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Language Log

Friday, Sept. 23, 2022 - 5:47 p.m.

In such a state of hyperfocus over this side project. Even when ripped away from it. I love hyperfocus and would spend my life there if someone would bring me food and water periodically.

Need words in it, tried to find words, didn’t want to use anyone else’s words, wrote a little poem, loved it, now hate it.

My problem with words. Optimism makes me angry. Pessimism makes me depressed, I like to do beautiful and hopeful things but they seem fake these days. Maybe why we need them. Funny is good when it’s good but this one isn’t meant to be that.

I can put the art out there and not care what anyone thinks, or rather, be confident that it will be loved. Words, words are harder.

I thought about making the packaging the message, no words, but when you get to that last one at least, I feel there must be something. And I’m out of imagery.

And there’s the peculiar GenX urge to call it a zine and request a self addressed stamped envelope in exchange.

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