07_10_26

July 10th 2025:

i really wanted a playstation when i was growing up 
i remember i would play vibribbon or whatever its called on my cousins cousins (yeah) ps1 with his super mer ka 2 cd and that was awesome and shit but at the time i couldnt appreciate it because i didnt know anything at all

...

if i believe in ghosts that means theres a chance i have to keep wandering this gay ass earth after i die and frankly thats too terrifying to consider so i refuse to believe in ghosts on principle

i had more thoughts, but i forgot them along the way. this album is nice. its helped me deal with dead people and people that would rather be dead than talk to me. its helped me reason it all in such a weird universe. the internet too. i miss my mom, i kinda miss the fling, i miss some friends i stopped talking to, i miss people i know (and didnt know) that died. whatever. theres ghosts haunting this album and thats why its called ghost pop. maybe one day ill be one of those but this wasnt written for me to wish that.

i wrote this on a review and then i deleted that review forever ((not actually but its unpublished so youll never find the account i posted it on ((not that youd want to read the full thing anyway))))
 

...

wyats the significance of star city missouri

michigan 

oh well 

i guess i could write about that one of these days
when i find an album more pertinent to stars youll see
ghosts and stars are kinda My Thing if you will

...

so much not caring about ghosts just for all the people you like to be dead

July 3rd 2026:

Maybe we meet in the next plane.

July 9th 2026:

I would like to hedge a bet towards the future. Everything behind me is seemingly once again "collapsing at the seams" like how I described it last year, so maybe structuralism was a flawed attempt at perspective. I would like to believe the future holds something nicer for me. I would like to believe the future will stem its arms and spread them out to hold me for a little bit. And I may shiver, and the future may not be any warmer at all, but the mere grasp will keep me from shuddering for just a little while.

$$ 

Maybe I should get back into Anti-Idle. 

July 10th 2026:

Crying whilst listening to 20,000 Deaths for Eidelyn Gonzalez & Jamie Peterson. Where have we gone? Where will we go? It's time to pray and pray. Another sickly sentimental story tonight: A young boy was held up in strings by the children's hospital, and his caregiver was loft and unoccupied with her duties. She told the boy to find some courage in his self and pick up the glass that was by the end of his table, and so he tried, and so he failed. The glass splintered off into a million cords and chords, and tomorrow the boy will be mercy-killed by the caregiver, as the strings holding him by are growing too large and dissonant. They each emit some frequency and it's all starting to escape the human range of hearing. Tonight the boy will cry, he does not have a favorite song because he never got to hear one. He does not have a favorite toy because he did not get to play with one. He does not have any hobbies, he does not have a favorite meal, he has never seen the color purple. Tomorrow the sky will fade into maroon obscurity as he is brought onwards. Tomorrow night the rain will be purple.