(No content yet)

Overheard Haiku “My hamster is mad— I'm sure he's plotting revenge," pink-haired lady sighs.

Bus driver nodding, sage-like, world-weary, agrees: "Hamsters, man. Who knows."

The silence returns. Wheels rumble philosophical beneath tired feet.

I wonder briefly: Do hamsters lie awake, whispering conspiracies under cedar-chip blankets? Or is it just Monday getting the best of us again?

Wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget… but I still might.

I sat down at the corner café, ready to battle my notebook again, but my coffee betrayed me, turning from fresh espresso to tepid sadness faster than I could open my pen.

Last night’s dreams lingered, absurd: A spiral staircase leading nowhere, and a goldfish gently asking me for career advice.

I offered some tips— (“Swim against the current,” I said, sounding wiser than a half-asleep human has any right to be.)

Today, caffeine is failing at its only job: Coffee hits like tap water, and tap water, well, it feels more like a tranquilizer dart.

Maybe my goldfish client has it easier after all.

Wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget… but I still might.

Justo ahora, cuando al fin aprendí a atarme los zapatos sin prisa, a hablarme en voz baja, a escuchar el crujido del pan, el mundo decidió perder la cabeza.

Las calles no caminan, corren. Las bocas no dicen, gritan. Los días no pasan, se caen.

Y yo, con un cuaderno viejo y un café que ya no humea, descubro que sé lo que quiero.

Tal vez es coincidencia, o el eco burlón del destino, pero justo cuando todo afuera se desordena, mi adentro se acomoda, como un cajón con cartas bien dobladas.

¿Será que hace falta que el mundo grite para que uno escuche el murmullo propio?

¿Será que la locura ajena deja espacio, por un momento, para sentarse en paz y coser los hilos sueltos?

No lo sé. Solo sé que camino más firme cuando todo tiembla. Y que, por raro que parezca, el caos me ha dado un rincón donde descansar mi nombre.

(No content yet)

A dog doesn’t understand death. Not the way we do. He understands silence. He understands that someone who was always there is now not.

He waits by doors that won’t open. He listens for footsteps that only memory still makes. He sniffs at the air for a scent that’s already fading.

But he never hears the words: “She’s gone.” “He passed.” “Never again.”

So in his heart, you’re still alive— just elsewhere. Delayed. Caught in some long errand beyond comprehension.

And isn’t that what we humans do too? We know the facts, we say the words— but inside, we keep waiting. For a call. A knock. A laugh in the next room. As if love had no burial rights. As if memory was a leash tied to a ghost.

Perhaps the dog suffers less because he doesn’t know it’s forever. But perhaps he suffers more, because he never stops hoping.

And maybe that’s what grief really is: the stubborn part of us that waits, ears perked, at a door that will never open again.

First Experience... apa yang sebenarnya kita pikirkan atau ingat saat mendengar hal itu, tentunya banyak ya. Contohnya saat ini, first experience menulis dalam sebuah blog di sebuah web yang direkomendasikan oleh AI (chat gpt). Umurku saat ini baru saja menginjak 18 tahun dan banyak hal yang belum aku alami dan hal hal tersebut yang mendorong diriku untuk berkembang lebih jauh lagi. Namun, aku juga mengalami ketakutan tentang masa depan, bagai bebek berenang dalam danau yang tenang, Apa yang sebenarnya ingin aku lakukan, hal apa yang harus aku selesaikan. Semua hal itu akan menjadi First Experience berhargaku nantinya. goodbye guys

Гроза гремела над морем. Приближался шторм. Позади лес...и чудовище. Дальше бежать некуда. Анна подошла к краю скалы, внизу бушевали волны, и с шумом били о скалы. Острые как лезвие. На мгновение, в сознании Анны промелькнула мысль, и картинки ее падения...а затем пустота. Я Анна Амредж. Хватит ждать! Я не боюсь тебя! Выходи. Я знаю что ты там! Анна сделала решительный шаг. И посмотрела в чашу леса. Где-то в этой тьме, смотрит голодным взглядом чудовище. Которого она так сейчас боится. Из леса вышел Ричард, он упал на колени. Анна помоги мне! Господи Ричард, что с тобой? Этот чудовище напало на тебя? Ты ранен? С этими словами, она бросилась без раздумий к Ричарду, обнимая, и осматривая нет ли у него серьезных ранений. Анна... послушай меня! Не жди... Беги...на его лице была тревога и желание что-то сказать. Анна взяла ладонями лицо Ричарда. Я не брошу тебя, Ричард. Не сейчас ни когда либо. Я люблю тебя. Он почувствовал прикосновение к губам. И дикое желание, попробовать ее на вкус....вкус крови. Нет, ты не знаешь кто я! Анна, я прошу тебя, сейчас же, бежать. Что ты такое говоришь? Почему ты гонишь меня? Ричард...я не понимаю что происходит. Я...я люблю тебя Анна. Просто знай. Такие как я. Не выбирают кем им быть. Ты должна меня понять. Пожалуйста. Его взгляд, поднялся в небо, рука поднялась, указывая на луну. Которая озарила тьму. И освятила их, полнолуние было ярким как солнце. Анна обернулась чтобы посмотреть на лунный свет. До нее донеслись звуки.... подобные тем что она слышала, когда убегала от чудовища, похожее на волка. Она обернулась, перед ней стоял, то самое существо с волчьей головой. Она сделала шаг, затем ещё шаг назад. Подойдя к краю. Всё это время, не переставая смотреть на рычащего зверя.Она почувствовала что, земля под ногой обвалилась. В этот момент чудовище сделало прыжок, так жадно хотелось ему плоти. И совсем не хотелось упустить добычу. Свет озарился, вокруг нее. Он освещал все ее тело. Между ними образовался барьер, невидимый. Так близко его видеть. И понимать что это тот кого она любит. Она вспомнила лес, и мертвую Деби. Как искали тело. А нашли только одежду, разорванную и в крови. И все те кто пропал, в этом проклятом лесу. Это был отец Ричарда, мистер Джон. Волна приняла ее мягко. Падение и тот момент когда вода ее накрыла, она увидела юную девушку, с красивым лицом. Она взяла Анна за руку. И они понеслись к берегу. Меня зовут Нали, я живу в океане. Я и мой народ. Она обратилась к Анне, поклонившись. Твоя мама была мне как сестра. Раньше мы с ней виделись часто. Но позже ее убила сестра близнец, твоя тётя. Впитав ее силу, и силой завладела миром ведьм. Для Анны это было как сон. Ее тело сияло. Падение с обрыва, в бушующее море. Чудесное спасение. Вокруг плавали женщины с хвостом. А где то, либо живой либо мертвый, рыщет волк. Она прервала разговор. Я не могу в это поверить, моя мама погибла сегодня утром. От рук чародея. Наши посмотрела на Анну, взглядом полным понимания и сострадания. Анна, твой народ находится в рабстве. Самый сильный и жестокий предводитель, завладел душой твоей тети. Чтобы править миром ведьм, и этим миром миром людей. Ещё не много и начнется война, скоро печать может расколоться. Если они соберут все камни вместе. Анна. Мне жаль что на твои плечи выпало бремя, когда никого нет. И ты одна. Но у тебя есть я и мой народ. Анна послушай меня пожалуйста. Я открою тайну, твоего рождения. И многое расскажу. Только сейчас надо чтобы ты смирилась с тем что произошло. Сегодня полнолуние, и день твоего совершеннолетия. Время когда высшие силы, откроют твое сознание. И ты сама всё поймёшь. Огонь защищает и подчиняется тебе, вода расскажет то что слышит вокруг. Земля и воздух оберегают.

Some drawings I made about three years ago: https://imgur.com/a/yXllGXd Could say a lot more about these drawings, but not right now...

On a side note, the tool used to create them, artpad.art.com, doesn't exist anymore.

today, I was searching for websites to share my anguish,

Here in the Southeast (U.S., that is), the talk of the town has recently revolved around the most mundane of topics: the unseasonably cold weather and inflated gas prices caused by an apparent cyber attack on the Colonial Pipeline. On Blackwell Street in Durham, there were so many cars in the parking lot of a gas station that it appeared impossible for all but the outermost cars to drive out—a canonically tangled jam.

I have been reflecting on the cool sound of that one consonant that seems only to occur in Portuguese, the one that appears in the name João.

The white coating on the outside of Brie cheese is mold (but you probably already knew this).

Testing, testing. Dead air on the site.

Hello, here we are at the studio middle school 2019. I have blisters on my fingers and needles in my film canister. Mississippi Heavy Water Blues, Barbeque Bob, 1924. Peace & Love. Yeah!

Tune of the day

"No Boom Boom" by Chuck D and the Fine Arts Militia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WUxa6aXeNU

This is an adaptation of John Lee Hooker's song "Boom Boom" in the form of a protest against the invasion of Iraq that was impending at the time of this performance in February 2003.

Thought of the day Take a moment to note the demise of Cheese Nips, which filled American grocery store shelves from 1955 to 2020. Yet another change in our world wrought by the pandemic? (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheese_Nips)

Quote of the day A bargain with insomnia: if I lie in bed pretending to be asleep, is that good enough for you so that I won't have to fall asleep standing up?

My brain is oddly empty today, despite there being so many things I would like to do. Or maybe "because of" instead of "despite of." The main idea is that I'm having trouble thinking of something creative or enriching to write, so instead will summarize some hopes and dreams I have for this site, improvements which might eventually make it a place where people can share creative ideas:

Realistic plans

• Automated sitemapping which will link up with Google Webmaster Console
• Support for embedded images
• "Live preview" mode: observe the rendered version of the page updating itself in real time (as opposed to the current editing pane, which is the "source" mode)
• Drawing tool: you can create a drawing, which will then get uploaded to an image hosting server and become an embedded image on the page.
• Complete the first full draft of the "Baseball Journal" section of the site, which means writing up the rest of the rules of the game, team summaries, and lexicon, at a minimum.
• Turn the "Baseball Journal" section of the site into a larger encyclopedia and infotainment article hub. Using resources from books and old news articles, write up interesting but little-known historical summaries (if there are any left), or compile local knowledge (for example, anecdotes about fun places to go swimming outdoors in Durham).

This site has been up for over two years and remains practically a ghost town, and that's because there's nothing interesting to read on here, and no people to interact with. For this site to be fun, either it needs people to visit it, or else I just have to up my game as an amateur writer-comedian(?)-webmaster.

Weird jokes from a chat with my friends earlier My friend shared a link to this meme (https://i.chzbgr.com/full/9609606400/h36CFECDA/person-adam-creator-o-vaccinated-single-women-my-area) So then I wrote "It looks like getting vaccinated turns your arm into a WiFi hotspot. It didn’t work for me, though. Instead, my vaccination spot on my arm turned into a dialup modem..."

today, i replaced the hard drive of one of my computers with a solid-state drive, which made it go as fast as it has ever run before, and perhaps even faster. to help with the task, one of my co-workers lent me an SATA-to-USB cable, which was the first one I had ever seen or used. for the first time since my long-used laptop died two years ago, I was able to go inside the old hard drive, which contained not only photos and videos from the past ten years or so, but also files going as far back as the first personal computer I ever owned in my life. this nostalgic experience got me thinking about the role of the cloud in one's digital existence.

no longer is a file, a memory, a creation, linked to any one physical location, as previously when even digital media had to reside SOMEWHERE, such as a small shell of cold metal that fits in your pocket. when we depend on the cloud instead, does it change the way we create and store our memories? personally, my experience has been to err toward conservative storage when using the cloud because of how they charge using subscription models and using tiered pricing based on the size of the files. when the storage medium is my own, these worries don't appear on the horizon, because I already own the drive. the shift in paradigm reminds me of renting versus buying: each hard drive you might buy is like a little house, which you furnish as your own. using the cloud is like renting: if you forget to pay, or cannot do so any more, you'll get an eviction notice and all your memories will be wiped with the cold-heartedness and immediacy of a cron job (or a wrecking ball, to use an analogy from the physical world).

One quick question about music: do constraints of genre enhance creativity, or stifle it? I think the correct answer may be "neither," and that the creativity of a work of music depends almost entirely on the creator. There are swaths of genre-bending music that fail to inspire the listener, and likewise swaths of music created almost exclusively according to the conventions of a given genre, equally uninspiring. A good musician can inspire within or without genre.

Some special videos

• The only known film footage of Anne Frank: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hvtXuO5GzU
• Full footage of Nirvana, 1992 VMA's: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9cxMsGFgQ8
• The Big Snit (Richard Condie, National Film Board of Canada): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1S5pAF1YYA
• Krusty Krab Pizza song (with lyrics): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9zbd6-Bwhs

Hello there.

Greetings.

Break the Bank by ScHoolboy Q: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc-Vqcud32I

what you talkin bout if it ain't bout the money neck full of gold, i'm attracted to the honey

For the general election in the U.S. today, on 3 November 2020, I volunteered as a canvasser, someone who knocks on doors to encourage registered voters to cast their ballots. However, something unrelated happened that is significant enough for me to need to write it down before I forget the details. It's that I had the biggest crush in a single day that I have ever had in my life with the person who was my canvassing partner. It felt almost like we had a shared mind or something, that is the best way to put it, like our thoughts functioned in the same way. This was the only time I’ve asked a girl out face to face, although she politely said no, and since I only know her first name, it is fairly doubtful I would see her again. I do not know how different her perceptions might be of that time, but I think those two and a half hours or so that we spent together having fun and talking will be permanently engrained in my brain. The toughest part for me is wondering if I will ever experience something like that again, because I don’t have anything really to compare it with. I feel like I fell in love at first sight, one of the few times I have ever felt so strongly about another person.

I am not going to be able to sum up this person succinctly with the amount of time I have available, so let me instead just share a list of why I liked her so much. She had a beautiful voice that sounded like she was singing each time she spoke. She had an inimitable fashion sense, entirely her own. Namely, she wore a blue suede baseball cap, a khaki trench coat, a yellow scarf, light blue jeans, and pink sneakers. She carried herself with a gentle dignity, and had a slightly formal way of speaking, kind of like me, and a cute laugh. It was less anything physical that struck me about her, though. Instead, it was a feeling of completeness being around her. I felt an instant connection to her, like she knew what I was thinking, and how I thought, right away. I liked the calming sense of her presence, and there were so many things I wanted to ask her but wasn't sure if it was the right time to do it. We talked for about half the time while walking around to the different sites, and I kept on wanting to make her laugh, and succeeded more times than I was expecting. These words don't capture the feelings at the time, though. I liked all her little quirks, like the way she pronounced "Guthrie" as "GOO three" or "cordoned" as "core DONNED." Why is it that in retrospect, it feels so silly? The truth is there was something different in me being with her, a positivity that lies dormant in me too often. I had a sense that her mind functioned similarly to mine, some type of eccentricity that is hard to sum up in general terms, but more comes from examples, like the way she talked about her enjoyment of maps of navigation, and the way she noticed small details on the houses we were passing. Most people don't notice these things, and being able to share them with another person was rare and special for me.

When we finished the session, about one minute before we parted ways, I accidentally touched her hand for a split second, and it was kind of scary. Then as we were getting ready to head off in our cars, I asked if she would ever like to get together, and she said no. I was surprised because of how well we had clicked, at least from my perspective, and it definitely has left me feeling crushed and disoriented since. I wonder why my brain puts me through these rollercoasters, and if the feeling that struck me was actually love. I hope one day to see you again, though it seems almost completely unlikely. Her first name was Kathleen, and that is all I ever learned of her. She will probably never read this, and maybe she won't think about me again as I do of her.

Hello? Lil Wayne, is that you?

I'm in PORTLAND, OREGON. I should be asleep since I have work in the morning but I can't help but miss my partner back in CALIFORNIA. Sigh. I left my home impulsively...I felt like he didn't care about me. I had trouble finding a job. I was sleeping on my mother's couch. Here in OREGON, I have a good paying job and I feel welcomed...but home is where the heart is. I love you, BRANDON. I'm sorry for the damage I've dealt.

Yesterday, I ate an entire box of Little Debbie Turtle Brownies in one sitting, among other foods, and felt terrible afterward. Tonight, I ate an entire pack of Keebler Coconut Dreams cookies (basically like Girl Scout Samoas), also in one sitting, and feel great. Coincidence? I don't know; too many confounding variables.

Why, for certain albums, does infinite replays feel as fresh as the first listen, and I learn all the lyrics by heart, whereas for other albums, all the songs blend together, make me bored, and fade almost instantly from my memory?

It's not about style or year of release. What explains it?

the tower of life

rake your leaves or rake your life

forget your past and remeber your present

home

knit mit

my mom thinks this mit is in poor taste

its practical