I'm on a jazz-and-waffle high right now.

Just got back from funk night at Wally's. First time I've heard a synthesizer played; it was a big red box with half the surface covered in knobs, sharp comps on the right and percussive accents on the left, then simultaneous double-octave runs with wrists fluttering madly too fast to see, a hummingbird on Hanon. Bass player throws some Beatles quotes in; crowd packed into the dim little bar cheers, swaying and clapping as the singer wails and bends and folds into a swinging angular pile of limbs pointing towards the drummer who is blurring sticks and cymbals with his eyes closed, guitar player leading the crowd in a backbeat clap.

Bike back in. Alex making waffles. Matt has already eaten 5. Break out the mascarpone and fig-cocoa jam and spread it on one that's just popped off the griddle; others follow suit, waffle-fig-cocoa-cheese combo a hit. Maybe mod projector to use fan with magnetic bearings so it's not so loud, says Jon. I pull a knot out of my left palm, type a little, pull a few more knots out of my fingers, stretch. A bit of work, and now I'm on a work and jazz and waffle high.

I love working at a place that has more textual information streams than I can process. No matter how fast I push my reading abilities, I can't keep up with everything; there's too much useful, interesting, well-written text. I love this. I'm learning how to prioritize my information intake now, and how to speed it up, and when not to, and when it actually matters to meticulously follow a conversation trail (this happens very, very rarely) and basically how and when to go Pareto on this kind of thing. It's a quick study for me, since I can transfer a lot of my strategies for auditory input triage to text, and my lack-of-bandwidth coping strategies for audio conversations are very honed and well-evolved indeed.

Jon's bass guitar is sitting next to me and I'm picking out the bridge to "Sir Duke" during RSI breaks.

The night is good.