound Blaster GC7」が戻ってきたら、そちらを復帰させて大枚叩いて買った「ZG01」のほうを使用停止させるか、もしくはWindows PCとNintendo Switch(と、まだ繋いでいないけどレトロフリーク)の時だけ「Sound Blaster GC7」を使い、MacBook ProやPS5を使うときは意図的に「Sound Blaster GC7」を通すようにするというクソ面倒くさい運用にするしかなくなります。

 ただ、「Sound Blaster GC7」は既に2度故障しているので、正直これを使わずに済むなら済ませたいです。

 あと、先ほどの参考記事では、AVアンプの購入も勧められていますが、HDMI分配機能付きでなおかつ特定の出力端子側のみダウンコンバートしてくれるようなものってあるのでしょうかね? 気が向いたらそっちも調べてみようと思いますが、故障のリスクにおびえながら「Sound Blaster GC7」を使うほうがまだ気が楽なのかも…。

#2024年 #2024年3月 #2024年3月19日 #お買い物 #YAMAHA #ZG01 #CREATIVE #SoundBlaster #SoundBlasterGC7 #PC #Windows #Windows11 #NintendoSwitch #PS5 #PlayStation

 
もっと読む…

from Paolo Amoroso's Journal

I shut down Free Python Books, the list of Python books that are free to read online or download I had been maintaining since 2019.

I archived the project's GitHub repo, which is now read-only and no longer accepts contributions. If you're interested you're welcome to fork the repo and maintain your copy.

When learning Python I came across many great free Python books, so I started keeping track of them. In early 2019 I shared my list on Reddit where it resonated with many. I later published the list on GitHub and it eventually gained over 4,500 stars, about 600 forks, and over 100 watchers.

In 2023 I rediscovered my love of Lisp and lost interest in Python, which I no longer use. Hence my decision to mothball the project.

Thanks to all who expressed appreciation or contributed, and to the Python community for producing so many great works.

#Python #books

 
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from Roscoe's Quick Notes

Mid-morning Monday and this day is developing nicely in the Roscoe-verse. Traditionally, Mondays are when I do my weekly laundry. When circumstances interfere, I can reschedule that chore for a few days, but things work better when I can do the laundry on Monday. I've got two loads working their way through the machines now.

It looks like the weather and the condition of my hips will allow me to get some yard work done tomorrow and Wednesday. That's one day for mowing the front yard, and another day for the back yard. That's my plan. Hope it works out that way.

Yesterday I reopened a Twitter (X) account. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this on active for a good while before I cancel it in frustration and disgust as I've done to all my previous accounts on that platform.

posted Monday, Mar 18, 2024 at ~10:05 AM #QNMAR2024

 
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from Justin Ferriman

In late February, I re-injured my bicep tendon when working out. The pain is in the front of my shoulder where the tendons can get impinged. It's a dull, constant pain, and I lose strength for any pushing motions.

I didn’t know it at the time, but the day after I initially hurt it again, I made it worse by lifting, and then by going to two BJJ classes later in that week. I think a part of me was in denial.

The mental toll of this re-injury has been difficult. I wanted so badly to get into a solid routine with BJJ, but everything was halted before it began.

Fool me twice, shame on me…

I had this injury last year (about this same time) due to overuse of my bicep tendon from a rigorous weight-lifting routine. It knocked me out of all activities for 2–3 months, and I had to give up Muay Thai altogether. Actually, that’s what led me to start BJJ. I didn't do any physical therapy. I just rested, and then slowly started to do things like push-ups as time went on.

I’ve stopped doing any of my normal activities again, but this time I’m doing things a little different. I’m taking a more active role in my recovery so that I can strengthen my body in a way to prevent this from happening again:

  • Physical therapy exercises every day
  • Physical therapy appointment once a week
  • Acupuncture once a week
  • Massages once a week

Each week, I’ll assess how things are going. I can say that so far, I feel a noticeable improvement in the injury. It’s still there, but definitely not as pronounced as it was at the beginning. This is encouraging. Over the next two or three weeks, I’ll slowly increase the length of my physical therapy workouts to see how it holds up.

Going forward, I am completely changing the way that I work out.

The second (more important) part of my recovery is changing my entire outlook on working out so that this doesn't happen anymore.

For my entire life, I’ve always enjoyed pushing my body in various ways. Whether it was with HIIT workouts, or weightlifting, I tried to maximize the time spent. This often meant increasing the intensity.

As I am now middle-aged, I see that these workouts have a greater possibility of causing injury. Possibly due to the intensity and the frequency.

Funny thing is: I don’t even enjoy these kinds of workouts. I do them out of habit more than anything. What I really enjoy are athletic pursuits, like BJJ.

Work out to support my hobby.

Instead of working out to look good, or because it’s the “healthy thing to do”, my focus is now to simply support my ability to do BJJ. This means that I’ll only do some light resistance training on my off days, with the primary goal of strengthening and supporting my body for BJJ class. That’s it.

In addition, I will incorporate specific rest and recovery days (massage and acupuncture). I think this will help me to build a better mind & body connection. My mind has been 25, but my body 39. That disconnect has resulted in these frustrating injuries.

As shitty as this injury recurrence has been, I think the lessons learned will mean that I will enter my forties with solid health & fitness habits that are centered around enabling me to progress in BJJ.

#personal

 
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from G A N Z E E R . T O D A Y

“First thing in the morning”—Great value is placed on the first thing you do in the morning; be it slurping a spoonful of raw honey, exercise, making your bed, journaling, showering or what have you, it feels like every other person will advise you to do that one particular thing in the morning. That if you do that one thing, the rest of your day is somehow supposed to go swimmingly. Problem is though you can't possibly do all those things first thing in the morning. By definition, the first thing in the morning can only be one single thing. Which one should it be?

I'm tempted to give up and do absolutely nothing at all at this point. Spend my first hour staring at a wall or something.

#journal

 
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from Sylvia Writes

my morning poem for 18 march 2024 .

Every morning, just after waking, I begin my journal entry for the day.

It always starts the same, I write down my daily habits list, add three circles for my three most important tasks of the day, and then I draw a line, leaving about half the page open for poetry.

This poetry is always spontaneous, more so than in the rest of my day. It’s like I’m still half in dreams and half in the world and the poems reflect that.

I always write them down so fast, not caring about legibility, just about getting my poem out.

And, sometimes I love them, sometimes I don’t. It doesn’t matter though. I don’t write these to be recognised, I write them for my muse.

I write in my dawn sunlight of words breaks through my clouds and infuses me with the bright light of a brand new day full of opportunities for words to find their home

 
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from chaosorc

Because if she says no I'll look like an idiot.

Don't you already look like an idiot being single at this age?

He glared back.

What have you got to lose?

Another prospect.

A fantasy.

He frowned and looked back at her, she was glancing his way and saw the frown then turned away immediately.

What do you think is going to happen

I'll say, hi I'm Quincy, can I have your number

You could offer a compliment. Say something about her that differentiated. Otherwise you're just wandering the world saying, hi I'm Quincy can I call you later

That mock tone made him wince.

Why not ask for socials

How old are you

Andy started to answer but Fielding cut him off, it's rhetorical

He looked at him, confused.

Twenty year olds ask for socials. Kids ask for socials.

What if I'm talking to a twenty year old

What if you're not

Andy weighed it and looked for her again but she disappeared. He shifted in his seat to face the counter, a slight panic starting.

Are you saying twenty year olds don't have phone numbers

Are you saying thirty year olds don't have socials

They probably don't fuck on socials

She came out of the big black plastic looking door and it swung on its hinges back and forth. He let out a slight sigh.

You want me to do it

No


Quincy tried the door handle and it was unlocked. He squatted and picked up the box he brought with him, holding the door with his foot so he can smash his back against it.

Voices in the living room and the sound of a video game. Someone was shooting, talking loud, meet me at the jeep, north side.

He struggled with the door handle, it was a dark bar that protruded, pressed down and twisted his body sideways. He set the box just inside and closed it behind him.

His phone buzzed, Quincy can you call me

He pressed the button and Dietmar answered.

Thank god, Quincy, I need your help.

What's up

My partner is very angry

I'm sorry

Quincy sat on the edge of his bed, it was crowded with things he was trying to unpack and sort into three boxes on the desk and floor, keep trash donate.

They want to go to the mountains and I told them I must work

What do you need me to cover

They said, Dietmar you said you would make your own schedule when you were promoted. You lied to me, Dietmar.

Oh no

He fished through his jacket pockets and pulled out some lint, a ticket, and a limp plastic wrist band that had been cut off. He examined it but there was no label or date to indicate what it was for.

Quincy please, you must help me

I want to help. What do you need me to cover

Saturday

What time

The late one

Quincy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

Man, I don't want to lose that kind of sleep

Why

I open Sunday

I am sorry. My partner is very angry, they want to go to the mountains.

Yeah

They will go without me and then what will I do, what if they meet someone new, someone who is free on Saturdays

I don't think that will

I will be so distraught

Fine

What

I said fine, I will be there Saturday evening

Oh great you are a life saver

You're welcome

I will put you on the roster now

Thanks

And Thursday, they want to go to the bar, it is also at night, could you please

The word please stretched on, it was giving Quincy a headache, he pressed his fingertips to one of his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

Fine

Yay, thank you so much

It was a monotone response but Quincy took it because he needed to hang up.

Bye

Goodbye

He pressed the end call button before the whole word was out.


His eyes followed the lines of the wooden shelves, he had given up trying to understand the words on the spines of the books or the strange sculptures. The painting did not hold his interest, he knew it was supposed to be a lonely opening in an aging shed that had been abandoned for the weeds to reclaim. It was meant to be him.

Get out and meet new people

I'm not sure how

There's an app for that

Quincy nearly bit his tongue, his teeth clicked, therapist looked up from his pad a bit startled.

Tell me about that

She's everywhere

But you don't remember her

I remember enough

Is this about the clinic

It's about the bars, the drunken subway rides, the cigarette smoke in her stockings and underwear

Therapist winced

Yeah exactly

You have got to move on

I know

All these things you talk about, what do you think they mean

She is moving on

And

And I am not

Last time you talked about installing an app

Yeah but no one wants me

How long has it been up

He looked at his phone on the end table, face down.

Don't know

You should keep track

What the fuck for

To measure your progress


It was the kind of bar that was nestled in an outdoor shopping area. The walls were the kind of brick that looked slick and fake, like plastic blocks red and black, pushing the sun back and into his eyes. He held his hand up to shield his eyes and paused struggling with the heavy door under a white sign with an unlit purple neon shape on the front, a graduated flask.

Inside, people were already coupled up and the sun was still up.

He looked around and then turned to leave and the bartender asked, what'll it be

He approached him, dragged the the bar stool out, pulled its legs up off of the iron foot rest.

Jay and Bee straight up

You got it

He sat and put his feet up on the iron bar.

A man wearing a button down shirt and soft looking pants, smart leather shoes. The man sat on a stool next to him.

Quincy, an outstretched hand taken. Firm handshake, Andy.

He glanced at the bandage on Andy's arm.

What do you do

The stars are telling me to socialize but my body is telling me, go piss girl

Andy got up and left

Quincy looked around at the couples, there was no one to approach to run the plan.

He was a couple of J and B drinks in when a woman with greasy bangs that she had pushed to frame her face, they clung to her cheeks and her long sideburns twisted next to them. She wore a fake leather jacket and skirt set over a dark red corset, a matching clutch purse tucked under her arm. She produced a compact and used it to look over her shoulder while she waited for her companion to arrive.

Quincy glanced at her and struggled to focus for a few seconds, he had been looking out the window and watching people walk by on the sidewalk outside, shopping.

His view was interrupted when a man appeared, squat and wearing a leather jacket, he had a strange looking fade and dark hair pushed over to one side of his hair. He had the word EVE tattooed on his neck, it poked up from his shirt, and he wore blue jeans and engineer boots with the rings on the sides and straps.

Hey buddy

Quincy shrunk back and looked at his drink.

Two beers

The bartender fetched them, open a tab

Yeah, he handed across his credit card, a ring tattooed on his finger.

The man handed a drink to the girl with the bangs and turned back, hi there, now departing

Quincy nodded and the man disappeared into the bar, the sun was going down.

He noticed she was staring at him, her lips paused on the top of the beer bottle. The same ring tattooed on her finger.

Hi I'm Quincy, he reached out his hand to shake

Evelyn, she put her hand in his like she expected him to kiss it

He pumped it up and down twice and let go.

Nice tattoo

Thanks but it isn't

He reached for his drink and almost pushed it off the bar.

It's from a failed marriage. You probably saw him just now didn't you? Wade.

Yeah I mean

It's over. He's just my ride.

He took a sip.

And not like that, she smirked and took another drink of her beer, looking at the people in the bar and turning to face the mirrors and bottles on the wall.

He blubbered, knew he was losing her, what do you do

If you give me a chance I'll do you

I meant for work

She chuckled and put an elbow on the bar so she could face him.

What's your deal?

You know the virus

Oh, you're a ghost

He finished his drink.

Want to get out of here?

She looked impressed, sure. She left half her beer on the bar.

Quincy pushed open the door for her, it hung open but he made a show like it would spring back and catch her. They stepped onto the tile at the entrance and she looked at the television, the back of the couch, the end tables with flowers, looked at the ceiling fan and the inspirational posters on the wall, SET YOURSELF UP, FOR SUCCESS. A photo of a man on a skyscraper eating lunch all alone.

There was a low set of shelves covered with wires and a couple of mobile phones. He bent down and took off his shoes. She knelt and did the same, looking for a place to put her purse. He pushed the door shut when he could which revealed a coat rack and what looked like an abbreviated horse trough with dividers.

You could put your purse in there.

Thanks, she clutched it under her arm.

He led her to a hallway, my room is down here.

She looked to her left as she walked, the dining room area and kitchen. It had a folding table with a fake wood top crowded by folding chairs, a deck of cards and a bowl of red white and blue chips. Empty bottles and crushed beer cans in a paper bag.

His room was not much different. Boxes crowded around the bed, only one real way on or off was to crawl up the center from the foot of the bed which faced the door.

I thought about putting my pillows on that side, she was leaning back on a pile and looking at him, defeated.

Oh yeah? She held a compact and was looking at her lipstick.

Let me get you something to drink.

Please.

He left the room and fumbled around the kitchen trying not to make noise. After pulling out everything on the shelf behind the new bag of cheese he found two beers. He rinsed and dried them, found a bottle opener by the dirty coffee mugs and brought them in.

He returned to the room and she was sitting on the edge of the bed with a folder in her hands. Next to her was a pink transfer notice, release of liability form from when he sold his dream car in order to buy a more family friendly car to impress Lucy. In her hand was a receipt for expensive updates she made to the condominium before they moved in. She flipped the page and there was a repair quote for the condominium. Arguments in the making.

She looked up, what's your deal?

He offered one of the beers and she shuffled the papers around, putting them back into the folder and the folder into a box next to the bed.

He sat on the bed next to her and pulled the tops off the beer then tossed the bottle opener on the folder in the box.

Do you know anyone who is good with names?

No

Well you do now. I write down the names of everyone I meet. And I remember names long after they're gone.

Exhausting

It is but I remember every story about the person, how they made me feel, the despicable things and the good things.

She sipped the beer and looked at the boxes, all keepsakes, trying to generate some interest but her face hung flat and emotionless.

I want to remember because I see it as a sign of respect. But today people just become mutuals on social media, their music apps, they change their photo and add a new playlist. They write about things they are going to do. But, a lot of times once you have met they want nothing to do with you. They don't remember who you are.

But you do

Until the virus.

She sipped the beer again and stared out the door trying to come up with a reason to leave.

You send a message and it doesn't even go through because you are muted, they don't get notifications, or you've been restricted and they're never going to search for you and scroll through your desperate please for attention, to be remembered.

Can I have another? She tapped the empty bottle with her fingernail.

He handed his to her, he hadn't touched it.

She took a sip and set it on top of a box with the word BOOKS scrawled in black marker. When she turned to face him he was looking at her.

Humans are functionally extinct, she was staring him in the eyes, she brushed his hair back with her hand and leaned in.

She did her best to brush all of her piercings against him, especially the ball in the center of the tongue, she sucked his tongue in and peeked through her dark lashes to catch glimpses of his facial expressions as she ground the tip of his tongue on that stainless steel ball like a cigarette.

Lets fuck

He nodded and they began frantically pulling off their clothes.

She had his cock in both hands and rubbed at it from the sides and then from the top and bottom and it was only semi-hard.

What's the deal my dude?

He looked down and watched her, then looked up into her eyes, he stared at her exposed breasts and then looked at the dark between her legs as she leaned forward, straddling his lower hips. He put his hand on her hips and ran his hands all the way up, cupping her face, then sat up and kissed her. He got a little bit harder.

Lay down

He got on top of her and closed his eyes, kissing her and rubbing his body against hers. Her piercings scratched against him and he shuddered, let out a sigh, and was able to sit up and get the condom on. He pressed it into her and she smiled, taking him in. She reached up a hand and caressed his chest, fingernails through the sparse curls. This made him harder and he began.

She hadn't moaned or produced any reaction as he slapped his hips against hers.  And she looked him in the eyes when he came, then a sadness spread across her face.

He lay on her for a few minutes, holding her. She put her hands on his shoulders and stared an empty space on the wall by the window.

Why don't you have any pictures up

Just moved in


He woke in the morning to birds chirping and sun coming through the blinds. She was wriggling down the bed and had just put her feet on the floor. He watched from his side as she looked for and gathered up her things, pulling on clothes and preparing to leave. When she stood up he sat up, let me walk you to the door.

Sure

When they got there he retrieved her phone from the charging stand then stood in his boxers and held it out, waiting. When she took it he looked her in the eye, socials?

Her mouth curled with disgust and she looked from his nose to his chin to his hairy chest and then the floor. She tried not to look at his boxers.

Sure.

She unlocked her phone and opened the social media app, selected a list of her accounts and paused.

He turned around and got his own phone off the charging station and waited.

She selected one and went to the main page and looked at the most recent poster, it was from four months ago.

She went back to the list and chose a different profile.

What's up?

Oh nothing just a text from my mom, give me a sec.

The second profile had a photo from six months ago but it was of an ex.

She went back to the first profile and then to the search page, handed him her phone.

He searched his own name and requested access. She took his phone and did the same. They exchanged phones and he leaned forward to kiss her. She obliged, there was no tongue, she looked him in the eye again, a look of pity. He seemed desperate like he wanted to ask her to stay.

Gotta go, she pulled the door open and looked at it for a moment, confused that it did not try to close on its own. She reached around it and grabbed her purse, he took one last look at her ass and legs as she was bent over, the phone in his hand out between them.

She waved two fingers at him and pulled the door shut, he heard her heels click the concrete as she disappeared into the bright morning.

She left his place early in the morning and immediately blocked him. She pulled on her sunglasses and stepped into the light, looked right to left to figure out the fastest way to her rideshare.

After she ordered her ride she went back to the social media program, opened his profile, selected the ellipsis in the top right corner and chose Block.


Quincy got home and his roommates were watching a game on the television. He kicked off his shoes and opened his bedroom door. On his bed was a white envelope with the word Remember.

He stepped out into the living room and a commercial with cats being herded across a river played. What the fuck is this?

I don't know

They were eating popcorn, each had a beer in hand. Tank top undershirts and chinos, sock feet, relaxed.

It was on the doorstep and had your name on it so I chucked it in there

The other two were looking at something on their mobile phone, a sports meme maybe.

He held up the invitation, this doesn't say my fucking name.

It's got you written all over it

The other two laughed at the meme, his roommate was smirking.

He closed the door of his room and pulled the plastic firearm container out of his laptop bag. It was brand new, smelled like a new car. He unlatched it and looked at the sharp black angles of the pistol inside. He put the invitation on top of it and closed the case slowly.

 
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