onychophoran

It looks so desolate with no journal entries. Not so
much in that beautiful, sparse desert way, but more in the
"i am crying in the closet because its all for shit" sort
of way. Well, maybe not _that_ desolate.

Listening to Gridlock's Further album and exploring this
version of our modern culture. Probably should be
sleeping or reading about Minor White instead.

I wonder how scattered our journals will become as
we write a blog entry there, and journal note here.
The truly fragmented nature of our personalities
will shine forth.

I seem to get like this late at night.