ancestry offers no consolation for me. while my curiosity takes me into my family’s past i have no desire to claim a relationship with people from eons past. whether i came from dirt farmers or kings is inconsequential to my current place in time.

as i sit here, now, at 1 in the morning the idea of past riches, great triumphs or terrible defeats offers no solace for me when all i want is a quesadilla from Taco Bell.

the last post was brought to you by insomnia, depression and watching Grave of the Fireflies at a late hour.

and now, this night, i’ve spent way too much time on the DataHoarder subReddit

all of this is part of the process for creation. the artistic act, for me, is birthed from nostalgia, depression and disillusionment.

where it’ll take me today is undecided.

and i’m still watching old x-files.

i don’t know why this is titled source control. i assume the idea was appropriate when i began this file hours and a day ago but it has ceased to be.

my conflict is always between the knowledge how it can be versus the reality of how it is.

regardless of the actual physical cause of death this conflict is the source of it.

Butterfly Effect was the death of me.

wanderings through memory - an exploration