It's strange how in adulthood feelings I had when I was young come back, just the same, as if some perceiving center was always fully formed, only to be rediscovered. I went camping Saturday night (alone, as I usually do) I was struck by that several times. First the shadows of the mountains, then the stillness of the woods at night, the way that the morning sun ricochets off of mountain peaks. The Los Angeles Forest is a lot like the Cascades, or at least enough to trick the memories I have of her.

I spent a good while under the moonlight, wandering. I found a cleanly cut stump large enough to prostrate myself across, under the endless night sky. It was a warmish night, a bit windy and I was far from the other campers. There was some soothing quality to it all. The space was all too hospitable for what it was.

Moonlight in that setting seems to speak to some natural part of me, it feels far richer than a memory foam bed in a temperature controlled room, which seems sterile, artifical in contrast.

I didn't sleep well (points for the memory foam I guess), spent some time passing the insomnia reading Amanda Montell's "The Age of Magical Thinking". I was in the part where she discusses social media and the rise of spiritualistic gurus that pass off pseudo-science as a form of "accessible therapy", preying on our built-in cognitive shortcomings. There was some minor note on how some degree of feeling spiritually connected to inanimate objects, like trees, may be normal and healthy, while ascribing greater meaning to events, as if they are conjured by the universe, may not be.

That thought trail was still echoing as I got up in the morning. I was inexplicably excited by that early dewey light. I wandered into a little grove and up into the foothills a little ways. There I found a few fallen trees that formed sort of a natural hammock, I lay down across it as the morning sun creeped in. I was reminded of my cats who seem to have a knack of finding places to cozy into, and unapologetically lounge. The universe may not contain some grand meaning, but there was some comforting sense of belonging there.

I think it has to do with how nature encounters you, just as you are; some other earthling cropped up from her roots.

If you've come to this page, it's likely that I exist to you as some digital simulacra of the being behind it. A few photos, maybe an article or some professional page you've found. Maybe you've met me in real life, and are now looking to fill in the gaps. The sleuthiness of it can make you feel like you're really getting to the bottom of it all. "I have a great intuition for people," I hear you say.

At 13 I would, embarrassingly, refresh the page to restart the playlist of my crush's decked-out MySpace profile (vaguely remembering Gwen Stefani at the top). The whole experience of fawning over a crush online is inherently twitterpating; gushing over her pictures, basking in a more intimate connection via the digital experience she had curated than perhaps my shyness, and frankly lackluster looks, allowed me to form in real life.

You know, typical human internet shit.

At 33 this whole place hits a bit different. Many seemingly benign or maybe even beneficial platforms have evolved to become extractive at the expense of their users, and perhaps to some extent, society at large. In America the siren of maximizing shareholder value has had that effect on a few things. I'm somewhat more cautious now about the digital representation that folks shroud themselves in. Some people are genuinely photogenic; some have an intuitive sense, or perhaps honed skill, for what sells online. A very beautiful friend of mine once confided in me that she views the attention she receives online as a sort of vice. Some enjoy it, many do not.

I think you and I can and should agree that both of us exist wholly outside of our little non-chat that we're having here. I'm not saying that as a call to action for you to get to know the real thing; what I'm saying is I'm just a nerdy boy who lured you here to my dumb little website -- that's mostly what the internet is, and a few collective trillion in market cap say it's working. I'm not sure the globby machinery between our ears can really do the long division well enough to faithfully acknowledge to what extent we're fulfilling the drives that bring us here.

Refreshing my crush's MySpace profile didn't amount to much, if you can imagine.

If I am to be stalked let it be my thoughts. Don't worry, I won't know you read them, besides, I made them available to you. You'll have to form your own judgments about me -- refresh the page if you'd like.

This site?

I don't know.. call it 'tech brutalism'. It feels nostalgic for me. It reminds of a version of the web that eschews all of the things that I dislike about it.

I associate unstyled, or minimally styled sites with everything I loved about what the web could be. I suppose I'm in an era where I'm re-examining and re-inventing my relationship with the internet and technology -- maybe I'm just not one for half measures. Besides, when monetizing attention is a central facet of what the internet has become, what could be more rebellious and liberating than being brittle, unpolished.

A simple static site like this, with no trackers, no javascript, no platform, no monetization, feels more authentic to me. No like button, no comments, no upsell (there is a way to 'subscribe' via an RSS feed, which I've added and wholly support, but I won't know that you have done so).

The joy of my own little corner here for its own sake -- I'll take your browser defaults.

On some level I'm also aware that I'm just driveling my own thoughts here. To then add css classes to dress them up feels, well.. over the top. Then again, maybe this is.

Stylesheets have baggage, and I'm over it.

Chicken doesn't play fetch, maybe it's just not her thing.. or she's too dumb.

I'm alone. The weight of my of my loneliness sometimes feels light. Sometimes I wear it like a soaked trench coat. It's safe to be alone. No one can leave me. No one else to build a life around and no way to lose it. It's stable. It's secure. I hardly meet anyone for whom I'd wish to part with it. On some level I'm afraid that that will always be the case. Or am I afraid? Am I.. resolute? I don't want to end up this way, and yet here I am, ending up this way. I suppose I view it as a pit stop, to some other grand adventure, and yet the way it sulks around me it feels inevitable.

Noodle drops the little plushie bird in front of me, looking expectedly up at me with those big glassy eyes. I pull him in for a warm hug -- he does not appreciate the hug, he wanted me to throw the bird.

I saw someone I dated for a bit today. I was the one who ended things. I still miss being close with her. She has a new boyfriend, I met him, briefly. He seems nice.