i can't write about you because you'll read it
back when i lived in a more vibrant neighborhood (that's a polite way to say it), i used to keep notes about the people i'd run into or have random conversations with. like a former boxer with a tough-looking dog who always called me "bella." or a german woman with a walker who lived in a hotel down the street, usually wearing not-quite-appropriate-for-public-appearances pyjama shorts and wiping her nose incessantly, a blue medical mask dangling uselessly from her chin. or a smiley old man who asked me several times for help with his crossword puzzle at the bus stop — requesting that i "put something in the google" for him. then there was that fellow from the retirement home behind my place, who would roll up to the park on a creaky bike and throw the birds old bread, nuts and weird extras like boiled eggs. (isn't it kind of fucked up to feed eggs to birds?) anyway, he'd smile and coo like they were his babies. he reminded me of the man from the pixar chess short.
i like to study people. to think of them as characters whose lives weave in and out of the fringes of mine. perhaps it is wrong of me to do so; perhaps it is a disservice to make such assumptions and embellishments, but i recognize that i can only understand who they are to me, and whether or not they would agree with my conclusions of their character is rather secondary. life is a story i keep on telling to myself.
lately, my "real life" and my "internet life" have begun colliding a lot more than they used to. this makes me want to self-censor sometimes, which i don't like. i want my work to be weird and cute and anguished and honest without fearing that like, people will ask me if i'm ok (it's happened). (i'm fine.) (this is what internet children do, we pour our feelings out online.)
"i can't write about you because you'll read it" is a cute little paradox. i could be writing about my lover, or my enemy, or that friend who found my instagram page, or that guy who likes all my posts, or i could be writing about you.
i can't write about you because you'll read it, and yet, i just did.
launching my website!
i hemmed and hawed over this for a while. is a website really necessary, when i already have what feels like 47 different social profiles and a linktree? technically...no, it probably isn't. but a website allows me the privilege of better controlling how my work is perceived: it puts everything into one place, and i get to curate it carefully.
my goal for the next 3-6 months is to focus on and expand my portfolio of 3d work. i will still create pieces for my internet diary project; there i would like to focus on more narrated prose pieces and other experiments in methods of expression.
paragraph will be a repository for updates about new work, process and progress pieces, and of course, i'm a blogger at heart, so expect all kinds of oversharing.
check it out and let me know what you think: https://www.tinyrainboot.com/
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