a really short weekend, burned from looking through my physical journals and taking some photos. going to leaf through these books briefly and maybe sieve out some ideas for my final, or anything, really. i thought about the term “tags” and what randall packer said about “tag cloud”, perhaps that could be something. i think with this project, my material is really endless and heavy, and i could go so many ways.
some stuff that i wrote some time ago from my blog, that may be useful for research and this project on archiving and remembering time. thoughts about the process of memories, blogging and keeping a journal.
spent the weekend dreaming again. it was terrible. i don’t know what i am thinking man. i quickly made a few pages of a new zine last night, because the thought of you is too terrible. it is called “letters to you in Arial”. i made it because i imagined that if i had a typeface to carry the spirit of my writing, I would use Arial. i wanted to hide behind Arial because it is used on many boring letters you do not want to receive. bills and admin stuff. and handouts in school. you don’t know the writer. oh but it is ok. does not matter.
Thought about reviving my tumblr and posting art related things there. Keeping a blog is effort. Keeping a picture blog- more effort. I guess it is why, year after year, I am able to blabber incessantly on this page. It is far easier to write. But then, I also have feelings to account for. feelings often need to be expressed in words, rather than pictures. For me at least.
Realised I have been blogging for 10 years. How very long. And how very whiny. Perhaps. I am happy that there are little pictorial documentation of my teenage life, as discussed previously… I was an ugly teenager. Like damn ugly and fucking awkward. Yes a fair percentage of us all had been awkward to a certain degree, but mostly this side to them shed away after a while and suddenly they just become average people. Normal. They just breezed through this awkward phase to become this completely nondescript character. I really don’t know how I am still not pass this stage. Am I ? I really don’t know. Very sad. But anyway, I’m glad these written words are all that is left about teenage me. It would be difficult to paint a picture of me with these dark pieces of writing if you don’t know me. Thank goodness.