Because I forget stuff. Part of norcimo.com
Posts about moments which may become memories and memories which were those moments.
Posted into:
on July 20 2008 at 17:07
It seems to take me about a week to manage to write about anything at the moment; anything substantial anyway. Ah well, such is life. So this is about last weekend. Seems so long ago, and just like yesterday.
Posted into:
on September 9 2007 at 19:09
Anyone with something like organisation probably wouldn’t end up going to London and back two days in a row, but that’s how these things go. Getting somewhat (pleasantly) distracted when I got back off the trains at last probably didn’t help. That sort of wrote of the next day too. So, as I basically give up trying to catch up on most news, I wonder if I missed anything…
Posted into:
on April 8 2007 at 22:04 You can decrypt this if you're Able to successfully elicit the password
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Continue reading the rest of this post
Decrypt Text (If you're: Able to successfully elicit the password)
Posted into:
on May 18 2006 at 17:05
There are posts hidden away in draft which will probably never see the light of day. Never be known to anyone but me. Not because the writing is any worse than other things I’ve published. Not because they’re half finished. This blog talks of me but it hides the shades within which I don’t dare scratch the surface of. For I am scared that the surface is all that holds me together, like a thin layer of paint speaking of the ghost of a collapsed inner shell.
The things hidden are true thoughts, raw feelings. Some—they know who they are—have seen some of that written raw across me. Those that tried to find some way to erase are thanked. Others are simply begged. Even this, now, is a mirror to deflect away from truely seeing.
Some things can’t be said.
Posted into:
on February 14 2006 at 23:02
I’ve been thinking a personal blog should probably say something today (check the date). This is about the third or fourth drafting of a possibility. And in the end I’ve decided all those words I might have written can stay that way. Those who count know all the things I’d say anyway. By complete coincidence between writing this version and hitting publish I rediscovered this post. Funny how things written back then can sound so true in this context too; so I suppose they can be almost the words I say.
I still believe this. I miss my cat.
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