There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
the corridor looks exactly the same. knowing you’re leaving changes it anyway. # Everything is becoming sentimental and I am resisting because we aren’t actually finished yet. People are writing...
hard, clean, unsentimental. precisely what the doctor did not prescribe but should have. # Dave Clarke tonight and I needed exactly this kind of techno after the week I’ve had....
I refuse to donate another friday night to somebody else’s sidebar. # I have spent enough time this week looking at two browser windows. Tonight I got ready, put on...
sometimes irony arrives gift-wrapped and you don’t even have to improve it. # Update because apparently yesterday wasn’t stupid enough. She posted: “Odio la falsità e l’ipocrisia.” I laughed. Actually...
nothing good has ever followed “look at this website” after eleven at night. # I have never written about Valerio before because there was never really anything to write, and...
my brain spent all week being useful. tonight it can sit down. # Hardcore. Loud. Exactly what I needed. Also Bambolina is now the first thing in my MSN name...
everybody keeps saying “the last few weeks” as though that makes them move faster. # School is strange now. We are still doing normal things but everything has an invisible...
if you only like music that confirms the personality you’ve advertised, that sounds exhausting. # Another person tonight looked surprised because Britney was playing in my room before we left....
sometimes the entire diary entry is: I was there, I danced, I was happy. # I was there. I danced. I was happy. Okay, apparently I can’t leave it at...
may is the blue of football shirts, deep water and the ink that leaks through cheap notebooks. # New layout. Stronger blue, white, tiny red and black details. Yes, vaguely...
tomorrow is a holiday, therefore tonight has been legally reclassified. # Big night. Midweek only technically. Everybody seemed to have made the same calculation: no school/work tomorrow = Wednesday has...
apparently friendship means receiving an mp3 and then being told your opinion of it is wrong. # Edo sent me Tommyknocker this afternoon and demanded I listen before going out....
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.