Recovery

it’s late, can’t sleep regardless of how much sleeping dope i take. it’s tedious and absurd. chewed through 2 packs of gum. blood sugar low - didn’t want to consume more calories but the choice between calories or the implications of low blood sugar make for easy decisions.

new hard drive for photo work/video work on aurora. wonder what the point is. haven’t painted in a while - why have more paintings sit molding in the basement?

bleak.

Deep Dive

i’m rewriting everything.

Data Entry

so much of life is the entry of data into a system. input -> black box -> output

i wonder what some of the bizarre struggles are even for. is it just to punch at something and in doing so find the purpose that exists only in punching?

idealism is best reserved for chewing gum and horse races.

Freedom

i vaguely remember a time before this time where i wasn’t tracked everywhere i go. where i wouldn’t immediately receive coupons in the mail for the exact items that i purchased from the store a few days before. where i wouldn’t be asked to check-in, rate my experience, log my calories, track my steps, share my interests, buy this product, transform my life, watch this ad, etc. etc. etc.

search results are more useless now than the early days of the internet.

our existence serves only one purpose - to make someone else money through direct manipulation of our lives.

kmart is your savings store.
where your dollar buys you more.

computing

at night i can hear the cars on the highway with a clarity that is impossible during the day.

it’s like that with most signals though and it’s the main reason i can’t stand it.

as a child i would lie awake for hours and stare into the darkness of my room wondering if i was dead, if my family was dead, how my grandparents were doing and, almost more important than all of that, how many more hours until day and we had to repeat this whole cycle.

the bed was a torture chamber where i logged way too many hours being sick–living in books and dreams while watching the kids outside. to this day i can’t sleep in a bedroom with a closed door–it’s too much like being shut away, separated from the world.

and right now, at night, the room i’m in is silent with the following exceptions: my typing, 3 clocks ticking away, the occasional train, and the constant sound of the highway. in my weaker moments i start to imagine what’s going on in those cars. where are they going? can i come?

but no. i am here, in this room, alone and listening to the above sounds.

somewhere in my late teens it occurred to me that night was the biggest declaration of humanity’s defeat. that after going through the daily cycle we just pack it in and give up until we have to do it over. that we lost one more day of our lives and are just trying to not think about it.

so night became a desperate battleground for me in my 20s until my nerves went and what was left of my body came crashing in around itself.

it was all so much foolish romanticism.