The third iteration of Doug Bolden's various thoughts and musings.

Tag: nostalgia

NYTimes’ Connections’ “hidden” community

Current musical mood: Cephalo.

Sharing my own results today rather than a screenshot of anyone else’s material but in doing so realized I hit 777 Connections with a 44 streak and that seems fun.

I’ve thought about commenting on this topic for a while and today feels like as good as any for it but one of the fascinating things I have found as a longish-term player of NYTimes’ Connections puzzle is that there is a long-running community “hidden” in the comments section. A comment section I doubt many even really see.

Obviously, it’s not really hidden or I wouldn’t say jack about it. It’s just a group of folks who mostly share feedback on puzzles and the art given in the hints section but every once in a while it bubbles up into something interesting and unique.

Today is 11 September so quite a few of the posts are talking about 2001. In the past, though, I have seen a college student calling out for help due to homesickness and depression — with older folks giving actually helpful advice — and I have seen people talking news good and bad. There are some people who post stuff pretty much every day or weekly. Very nearly a blog with fans who follow and comment along.

Today I scrolled down and found there’s someone doing a kind of music puzzler thing with folks playing along. In a place “meant” to talk about solving a specific puzzle for a specific day.

It’s fascinating. And it takes me back to a period of time before we were all shunted into the Mass Approved Social Network Places™ and phrases like “subreddit” and “Facebook Community” became algorithmically controlled and billionaire spawning short-hand substitutes for events which have been happening since prior to the broad-release of the World Wide Web.

Back when you might hang out on an author’s website, a product forum, or a city page a few dozen people were active. Usenet groups, IRC channels, and mailing lists about all sorts of topics. Local BBSes about a music scene. The varieties were endless.

Never really private — though sometimes a bit invite-only (I was in some 90s RPG writer groups more locked down) — and how toxic vs nice they were was entirely down to whatever handful of members settled first. With plenty of members who hated the off-topic chatter while the boring silence without it was deafening.

These little fragile bespoke communities under constant assault from spambots, in-fighting, and the eventual heat-death of their tiny universe when whatever admin running it retired or had to retire the software due to security issues.

In that in-between living like dandelions growing out of sidewalk cracks: all down to the auspices of wind and rain.

Subreddits and Discord Servers try to emulate this but are something else. Built to allow it rather than simply watching it grow. With mods and multiple bullet-point lists for rules.

Flowers planted in a field rather than finding purchase in an empty lot.

Brandy Senki’s “Coming of Age” [MVP #15]

The second entry in my MVP Brandy Senki week is probably the song I think of the most if I just think of the band.

It’s called “Coming of Age Story”:

That musical shift right past the 1 minute mark is like…love poetry for the ears and brain. Thank you for writing those notes in that order.

The Nathalie Scarlette directed music video is a perfect exemplar of that not precisely uncommon trope: the imperfect memory of youth’s faux perfections. A nostalgia bait video about the kind of day that some people might have had but in general never fits into our actual experiences. A glory just out of reach. A self-lie.

This childlike need to return to an Eden from which we never fell informs so much of our literature and music that we barely noticed that a multi-billion dollar algorithmic industry grew out of the desire to profit off our false impressions of loss.

There is a stage in our life when we look back upon our youth and we judge our present on our past and it is not uncommon for us to realize we had been holding on to something not only not there but also somewhat never was.

Which is not to say they do not have some grains of truth. Stupid days with friends were magical. It is simply that the magic covers up all the flaws and downtimes and stupid fights and the rest.

The lyrics encapsulate this mood shift (note: English language taken from the Youtube video)…

This is the worst
I’m not good at coming-of-age story
Even though I’m still here in this story
I felt the agony of teenagers that’s left behind
Can’t be hasty
Can’t be hasty

The pain I was exposed to
is ignored and just turned into sound
I think it’s my last chance
I just want to see something beautiful
Please

drift into later on…

It just ends while I’m still sitting down
This day
Gradually these feelings turns to lies
Can’t understand each other anymore

Are you angry?

Before she repeats that just wants to see something beautiful.

I think a lot of us feel those moments. In some ways, social media and the way it traps us in our old pictures and old videos and old posts make it worse. We lose that bit of ourself that was right there in that “coming of age story” and see it replaced with the social-version that was never us. More “perfect” and more “planned” but absolutely never quite as beautiful.

My Music Video Picks [MVP] is a series of posts highlighting various music and dance videos from Youtube (usually). No particular schedule (sometimes lots, sometimes little). It might not even all be music or dance videos. Absolutely picked by me, though. Usually I have to like both the song and the video, but we’ll see.

You can see the most recent songs here: [Doug’s] Music Video Picks [Youtube Playlist]. Size of that list will change as the mood strikes. Playlist might contain spoilers for unpublished posts. Just enjoy.

The Devil Has a Lot of Fairs in Grimbergen + Pooping on a Train a Decade Ago

We seem to get a lot of sunshowers [LGT: Wikipedia] here in Grimbergen, BE. The weather mix where it is raining while sunny.

Back in Alabama, I feel like you’d maybe see it once or twice a year. In Belgium, I’ve already seen a good dozen times over the three months I’ve been here. I have no idea if it is normal, or if I have some magic touch. Though, since the Flemish word for it seems to be Duiveltjeskermis (Devil’s Fair), “magic touch” might have a cursed connotation there.

You can probably not see much rain in either photo. Consider this something like a trust fall.

It’s also non-Summer Belgium, so you can barely see any sun. So it goes…

Three fun facts in which one is a follow-up of another:

(1) I had the window open [obv] in that second photo and while taking the picture, noticed the wind had shifted enough that it was starting to blow rain inside. Before I could shut the window, a quantity of rain poured all over my radiator, electric cords, power bank, and so forth. I had to rapidly shut everything down and unplug stuff while still covered in rain water.

(2) Whenever I see sunshowers, the Southern US phrase “The devil is beating his wife” pops in my head, which is frankly some Punch and Judy-level nonsense.

(3) Only that specific phrase doesn’t. My brain loves to say “God is beating His wife.” Which is potentially more blasphemous, though I’d argue that the extra-Biblical depiction of “The Devil” is plenty enough to go around to start.

Anyhow, the linked Wikipedia article has lots of fun phrases. My second most used, after “X is beating his Y” is “fox wedding” because I’m a weeb at heart.

I did have to check, though, because I was sure I had blogged about this before. Which I have. Though it seems like the actual discussion was on my old Livejournal, which has gone the way of Punch’s baby.


BONUS PHOTO: Pooping on a Train a Decade Ago

Ten years ago, today, Kaz and I were on our way to Providence, RI1. It was a nice trip. Since one part was visiting H.P. Lovecraft’s graveside, I might post during spooky week.

That photo shows our toilet in our compartment. If you notice, it is right up against the seat. Meaning either you had to sit next to the person pooping or you had to sit across and stare them in the eyes. Good times.

That’s not even the worst “toilet business on a train story” I have. The worst was on a trip back from New Orleans when I was trying to pee. I was standing because I was not trusting the cleanliness of the shared seat. The train took a corner at speed which caused me to slip a bit and, well…

Sorry, Amtrak folk who had to wipe that down. I did do my best but it was a bit past what you could accomplish with train-quality toilet paper.

You can go ahead and put the “whoops” GIF here, too.

  1. The photo was tagged by Google as being exactly a decade ago. It might have been the day before, since I would have had to get to a good connection to upload it. ↩︎

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