the sun aches my eyes so that they begin to cry
I am forgetting to log the time.
My true intention is to control exposition. Only need to know what you need to know. I have been writing often, but nothing appropriate to share, yet. I am avoiding "I" as much as possible to create ambiguity. But even then it is still too revealing. I keep these thoughts in three notebooks varying in purpose. Serial lists, on the go thoughts, and evening thoughts.
Documenting weekly bag clean outs. Trying to have a more organized bag with less stuff.
Thinking about the web becoming less accessible with all the identity verification and personal information needed to access many sites. I will never have access to two sites. Banned from one because I wouldn't comply with the identity verification in which they needed me to send a photo of my state ID. Another because I wouldn't comply with the identity verification in which they required a recent photo of my face. I'm not put out though. I feel some pride in admiting they are both dating sites, but the fact I was attempting to use dating sites so recently is very embarrassing.
Rate limited for downloading too many manifestos.
More to add once I learn the Internet Archive metadata standards and upload process.
Began reading The Waves. I always think of him when I read Woolf. Annoying, but should fade with time. Our shifty eye fleeting, connecting only long enough to recognize. He turned to me, ascending the stairs of that building with lovely little terrace. His left I passed. (this sounds like romance slop. i'm keeping it)
I read one chapter of The Waves and I wasn't impressed. Annoyed and impatient. I'm not in the right headspace for it. Not to imply that my current headspace is bad. I don't think Woolf is what I need right now. I'll go back to The Man Without Qualities. Continue to lug this massive book around. Looking like an idiot ♥
The Man Without Qualities has been a challenging, but worthwhile, read. Notetaking helps. I need a new notebook. I have no one to discuss it with, so I will just share excerpts that I've enjoyed Who knows, I don't know who visits this site. I assume mostly bots.
It's nice the sun is out at 6:00pm.
Experiencing boredom. Reading up on virtues. I want to design an Ex Libris using symbols depicting the virtues from the Cardinal and seven capital that resonate the most.
Being generous with "virtues I got down pretty well."
Reoccurring dream of vision impairment and immobility. Woke up crying.
The first day of spring in the city. The streets and skies are filled with noise.
I sat my ass in three different parks. One instance included a small picnic. Now licking leftover soft cheese from the cellophane.
No matter what you choose, you will suffer. Is it better to dilute the suffering with joy, or abandon joy and indulge the suffering? In hopes of elimination.
Corporeal restraint forms a disembodied attachment.
Began The Man Without Qualities
unaltered eyes myself unseen. Probably my punishment for being so vain.
Maybe the sustained stimulation suffered, causes senses to shut down.
Or maybe medicine will be the miracle that eases my worries.
For sight is still had today, I should probably be grateful and stfu.
Letter writing should become more popular. Signed, sealed, delivered, idc if you ever read it or respond. Handwritten spam, delivered postal
Baggage packed, stacked by the door, upon every return they remain. Renunciation without absolution. Ceasing additions, perpetually rotting. What has been convalesced, suffocates beneath a layer of lacerations, incisional slits, bloody, foul, and sobbing.
I am thinking of something alive and ugly. I've left it behind, to love and nurture something new, something beautiful. And when I am away from the ugly, something even uglier grows and festers over it, killing it, but preserving it.
Petrified. I don't dwell on my past life and let it continue to grow. It still remains, contained. I just need to eliminate the disease that clings to the artifact, like the mold on the bathroom walls of my childhood.
Once I clear off the blight, I can admire the artifact of my past.
I just discovered that all my logs from last year were also permanently deleted...lmao. There's an okay handwritten record of it. Guess that will have to do. Sorry to the people who discover my writing when I am dead, you're missing a big chunk of it. Sorry. Unless someone has been archiving my site lol.
Noticing an improvement in my backbends
I suppose, and pray, that the desires will subside
"I've been letting time pass by, worrying about whats to come and what has been. But I fear trying to pass time is what got me here."
