Notes from a Substrate Custodian
There is a specific brand of optimism required to own a Vampire Crab. The name itself suggests a certain gothic drama – tiny, purple aristocrats lurking on mossy crags, perhaps plotting a gentle coup of the living room. I prepared for my role as a prestigious curator, envisioning a glass cathedral of ferns and mist.…
The Tragedy of the Monogamous Gaze
There is a particular brand of modern heroism required to sit in a darkened room for two hours and look at only one thing. We call it “cinema,” but for those of us with minds like caffeinated hummingbirds, it feels less like art and more like a hostage negotiation with a projector. I find myself…
The Professional Ghost Logs On
Being sick used to be an event. A clear interruption. I would wake up, assess the situation honestly, and conclude that today I would contribute nothing to society except perhaps a damp impression on the couch. My absence was the point. My body had staged a quiet coup, and everyone agreed to respect it. Now,…
Frequently Wrong, Rarely in Doubt 