5/12/21 feel bad, can't breathe, can't really think or do anything it's like i'm forgetting to breathe it's like i have to remind myself to breathe thinking about it makes it worse i don't even know if i should be writing because thinking is part of the problem and writing is a form of thinking but i am told that it's a kind of therapy so we are kind of fucked in this regard aren't we? if we were to think in images, the first thing i can think of is the color blue, mostly because i just finished watching season one of "love death and robots". the last episode, the season finale, is called "zima blue" and [spoilers] it's about an individual who seems to want to paint the universe blue. maggie nelson already explored blue ad nauseam, so i don't feel the need to explore that theme here. what i do need to do is *survive*, and art is a survivial mechanism, right? it's a way for us to enchant our brains into the next day. the problem is the distribution of writing. the internet is okay for sharing information, but it lacks the holiness, the sanctity of reading a book. with a book, you are alone, you can let your guard down and share secrets. twitter is not for secrets. tiktok is not for secrets. where am i supposed to put all of my quiet feeligns? do i hide them in indie sites, secret minimalist bloggos? are.na comes to mind as a good place to plant these things, or hosting your own site if you have the resources to do that. by resources i mean the know-how to make a secret little mini site, the way rives does it at shopliftwindchimes.com. yes, that might be the way to do it, to carve your own little secret space somewhere and drop off those secrets for someone to find them, the same way folks find secrets when they browse their local secondhand bookstore.