3/7 Jealous for rest. Newburgh in the afternoon. Dinner at The Ridge, Highland. German Pork Goulash, served in the way of a TexMex Rice Bowl. The chef understood the essence of German cuisine and reproduced it. I don’t actually like German cuisine much, for me it is obviously simply the most ordinary cuisine of them all, but this dish was surprising, it awakened all of my childhood, and with each bite I wished it would never finish.

3/6 There are now two rooms left for living in the house, neither of them has any place to sit down, and J immediately turns them into a new music studio, from which she broadcasts a TikTok Live. I contemplate visiting my wife for a few hours this weekend.

3/5 The workers did come today. We left the house to them in the morning – a grey morning with persistent rain and the last dirty patches of snow stubbornly holding out – the brightest thing in this morning was the red permit they taped to the front door. I chickened out to Manhattan. When J got back after work, she found the entire beam structure neatly exposed as if in an anatomy lecture.

¾ The workers did not come today. Misunderstanding. They will come tomorrow. Because I had already booked it, I went to the coworking space nonetheless – a somewhat overly stylish compound in a deserted part of town that’s just about to wake up to gentrification.

3/3 On the same day – in rain and sleet – I registered the car (after searching, in somewhat of a panic, for a print shop in Poughkeepsie for a final document I needed for the DMV), renewed license, mounted plates, had the car inspected, the oil changed and wheels rotated. Will spend the evening getting some last things ready for the workers who arrive tomorrow to replace the core beam of the house.

3/2 After the transatlantic flight in an almost empty Lufthansa Airbus, I drove J into the city (some 45 minutes), then continued to Newburgh (a little more than an hour). Maybe I shouldn’t feel so astonished about continuing in the car, on the highway, after a flight across the ocean. Others land at JFK, pick up their luggage, check it back in, and go on to another flight to Texas or Anchorage. Maybe that’s just what it is: a sufficiently routine traveler, a sufficiently grown-up citizen of the earth could go on traveling forever, in whatever mode, and get sleep and rest along the way in whatever form it may be available. The truly homeless existence.

3/1 The persistence with which Claude urges me to consult a human doctor about my back pain is interesting. I wonder about the reverse. What if a human doctor’s first question was: Have you already talked with an AI about that?

What’s annoying about aging is that you only realize it through injuries that take much longer to heal than you’d expect. Why can’t it just take a little bit longer first?

2/28 My son builds a plane in Minecraft. Watched Melodifestivalen (this is turning completely into slapstick in Sweden). Mars Game. J and he work in Suno past midnight to compose a mini opera with politically incorrect content.

2/27 Gothenburg. Chinese Car. Another plane moving in parallel with us as we approach MUC. Villages in patches of fog – none between villages –, the alps in the background.

Sudden severe back pain from lifting J’s wheel chair into the car. I may be lucky and it’s only a muscle strain rather than a herniated disc. Seriously, this never-ending, ever increasing trickle of injuries is getting on my nerves.

Helping my daughter with math questions. I am now officially DadGPT.

2/26 Jeep logistics. I drive her Jeep into the city so I can park it in the garage, then she drives my Jeep into the city a little later to pick me up for the airport, where we leave my Jeep in the garage so we can take it into the city on our way back, where I drop her off at my apartment so she can take her Jeep to work the next morning, while I drive my Jeep to Newburgh in the night.

JFK looks like they chose to rebuild it on the moon. Lufthansa business class. J happy.