we are so easily contained

Future archaeology will probably just involve computer forensics. Its weird to think that everything there is to know about our culture is probably just going to be on an old hard drive somewhere in a hundred years’ time.

hack writer

The problem was, life turned out to lack any coherent narrative structure. In reflecting, he would attempt to impose one upon it, as one does with dreams when trying to describe them; and all context and tone would be lost in the attempt to organize events for clarity. Life did not have rising action, a climax or denouement – or, when those elements did occur, they’d happen at all the wrong places. The whole thing was terribly plotted, and damn near unpublishable in its current form.


We Talk to Us

We will busy ourselves with work. We will mechanize our motion, drones to drown the drones. Threaten the thrum of thought. Yet still noise will intrude: telephones and traffic hiss; the homogenous non-language of crowds, the tempo tick of countdown clocks, silence-breaking sirens.

Other voices demand attention. From without we are besieged by bills, obligations, uncollected mail and missed messages. Everything requires response.

Inner voices swim, shark-circling in aural periphery. There but not-there, suppressed and subconscious. When night brings its curtained quiet, we can hear them murmuring as lovers in our ear. They praise or chastise; blame, bedevil, berate. They do impressions, take forms. Speak in the voices of others as we remember them to sound- our parents, priests, our teachers. They use our own voice, as we hear it – not as it is to others, but to ourselves. (Later, recordings refute us: render our own utterances unrecognizable.)

We are so used to ignoring this voice that the only time we truly hear it is when we are alone, at 3am. When the room is dead silent, and we the bodies entombed. Sleep threatens us, beckons us, but voices sleep next to us- talk softly until slurred and slowed. Complex sentences become simple.

At first we listen. But, sooner or later, together we come to coma, and meaning blurs. Fades again to whispers broken. In those broad hours where time disjoints, our sentences are senseless. Proscriptions, presented in pieces. We are provided no thread.

mostly space

One of the more interesting concepts I learned in Chemistry class- these things we find dense and solid are mostly empty, molecules held together by van der Waals forces, invisible magical forces, atomic gravity, the fabric that binds things.

It was just tossed aside by the teacher casually, just a random statement, like, hey, here’s a bit of interesting trivia, but I thought about it a lot and still do – that space governs us and it’s mostly all there is; our substance is in fact emptiness.

The blacks in comic panels or films are often much more important than the whites. Negative space.  Direct the eye to the content by surrounding it with loss.  That’s life, it’s what it does, it shows us things through our grief, makes the eye wander without the reader even being aware.

I think about that space concept a lot, and I think about what it means that what we see is in fact not at all what is actually there; not-there. Yet, it is – atoms aren’t something we can USE- at least, not without a large budget, trained personnel, and the threat of radiation poisoning.

But this table, well, it holds up the keyboard on which I’m typing – that’s useful.  The helpful little atoms know not what they do, theysimply hover, they talk to each other and configure, reconfigure; they’re social animals.  But they’re naive. They don’t know that somewhere, far away, a distance asgreat to them as the sun is to us, they look like a table when they’re together.

We each do our little part – to someone far off, we humans probably look like something they find useful, though up close,we’re all stumbling around just trying to bond with each other, and sometimes getting it right. And sometimes, there’s an explosion.

Staring at the C

I spelled “besieged” – “beseiged”.  I forgot the rule.

I and E behave differently when C is around.  C walks into the word like he owns the place, and anything that follows is somehow changed, a little bit skittish and uncertain.  Vowels switch places, as if they’re scared, because nobody wants to stand next to him. C’s like a big tough guy, in a bad suit one size too small, and Ray-Ban sunglasses.  Tapping a baseball bat against his leg.  Waiting.

E could probably fight him off, if E chose to.  E is popular, always surrounded by other letters (unlike “I” or “A”), and there’s safety in numbers.  For some reason, though, E often chooses to remain silent.

Q is rarely around, but he and “U” are inseparable.  I wonder what will happen if Q ever finds out that sometimes, late at night when Q’s asleep, U has been seen mingling with other consonants.  Perhaps they have an open relationship.

The tyranny of C must be stopped.  Every once in a while, he gets out of line.  Someone needs to take C aside someday, and explain to him, patiently but firmly.

Someone should say, hey, get with the program, C.  There’s rules.  We can always have you replaced, you know, with “K” or “S”.

missing cat poster

What % of the world’s total cat population is “lost”? Hard to get a precise statistic on lost things. Often, you don’t even know they are.


There is no difference between as if and as though, but there is a difference between even if and even though: uncertainty and certainty.