Tag: Writing
March 6, 2025 / Journal

Commenting About Comments

I have a script that I installed here on the website called “On This Day” and I love it. Every day I can look back on the past posts for varying reasons. Now I have a new reason- the comments section.

I’ll re-read the post and make comments underneath it based on my what I’ve learned since then, re-assess my beliefs, remind myself of why I wrote it to begin with etc.

This is some next-level recursion. Commenting on my comments? Footnoting my own footnotes? That’s practically building a self-referential hypertext labyrinth. It’s breaking the fourth wall, but in a way that makes invisible thought processes visible.

Each article will become a living, evolving document instead of just a static collection.

Of course this is only day one, so anything written on March 6 in the past will receive the new marginalia. Looking forward to tomorrow’s!
March 1, 2025 / Art

What Does Art Ask Of Me?

I ask for so much from art but sometimes I think I offer nothing in return.

After years of thinking this way, I realized that art asks for my attention and focus. Not my perfection, not my productivity—just me. Art asks you to show up, to listen, to engage. It asks for your willingness to wrestle with uncertainty, to risk vulnerability, to sit in the silence where ideas form ( if you can do so, you are more disciplined than I am.)

Art doesn’t demand grand gestures. It doesn’t care if you have all the answers. What it craves is your attention, your curiosity, your willingness to let it lead sometimes. It wants you to trust it, even when it makes no sense.

Previously I mentioned that “I offer nothing in return”, but consider this: you give art a space to exist. Without you, it would remain unmade. You give it form, even if only in fragments. You give it life, even if only for yourself.

What happens if you start treating art like a relationship rather than a transaction? What if, instead of asking art to serve you, you asked how you could serve it? What might it become if you gave it your trust, your time, your patience? Then I thought:

Art is a companion. Maybe that’s all it’s ever asked of you.

Whoa.

Yeah, that one got me. Sometimes we get so caught up in getting something from our art—validation, meaning, escape—that we forget it’s alive in its own way. It wants something from us, too. Maybe just a little reverence. Maybe just to be made without expectation. Maybe just to exist without needing to prove itself.

Art is weird like that. It mirrors what we bring to it. If we demand, it resists. If we fear, it hesitates. But if we listen, art speaks to us. .
February 28, 2025 / Journal

Twenty-Five Years

Greetings, programs! This is the obligatory first post

2000-02-28

That was the little snippet that started it all.

A quarter of a century ago, I sat down at a keyboard on the Compaq desktop tower and hit “Publish” on my first blog post, and unknowingly stepped into a lifelong experiment in writing, documenting, and occasionally rambling into the void. It was the year 2000—before social media, before SEO strategies, before every website felt the need to bombard you with cookie pop-ups and newsletter sign-ups. Back then, blogging was raw, weird, and deeply personal. No algorithms, just people carving out little digital corners for themselves. And somehow, through all the shifting landscapes of the internet, I never stopped.

The early days were chaotic in the best way possible. There was no roadmap, just curiosity and a willingness to write even when I wasn’t sure if anyone was reading. The 2000s felt like the Wild Wild West1 of online writing—platforms came and went, everyone had a different idea of what blogging should be, and we all had to learn HTML the hard way. But it was exciting. The web felt infinite, and the act of writing and sharing was enough.

Somewhere along the way, blogging changed. It became polished, optimized, and, at times, painfully performative. Social media took over, and long-form writing became a bit of an endangered species. Yet, here I am, still typing away, still finding reasons to keep at it. Because at its core, blogging was never about trends or algorithms for me—it was about the ideas, the experiments, the stories, and the strange little things worth documenting.

So, what does 25 years of blogging look like? It looks like evolution. It looks like stubborn persistence. It looks like a digital archive of thoughts, questions, and maybe a few typos that have somehow survived across decades. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: Write for yourself first. Everything else—readers, engagement, impact—comes as a bonus.

To those who have read, commented, lurked, or stumbled across my website over the years—thank you. Here’s to whatever comes next.

  1. As opposed to World Wide Web ↩︎
February 22, 2025 / Reading

Hypertext Labyrinth

The experimental website framework I want to build will exist in the space between what is known and what refuses to be known. A static HTML-only archive that resists explanation. It presents itself as something incomplete, something forgotten, or something deliberately obscured, leaving behind only classified remnants, misplaced coordinates, glitched anomalies, and misfiled receipts that hint at a larger, unseen structure. The layers go deep with hidden pages, cryptic labels peeling at the edges, references that lead nowhere, and timestamps that don’t quite add up.

404: Lost Coordinates

404: You Are Here.

The map is incomplete, but the numbers remain:

37.9015° N, 23.7261° E

Look deeper. It was never lost.

Return

Some things were removed. Some things never existed. Some things moved while you weren’t looking. It is an experiment in next-level mischief, a system designed to pull at the edges of curiosity while leaving just enough behind to make you wonder what’s missing.

This website will feel like you are trying to solve the Rubick’s Cube but it fights back, constantly,

Why create something deliberately obscure? Why build a digital labyrinth with no clear purpose? Why make a repository of fragments, half-truths, and lost thoughts instead of a structured, polished archive?

This new site will be a map of ideas except it’s unfinished, glitching, and missing pieces. I’m creating a mental terrain where the act of getting lost is the goal.


February 19, 2025 / Journal

The Cemetery Of Forgotten Books

Inspired by The Cemetery of Forgotten Books, my Library of Unwritten Books is a deliberate archive of unfinished works—preserved not as lost projects, but as enduring records of creative exploration. Blending structured literary preservation with a sense of mystery, it stands as both an homage to my work and a reflection on the stories that remain untold.

Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s Cemetery of Forgotten Books is a vast, hidden library in Barcelona, safeguarding abandoned and forgotten stories from oblivion. Introduced in The Shadow of the Wind, it serves as both a literary mystery and a powerful symbol of storytelling’s enduring legacy.
February 16, 2025 / Journal

The Library Of Unwritten Books

The book writing has been stagnant lately, possibly because the elusive muse has been on holiday.

There are thirty five novels and short-stories I want to tell, as well as a few non-fiction titles.

Half-forgotten worlds, unfinished thoughts, stories waiting for their ending. Printing them and physically shelving them would make the weight of all those ideas tangible. A hierarchy of incompletion—from the one-page sparks of genius, to the near-finished epics that just wouldn’t cooperate. The thickest ones sitting there, mocking you, while the thinnest whisper, “You barely even tried.”

Marginalia would turn it into a meta-library—a collection not just of unfinished works but of the very thought processes, doubts, and moments of inspiration that led to their incompletion. Notes like:


• “Lost steam after realizing this was just me rewriting Jurassic Park with pelicans.”

• “Had a brilliant ending in mind… and then forgot it. Still bitter.”

• “Started strong. Got distracted by a different book idea. The cycle continues.”

It could even be a living document—a place where ideas might resurface, evolve, or finally find their way to completion years later. Or…they could be relegated into a literary morgue file—a final resting place for the stories that almost were. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about that. They don’t get finished, but they exist, preserved in their unfinished state like fossils of creativity.

So what is a possible resolution to this self-induced problem? How about two possible solutions?

I could print them up and perhaps put them in a labeled binder. Also PDF’s uploaded to this website and generate digital library cards if there was any interest from the followers here.

A fantastic mix of a physical archive and a digital curiosity cabinet. The binders give them a tangible presence, while the PDFs turn them into an interactive experience. The digital library card idea is genius—makes it feel like a proper literary vault people can “check out” from. In turn, they could offer comments and suggestions. The access point is signing up to this website and add a comment to the written document. Hopefully there will be inspiration found from this.

This could turn the  Library of Unwritten Books into a collaborative storytelling experiment—where readers don’t just consume the work but actively speculate, suggest, and even contribute. Some might leave wild theories, others might fill in the blanks, and a few might even inspire to return to an abandoned story with fresh eyes.

The digital library card could have a simple yet classic aesthetic, tying into the raw, archival feel of the project. Think of it like a virtual passport to the library of unfinished stories. Here’s how it might look:

Front of the Card:

• Library Name: “Library of Unwritten Books” (in elegant, typewriter-style font for that vintage touch).

• Cardholder Name: Reader’s name

• Unique Card Number: A random, system-generated number to make it feel official (e.g., #MOM12345).

• Card Issue Date: The date they accessed the library or “checked out” a work.

Back of the Card:

• Quote or Motto: A philosophical nod to unfinished work, like:

• “Not all who wander are lost. Some just never finish.”

• “Creativity never stops—some stories just pause for a while.”

• Borrower’s Log Link: A link or QR code that takes them to the comments section of this website.

• Library Rules: Something playful like “No overdue fines” or “This book may never be completed, but its story is far from over.”

Physical Archive

There’s something deeply satisfying about preserving your ideas, no matter how unfinished. It’s like building your own literary museum, a space where unfinished thoughts don’t get lost but instead are archived and given a place in history.

Plus, the idea of printing, binding, and shelving them gives a real physicality to your creative process.

Whether it stays small or expands over time, it can become a personal artifact that might even spark inspiration years down the road. These unfinished works will outlive me, sparking something in others to finish, reinterpret, or continue. It’s like planting seeds that may grow long after I’ve moved on, and in some way, I’d still be creating, even if a single one is never complete. I might not get to see the story finish, but I’ll leave behind a trail of possibilities for others to follow. A literary treasure map—unfinished, mysterious, and full of potential.
November 30, 2024 / Writing

Novembook Day 30

Well, my ass was in the seat and my fingers are callused, but I did manage to go over the goal line and complete 30,000 words in 30 days. My self-imposed writing goal was a personal challenge to inspire myself to write another novel.

Disclaimer: It is in now way ready for anything other than a lot of edits in the near future!

November 4, 2024 / Journal

Not a-Mused

Ah, the elusive muse! Sometimes it feels like she has a mind of her own, appearing only when she pleases. Maybe she’s lurking somewhere unexpected—in a new environment, a favorite book, or even a conversation. Sometimes shifting my perspective or doing something entirely unrelated to writing can coax it back out. Taking the pressure off can often help inspiration flow again when she feels distant.

I read a few inspired quotes and articles earlier, rode the bicycle a bit, and even made guacamole from a huge avocado off the tree.

Inspiration often finds its way back when it feels like you’re not chasing it.
November 1, 2024 / Journal

Novembook 1st

Right. It is the first day of the eleventh month and it is time to put ass to chair and write a novel in thirty days.

I am procrastinating. Not my fault really, just dealing with some life issues here such as legal issues, potential new career and a family member flying down here for the week.

30,000 words in thirty days to develop a rough draft for this new novel. No fussing over function, grammar or missteaks. That is what the writing software, Ulysses, lives for. He just looooves to remind me about those punctuation marks being in the wrong place, or being completely ignored altogether. He red-flagged that “missteaks” mistake too. Damn, nothing gets by him.

Did I tell myself I was going to wean off of the soda this month? Did I tell myself that I had not and will continue to suck those down frequently? At least until December 1st anyway.

The sun is almost up, the body has been cleansed, the soda is on the desk so I am out of excuses.

Let’s write this thing.

P.S. Ulysses missed a comma that I intentionally left out. I win.

October 31, 2024 / Writing

I Am A Writer

I make negative dollars for my writing, the collection is mostly on the internet, which costs money. It also costs me time, which is money. I’m the least profitable writer that I know.

I write to empty my brain, not to fill a page or a post on this site.

And I will keep doing it.

(maybe some day I will be an author)
October 29, 2024 / Journal

Novembook

About a month ago, I was reminded that November is approaching and to sign up again for NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month.) Do I really want to dedicate an entire month to cranking out the minimum requirement of 50,000 words for that month? Having bouts of inspiration for the past year seemed to encourage me to go ahead and register again

Two days out from the start of the event and all is quiet on their website, almost a ghost town. After researching this, I discovered the organization has a few scandalous issues coming from it, so I decided I was done with NANOWRIMO forever. Well, still encouraged by those inspirational bouts, I have decided to press on next month, but go my own way.

I have christened this challenge as “Novembook.” A thirty-day challenge to myself to write a 30,000 word draft for the new novel. That is 1,000 words a day, and more realistic than that organization’s 50,000 standard.

I know the title is cheesy, but it was better than “Novelmber”. Reminds me of my 31-day blog posting for the month of “Blaugust.” That was a fun, successful challenge!

Why do I do this to myself? Because I lack discipline and require prompts to keep it going. Not to mention, time and opportunity is running out, and this book won’t write itself.
October 28, 2024 / Journal

SubStack

I just signed up to publish a newsletter via the Substack platform. I wanted and needed an outlet away from this personal space for more… external writings. Most of this platform will be dedicated to the Explore More book as a companion to it.

Will it amount to something? I hope so. I do not want a social media presence again so maybe this is the happy medium I was looking for.

You can find the link on the Newsletter page here.

October 27, 2024 / Journal

The Struggle

In the past, I used to be a popular writer. Now, I’m certain that my closest friends or family do not read my work, even here in my home. I cheer and actively support them, so one would hope there would be some interest. Even feigned.

How do I expect to grow an audience for my future writing endeavors? Sad, but it could also bring freedom. I write for myself here, creating what ever strikes my fancy, knowing most of it will vanish into the void. That’s fine—writing is an introspective art that doesn’t need validation from others.

The struggle has been finding a clear direction. Spending years on a project no longer excites me. To balance this, I need to pursue what I’m passionate about and allow myself to finish things without committing to the epic novels in my head, or even a series. At this point, what am I passionate about? This struggle was mentioned earlier this week.

Since I am writing for myself currently, the goal for now is to make it as rewarding as possible.
October 21, 2024 / Journal

My heart and mind just aren’t into doing any book writing today. Or sort, edit, organize book notes. It seems my brain cranks out two days worth of good stuff and needs up to two weeks to recover and do it again. Vicious cycle indeed.

October 21, 2024 / Reading

Love and Hate

Writing a book is just like reading a book, except your book hates you.