2025.10.13
Her eyes beat dust out of the tapestry until it was bright. Was she "a little bit high all the time"? Had the sickness blazed new pathways and cast light on tangled old ones? To be sure, she had forgotten the multiplication tables, and now felt there was a secret number between two and three.
"I'm sorry not to respond to your email," she wrote, "but I live completely in the present now."
"Any preexisting anxiety?" the doctor asked.
"...No," she said very quietly, though in fact she was the kind of child who was scared not only of the fireworks but of the half hour it took to find parking before the fireworks.
What does this sentence mean to you: *The more closely you look at a word the more distantly it looks back?*
Amazed at how Lynette can floss in the shower. But I'm not sure why I have to use a mirror to help guide me. It's not like I'm seeing much of anything in there.
Of course reading Lockwood's latest fever dream book is making me want to try and write in these little prose-poetry autobiographical snippets. But I guess that was the format I had when I wrote in my PalmPilot journal. (For a hot minute Twitter caught that vibe, for both me and Lockwood I guess, though she got kinda famous with it)
At work someone mentions they are removing an old defunct project's code repository. That makes me a little melancholy. It reminds me of that IKEA Lamp commercial - where they pull every heart string to make a lamp being discarded curbside feel like abandoning a dog, and then mock the viewer for feeling bad for the lamp "Many of you feel bad for this lamp. That is because you're crazy. It has no feelings! And the new one is much better."
(But if you're read "Still Life with Woodpecker" - maybe we shouldn't be disdainful of objects just because they are inanimate. And we have to take this IKEA shill's word for it that the "new one is much better", that it's not just am example of fashion driven waste.)
