It rained this morning! We woke up late, to good air, and enjoyed coffee on the deck for a couple hours with my parents.
All week I had these notes about how horrible being outdoors was. The things I wanted most were to be able to open a window, to step outside for more than a second, and to enjoy a few moments of quiet without the constant hum of air purifiers—as grateful as I am that we have them.
And here we are. I’ve been outside. The air purifiers are off or running on very low. The sun peeked out for a minute. It’s cloudy and cool and comfortable.
A new level of madness was spending a week indoors due to bad air—Friday through Friday—without even having a place to drive to for a break due to a pandemic.
We spent several nights doing laps in the house to music for 45 minutes to an hour just to get a walk in. Who are we!
Still picking through Orwell’s essays, one by one. This time on Kipling.
His outlook, allowing for the fact that after all he was an artist, was that of the salaried bureaucrat who despises the “box-wallah” and often lives a lifetime without realising that the “box-wallah” calls the tune.George Orwell, Rudyard Kipling, Horizon, February 1942
The footnote attached to “box-wallah” reads:
Strictly, a peddler, but in the context applied derogatively to those working in commerce in India.
The term made me think: “what are the odds this is why Dishwalla is named Dishwalla”. Sure enough, Dishwalla’s drummer confirms that the band name comes from an old issue of Wired.
Turns out it’s the second ever issue of Wired with this article.
Lajpat-Rai is a crucial link in this vast republic’s exploding market for satellite television – and a central supply port for a new generation of opportunistic entrepreneurs called “dish- wallahs”; wallah being a common Hindi phrase which translates to something between “hack” and “specialist.”“Dish-Wallahs“, Wired, April 1993
I have spent way too much time thinking about Dishwalla over the last month.
From the other room just now: “do you want to touch raw beef tongue?” 😂
Of course I did. Tacos tonight!
Dan Coats, former director of national intelligence, appears quite a bit at the beginning, which made his op-ed on the election slightly more interesting this week for some reason.
Rest in peace, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. May all current and future jurists—I mean, everyone really—be inspired by your life and your work.
My Own Words is now on my short-term reading list. I’m looking forward to being inspired rather than enraged.
60 some hours until fall!
Time for a whiskey. 🥃