A friend til the end
If all you have is a text editor, everything looks like a blog post.
When one sees a text editor, see a best friend who has duct tape over their mouth, and a twinkle in their eye.
Multiply this by how many best friends you think you need to have around you to get your point across.
Write.as is a publishing platform with a minimal text editor. Nothing more and nothing less. With such freedom, one could imagine the possibilities. And there are people like Inquiry and Paradise and Triptych who are experimenting with the platform. From embedding code to making letters to other Write.as users. Genuinely inspiring stuff.
Omg did you just namedrop me?
I didn't notice I was experimenting, because I'm just writing a blawg in the same style I've always written it, since my furst blawg in the late 90s.
Maybe it's not experimenting so much as it is picking away at calcified points or grinding sandpaper against social norms, polishing the grit of the universe behind safe walls of cashmere text
Can we do more like this? More interesting and useful stuff? New forms of writing?
The seed of a nascent platform must have the well cut eye for thoughtful (cultured) rebellion. That's the heart of the platform, and everything grows out from that seed.
The seeds inspire the next seeds, which grow shoots, which then becomes a forest. (many steps in between, but click fast forward) And the forest has the shape of something new and wonderful. Smells weird, too.
Couldn't imagine them being new forms of writing so much as they're just uncommon forms of writing. Maybe “fresh” forms of writing as opposed to “pickled” “processed” forms of writing.
More than rehashing articles and blog posts?
Ew, I just realized that's what most blogs are for. It's kind of nice that write.as exists on the grey web, away from the Silk Road and definitely away from toxically SEO'd listicles shaming people to be bigger, faster, stronger versions of (not) themselves.
I like that this just exists, like a weird tree and all its permacultured symbionts surrounded by a forest of relative sameness.
Eventually this is where all the elves and warrior princesses will find their refuge. If they can make it through the forest, that is.
Autibiographical notions in the current tense
Holy shit, dudes.
I had such a hard start today. An eyes glued over (good typo, I'll keep it), woke up 4 hours later than usual, shit-wheres-the-dawn day.
I'm typing to you, best-friend-with-duct-tape, because y'all help me get my mind in order before I go do the “adult” stuff, like “work on projects that inspire me and challenge me”.
Those projects can get overwhelming at times, especially when rent is 9 days late and the pay-or-quit will be taped to the door tomorrow. Then it's not the stress of being challenged to do an amazing job, it's more the stress of squeezing dollars out of your efforts so you're not escorted out of your hovel by am “I don't care what you did, I'm here for one thing only” sheriff.
So it's good to admit that.
Keeps the train on the track.
I've refilled the teacup a few times this morning, but just can't get that terminal velocity.
My priorities are like pins on a hostel USA map. Everywhere. And also hostile.
My to-done list looks like a clusterfuck. Is it because I organized it that way, or did my synapses get caught in the spindle again?
Umm. Maybe I'll just eat this jar of mustard on my desk.
Well, I guess it's just
Another day in, Paradise
PS: I'm swiping CJ's brilliant margins trick. Fucking so inspiration-flushed at seeing it. Reminds me of so many happy memories with the best books there are. Not fiction; textbooks. Well... I know what I'm hitting after I finish this post. — .:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. published not proofread. #NeverLookBackspace! Words, Ideas, Magic copyrighted by Zem in Paradise. this is confidential communication. Protected by US and International law.