sigh. the assimilation continues, thanks to JPG Magazine.

i wake up and try to remember what needs to be done on this new day by picturing what’s written on my online calendar. i misplace my keys, or wonder what’s become of my old eight-track tapes, and start to reach for Google. i can’t remember if a particular someone attended the party i went to the night before, so i scan my digital pictures to see if i can spot their face. i find something i want to share with joriel, sitting five feet away, and email it to her.

these sort of things have produced a thoughtful melancholy, an urge to struggle against the very sort of web 2.0 goodness that i embrace and evangelize; given form in the recent posts: scans of caffeine-fueled scribblings on local scrap paper. to what end? i dunno. maybe it’s just a phase, secret grumblings from the electrical well that only the moon hears.

emily’s studio, 10.21.06