Red Bull pool vortex clip triggers a Krauthammer memory. Shallow-water reflections feel deceptive, so diving stays off-limits.
Halo 3 skulls and Hayabusa helmet nostalgia hit hard. Gaga’s “Hair” and a Trump-plot headline sharpened one rule: write simply, no shame.
Cuomo and Adams: no NYC surcharges; dignity comes from jobs. Sleepless in Seattle winter hits; the diary is the magic.
Augustana’s “Boston” becomes a map for leaving baggage behind—two people caught, caring, and pretending not to. The hook lands as a concrete plan: first earned dollar since 2017, a clean restart away from surveillance.
Halo 3 with Dad sparked Microsoft loyalty; Scarface played nearby. Trump felt kinglike; a B-2 flew by, ending on a cheer.
AWOLNATION’s “Run” and “Sail” played while I skimmed a ChatGPT bomb glossary. It brought back Singapore F-16 awe near Lee Kuan Yew.
Terminator 2 on LaserDisc resurfaced beside Fox News. It became a snapshot of Dad’s shelf, ending on snakes and doubt.
Shawn Ryan on Tucker led me to Trump’s book discovery. Taylor Swift’s “Florida!!!” and a quote reframed it, ending as diary fuel.
Windsurf felt like magic with “You Can Do Magic.” A Fox News Iran screenshot and Trump watercolor kept me focused, ending grateful.
I updated the website, queued a Stripe test invoice. Saint Elmo’s Fire played; “Hypnotize” and an ACLU photo framed the night.
BBC’s first female MI6 chief impressed me; Trump–Israel–Iran headlines lingered. “King James” lyrics nudged mercy, ending: “we will offer humanity.”
Fox’s Army 250 parade framed pride in Hashani’s US Army captaincy. I joked about Delta Force, then chose croissant in Kiss-Marry-Kill.
Scarface Horses, Iran ChatterScarface quotes and a MacArthur video looped beside Fox Iran headlines. A Steve Jobs line reframed it, ending: write your own diary.
Elton John’s “Imagine” sparked a reflection on gay service members. I pictured Arlington headstones, insisting love and patriotism deserved equal honor.
An Affair to Remember opened; French lines weighed lies. A WSJ Trump clip hit: “Enough with the nice,” ending in boss mode.
Lana Del Rey played as an LA protest burned an American flag. It made me miss old America; I kept faith.
Dehiwala’s stolen macaw headline hit as Blue Oyster Cult played. Fox clips and cannoli cravings pushed me to drop problems, reset.
True Colors played; a tuxedo scene said, “I could come with you.” “Don’t Fear the Reaper” followed, ending with a backward goodbye.
A Fox Harvey Milk rename story sparked a defense of gay and trans rights, with Madonna nostalgia. Taylor Swift’s “But Daddy I Love Him” closed it.
You’ve Got Mail pushed my web app to launch. Right Here Waiting played; I wished Sri Lanka felt like that café.
Trump “Fight” memes, kids books, and Bingo filled the day. You linked songs, wanted a lawyer, then ended with a Samael joke.
I quit Facebook and coded nonstop to deploy. Exhausted, a screaming face on a map lingered as I imagined treats and change.
