THIS IS A LIVE DOCUMENT. THE STORY IS ONGOING. RIGHT NOW, THE LAST EDIT ENDS AT NOV 4 2020 AT 1:55:50 PM PST.
Twenty or so miles south of North Bend, Washington on the night before The Election of Twenty-Twenty, I sit with my 9 year old macbook pro on the table before me.
I haven’t ordered yet. I should get the wild salmon, long grain rice and broccoli, but I’m going to get the Moons Over My Hammy, the best-named sandwich ever. I haven’t …
‘Waiting for a Star to Fall’ is playing on the radio. …
Shit got real as my American Airlines flight on September 10th started to descend into PDX and the smell of smoke filled the cabin and everyone got really quiet. I saw no signs of the giant blazes strewn across the north west
I’d purchased my ticket to move to Portland 10 days earlier, before the fires had started, and by the time I landed my new home was ablaze literally as well as figuratively.
Life is a foreseen self-fulfilling prophecy in the middle of all my timey-wimey shit. …
I’m stuck in my own prison wiping my digital feces on my facebook wall, here at the end of everything.
At the end of my digital facebook life.
It’s hard for a writer to kill off a beloved character — near impossible in the Marvel Universe, anyway — everyone gets to live until suddenly a snap comes and half of everything goes away to keep entropy in balance… more on this some other time.
If there is still Time.
WHRO is going to start a new division because of the lack of Journalism in hampton roads? Jesus, I hope themanagement…
One of my oldest friends just said something which ends a discussion with me every single time. “I’m worried about you.”
It’s done, you’re over. If you want to express anything other than the mundane, or in some cases anything that disagrees with the other person in the conversation, and someone has already said in one way or another “This sounds like your mental health issues” You’re done. Game set match. There’s nothing you can say at that point to talk your way out of it.
This is madness. Unless you’ve been in this position, you can’t see it. Other…
This is a dialogue I am having with a girl named katelyn? Yes. It’s Katelyn. phew. I thought I’d forgotten. Anyway, she can’t hear, mostly. She can read lips like a motherfucker, though. It’s pretty impressive, actually. She doesn’t know a single fucking piece of ASL (American Sign Language) Actually, she said she knows a couple letters, asshole.
Anyway, we met under the most unusual circumstances, but those don’t really matter. What matters is that she can’t hear and I want to have a conversation faster than we have been having.
She can read words on a screen much faster…
Can you still remember what happened on an episode of a show you’ve been watching a week ago?
How well can you navigate your own town without a GPS compared to 10 years ago?
How good are you at telling someone what you’re doing for the rest of the week without looking at your phone? How long has it been this way?
When was the last time you went half a day without losing your concentration or forgetting what you were doing?
When was the last time you read an entire book and retained the details from the beginning to…
I really wish you wouldn’t skim this, but I’m pretty sure nobody knows how not to, anymore. Thanks terms and conditions.
This is both the present landing page for SpaceCadet.com, and an explanation of what’s going on, as best as I can presently explain it. You are reading the introduction to the culmination of a 7 year project that sits on the back of a project that started before my first memories.
Whatever state the Space Cadet Project is in, this page should tell you, and archive the previous versions.
My universe cracked open back in 2012, thanks to a…
Most of the time, I feel whatever I write falls on deaf ears — not a deficiency of the reader, but of garbled transmission. If I could make myself heard, C3P0s, I know the reaction would be different. I responded to a forum post meant for a very particular audience that would be indecipherable here, but encouraged by the response, I was able to make the translation.
I got a really good feeling about this.
The following meditation was written with my eyes closed as I was falling asleep. It is completely unedited, save for this introduction, pictures, and text…
it’s weird being me. it’s weird that i’m a guy who thinks to himself, ‘what if this time i write without using capital letters? what would that look like? would people read it differently?
dimension(well, its weird that i talk about it anyway.)
imagine if instead not just your language
being regional, but also geometrical,
according to personality or the
closest possible agreed on
we can agree upon
black or white hat
r u red or blue?
Another soldier has risked absolutely everything to flee across the line to South Korea. Near certain death — or much worse to escape what can be called one of the absolute worst places to live on earth.
I have many problems with American foreign policy. I can’t believe we elected Donald Trump, nor can I believe Democrats got behind Hillary Clinton, who was unquestionably corrupt and deceitful, and possibly even traitorous.
I feel helpless and alone without a voice as journalism has devolved into shallow ESPN-like entertainment. The majority of my fellow citizens are distracted by simplistic, one dimensional views…