Notes are published on WordPress as micro posts
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Sources include… the likes of Are.na /micro-entries, song notes from my Synesthesia map, quick mood updates on status.cafe, reprinted special.fish logs, recommendations shared FYI, and on a blue-moon Mastodon, Daft Social, and river to go with the flow.
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A poem written for Red Square, which I made for HTML Day 2026.
The Cure in one ear.
A Forest in view,
in the other: fear.
My feet refuse.
"No, God, please no! No! No! Noooo!"
Afflicted, I clown.
Unease, full mast!
I wish to slow down.
Must things move fast?
I've missed the echoing
drums, loud enough to hear.
This r-rabid f-f-feeling!
I rewild with a tear.
Okay. I want to call someone out for being an a-hole. Their writing is impeccable, funny, matter-of-fact. But it’s easy being contrarian when you’re nobody online, hiding behind a mask. It’s the path of least resistance.
I hate how disgustingly good the writing is. It pisses me off.
You can proofread a million times, but the moment you hit publish, every single error shows it’s rear.
there’s a gnawing, familiar feeling bubbling inside of me. when the weather changes,–I feel like a bunny rabbit in a somewhat frenzy. unable to sleep, just sort of stirring around. for almost 7-ish days, what feels like a life-time, every year–like clockwork, it rains non-stop without letting up.
A gift and curse it is
to sense elements with ease.
In other news, I’d like to share my physical book collection with ya’ll. *tilts imaginary cowboy hat*
End of last year, I decided it was finally time to catalog, and so far I’ve been happy with LibraryThing. I’ve got ~900 more books to add…
I have been thinking about: How many books make a library?
Fac aut noli facere; conatus non est.
I am sitting in a room,
all the walls are mirrors,
& the only perception
left to extinguish is mine.
I haven’t been sleeping well for a couple weeks now.