i forgive myself for not understanding i forgive you for not understanding i forgive myself for not understanding i forgive you for not understanding i forgive myself for not understand i forgive you for not understanding i forgive myself for not understanding i forgive you for n.

embarassed by how rapidly i'm oscillating between "i need a wife" and "i need to be alone".

i needed this

bushwick to harlem today.

walking for a few hours always makes me feel at least a bit better. you can literally walk away from your problems.

still thinking about @reelCheburashka, who i’d barely interacted with, asking me out of the blue “did you ever browse /lit/?” being completely correct.

THC is a pretty miserable drug!.

RT @thepostbuddhist:

fucked up that nobody grows mids anymore.

RT @ShouldHaveAnima:

being in a real city with other people is crazy. posting through it feels way weirder now. some of you actually kinda know me now. so it goes. so it goes.

in doing ~nothing for years i think i forgot how to rest. 'rest', inactivity, was the default -- totally self-loathing, slightly agitated, always 'about to act'. and now i've been working hard, harder than ever before, and i don't know how to *unwind* after that, relax, feel ok.

i've had my default github pixel icon for so long changing it feels kinda wrong.

he did not make it. think he passed away a bit before i went to bed last night. likely too far gone by the time i found him. i hope that having a quiet and safe place to slip away made it a bit easier on him. rest in peace little guy.

if this pigeon doesn’t make it i’m gonna be a bit fucked up over it.

found a unwell pigeon on the sidewalk and developed instant moral responsibility. apparently there’s a place on the UWS that’ll take him, but they close at 7. hope they’re open tomorrow. hope he’s ok for the night.

i’m moving different.

peak pandemic, totally isolated in my studio apartment. i wonder if i'll ever grow my hair out this long again.

if you're seeing this, drop an old pic of yourself that you still love

finally hitting a good stride with cursor -> immediately having an existential crisis . the engineering world so going to be so different holy shit.

it's an interesting little business. everything's marked up -- $10 for a 50-year-old paperback. but the selection is excellent, there's no trash on the table. so you're paying for curation -- getting to buy from a small, easily-parsable collection rather than a cluttered store.