ram red awake red (2025/06/16)
you awake with a jolt but your eyes won't open your body strains your heart is racing your head is spinning you awake with your eyes half open lids pulled down by a force you've never dealt with before you awake right as your car rams into the RAM rams into your psyche rambling raving tossing toiling as your palace your home your safe haven your chariot rolls and rolls and rams a wall rams you awake with a jolt your dash lights up you awake with a call emergency services the touchscreen touchscreen the red button on the red touchscreen you press to dial you press to dial your red finger ram the touchscreen it wont press you ram you jam you red you red you red
[blood pools from your finger onto the capacitive touchscreen of your car's dash. you are unable to press the button to call emergency services]
faggot jumpscare (2025/05/07)
there's a special phenomenon that pervades dutch normality-culture that i've grown to call the "faggot jumpscare". most often this one happens in the check-out line; at the supermarket, gas station, etc. you join the line and stand behind a tall, masculine figure with his back turned to you. they're not always these things but they're usually these things for one reason or another they turn around and
BAM, FAGGOT
i've seen them flinch before. pink hair, fishnets, a face full of piercings and balls full of urine. sometimes they're caught off guard, sometimes they try and break eye contact, sometimes they look down. like they're expecting to find some kind of answer hidden below my waist.
this happens to me every two to four weeks.
(salvaged from a notebook, originally april 2025)
0 new messages (2025/05/07)
I go to Discord, there's nothing. I check Telegram, there's nothing. WhatsApp, there's nothing. I click and it suddenly takes an eternity to load, and I realise I'm not connected. Literally every app on my phone is too spineless to tell me I'm not connected to the internet and is building up a Truman show façade around me from cached data
(dug up from a group chat, originally 2024/08/10)
a supermarket that is filled entirely with rows upon rows of self checkout kiosks. (2025/05/07)
a lot capable of accommodating over six dozen people as they navigate the arcane and unforgiving menus. a cacophony of instructions spoken by a machine-synthesized voice. a battallion of assistants and shrinkage prevention teams on stand-by to repeat the machine's instructions in peoplespeak for those not willing to listen.
r&d sank millions of dollars into market analysis, focus groups, surveys, consumer research and profiling, and concluded that the items for sale that should occupy the limited amount of retail space should have as broad of an appeal as possible to lure in the most customers. as such, the only thing they sell is wooden forks. some say it's the most colossal, ruthlessly efficient retail centre the world has ever seen. a powerhouse of commercialist capitalism. a modern day market for the modern person
you go in. you pick a fork. you pick a cubicle. you are flagged for a random search. they demand to see your bag and find a wooden spoon. you are promptly charged with shoplifting.
cataloguing my thoughts (2025/05/07)
passing stories and places and situations and dilemmas that come and slip out of my mind before you can say "hey that reminds me of a song..." maybe i can trap their essence in a concrete tomb of words somehow like catching farts in a bottle and stack them up on a shelf for display. no doubt the smell will fade but maybe in the future a single whiff could remind me. some of these don't belong buried at the bottom of a group chat or scribbled in chickenscratch on a notepad