Gruber, a blogger and podcaster with a passionate audience among Apple fans (and executives), thinks Apple will eventually have to relent on at least one of the App Store policies former CEO Steve Jobs instituted years ago: Apps can’t tell their users they can buy something — say, sign up for the paid version of an app or buy virtual currency for Fortnite — outside of the app.
In practice, this means developers that don’t want to sell through the App Store — such as Netflix and Spotify, which sell subscriptions to their streaming services on their own sites so they don’t have to give Apple a cut of their monthly revenue — can’t tell app users they can do so when they open the app. Instead, they have to just hope users figure out how to do it on their own.
I’ve been pretty ambivalent about the Epic vs. Apple trial, but this is one rule I never ever liked. Prohibiting developers from even breathing the fact that there are other ways of buying their products or services from within their own app always felt petty and stupid to me. If this one change does actually happen, then I think that’s a win for many people.
Aubrey stopped me and asked me if I would like to have my fortune told.
“Sure,” I said.
She pulled out about a dozen Pokémon cards and fanned them out, their backs to me. “Okay,” she said, “pick just one card but don’t look at it.”
“Okay.” I scanned my hand over the cards and picked one near the center. I did not look at it.
She grabbed it from my hand, looked at it for a bit, then showed it to me. I only saw it for a brief second before she pulled it away and said, “In your future, you’re going to get a dog!”
“A dog?” I said. “When will I get a dog?”
“Hmm,” she said, thinking about it. “When you’re fifty!” And then she ran away.
The 1st grade teacher was nearby and overheard the whole conversation. She laughed and said, “Yeah, you’ll be so sad and lonely at fifty that of course you’re going to get a dog.”
“Damn,” I said and laughed along with her.
Chalk art from last week that has since been washed away by the rain
I looked up and saw Aubrey and her big smile looking up at me. I froze and watched her grab my hand. She closed it into a fist, then grabbed my thumb and stuck it out. She grabbed my other hand and did the same thing. I stood there frozen in place with both my thumbs out, and I heard Gunner laugh behind her.
“Now stand like this,” Aubrey said. She stood on one leg. I did the same, and all the kids around us started to laugh. I must’ve looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care.
“Okay, you can unfreeze now,” Aubrey told me.
I did as she commanded and went on my way, a silly smile on my face.
Ashley, another of Aubrey’s classmates, is afraid of me. I’m not sure why, but every time she sees me, she freezes in place, as if she thinks I can’t see her if she doesn’t make a sound. Lately, when other kids see me walking around, they yell, “Ashley! Mario!” and Ashley looks around and freezes in place once she sees me. Other times, she falls on the floor and plays dead. All I can do is laugh because I have no idea what else to do.
Last week, some of the kids started to shield her with their bodies and say things like, “Nothing to see here,” or “Ashley isn’t here.” I laugh and say, “I see nothing,” and continue on my way.
I find all of this so adorable and weird and nonsensical that it has made my life that much richer, and sometimes I can’t wait until recess just to see what these silly kids do next.
Last week, I received two gifts by two teachers and friends I work with. The first was this wine by our 5th grade teacher:
I laughed out loud when I saw it. It references a few inside jokes that I won’t get into here.
And the next one was this beer by our 4th grade teacher:
Other than the fact that I think the elementary school is trying to turn their tech guy into an alcoholic, I appreciated both gifts. I’m not at all a wine or beer connoisseur, but I found both got me sufficiently drunk, so I highly recommend them both.
It’s May, and nature is coming alive. Last week, I went on an early morning walk to the park with my camera and found everything green and wet and full of life. It was my first walk in a long time, and I missed it. I miss the feel of my camera in my hand, the weight of it, the heaviness of the lens, the feel of my backpack on my back and my hoodie over my head. I miss how my senses are heightened as I scan my surroundings, looking for my subject, of the thrill of the hunt. I miss the sound of the shutter, of pressing it after composing my shot, of getting down close and in the face of nature, of getting my sneakers wet, of blowing into my hands to keep them warm. This is life, and I miss it.
I’m at a crossroads, I think, and I don’t know which path to take. I’m looking back at the road I’ve travelled and wondering if I took a wrong turn somewhere. Should I go back or should I keep moving forward? Should I see this through or should I reconsider? I’m full of doubt but also of excitement. I can do anything I want, and that sense of freedom is scary and invigorating. Who do I want to be? What do I want to accomplish? I don’t know, but I want to find out.
I’ve been here before. It seems like I end up here every time I start questioning myself. Questioning myself is good, I think. It means I’m always looking to improve. It means I’m paying attention to my life and what’s happening around me. It means I’m at the peak of one mountain and I’m looking up at the next one. But sometimes I just want to rest and have someone else take the reigns for once. Unfortunately, I’m on this road alone, so I have to pick myself up and keep going.
May is my birthday month. I’m a year older, a year wiser, a year closer to death. Sometimes my mortality scares me, but other times, it doesn’t. It forces me to look in the mirror and decide who I want to see. Who do I want to see this year? Does it matter? As long as I keep moving forward, it doesn’t matter.
For Mars, 46, giving up his company’s independence is a major professional and philosophical pivot. Joining SiriusXM means leaving Radiotopia — a network of creator-owned podcasts Mars co-founded with the public media company PRX in 2014 — which he has regularly championed in the credits of “99% Invisible” as the home of “the best, most innovative shows in all of podcasting.” Mars said he will give $1 million of the money he is earning from the sale of his company to support the rest of the Radiotopia roster, which includes smaller but well-known podcasts like “Criminal” and “Song Exploder.”
“I’ve been devoted to independent podcasting for a really long time, and I still believe that there’s a role for that in the world,” Mars said. “But my role right now is something different, which is to spend more time on the show and on making things that I love.”
I’ve been a fan of “99% Invisible” for a very long time, so of course I’m happy for Roman Mars and his team, especially after the last year, but part of me worries about the consolidation the podcast industry is experiencing right now. I trust Roman Mars enough to believe he thinks he’s making the absolute best decision for himself and his team, but I don’t know.
With the backing of Stitcher and SiriusXM, Mars said he hoped to continue producing ambitious work — without the strain of handling the financing himself.
“With a bigger company, I can do more things and not be fettered by the small business mentality,” he said. “Hustle less and make more.”
Artists need patrons, but will some part of his soul suffer because of this? Will he still have that fire now that he doesn’t have to worry about money? That’s really hard to say.
I do wish him luck, though, and I’ll keep listening.
I woke up the other night thinking about my mortality again. I thought briefly of my father and of him lying on his deathbed, of how he’s been gone for almost 13 years, of all the life he has missed since then, of my life he has missed, or my lack of life, in all fairness. I thought about my life and of its ending, of how short it all feels, of how much of it I’ve wasted, of the purpose of it all. I wrote about it in my notebook this morning and had a good dialog with myself about it. I’m trying to get back on the road, but I lost my way a long time ago. It’s going to take some time to find my way again, and that’s okay.
At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. I haven’t felt this aimless and purposeless in a long time. I wanted to move away around this time next year, on the 10th year anniversary of my living in Montana, but I’m afraid because I don’t know what I would do for money or where I would go. I’d be out of debt by then, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’d bury myself in debt again if I do leave. I like my job but I don’t want to do it forever. I’m in my mid-30s now, and the thought of working here for longer than a few years horrifies me.
Is this what I wanted to be doing in my 30s? My 40s? When will it end?
In Why People Photograph, Robert Adams writes:
There is the joy to be found in a landscape experienced with family and friends…To hear one’s name, and the invitation, spoken with the assurance you will together see the same gift—“Look.”
I can’t wait to travel again, to go there, and say look! at everything I see, but I don’t have anyone to share those experiences with, to share those moments of majesty and wonder. I haven’t had anyone in a long time. In my notebook, I wrote all the names of all the people that have come and gone in my life, and I’ve never seen them all written together before. It terrified me. It terrifies me. It makes me dwell on the everlasting forward march of time and how I can’t stop it. One day this will all end, and the question I ask myself is whether it was worth it.
There’s a verse in Breaking Up Slowly, a song on Lana del Rey’s wonderful Chemtrails over the Country Club, that goes: Are these my good years or do I have none? / Are there really good years for everyone? / I don’t wanna live with a life of regret. It’s sung beautifully by Nikki Lane, and these lines have haunted me all day. I don’t wanna live with a life of regret but regret seems to be the only emotion I know how to feel.
Notes
I added my reading page today, but I haven’t added it to any part of my navigation yet. Not sure if I want to, so consider it a “secret” page. I’ll try to keep it updated as I read more books.
Notes
Wow, Nomadland was beautiful. I’ll be thinking about this one for a while.
