This weekend I’m busy, so I’ve collected and edited 15 thoughts jotted into my notebook over the last few months. Some are quite random and may be a bit strange, but I chose them for the conversations they seem to have with each other.
I used a random number generator to put them in this order.
For fun, you could REorder them—just set the parameters of the generator to “15 random integers between 1 and 15 with unique values.”
- I worry about missing moments of change, not because I’d want to stop them but because I’m afraid of having nothing to remember.
- Once I dreamt of a house constructed from lint, and, every time it rained, I reshaped it with bare hands.
- I can’t be the only person who thinks numbers have personalities.
- In my urban neighborhood, I see the same unacknowledged faces everyday… but I bet I’ve said so before.
- Replacing dates of the year with colors might set time free at last.
- One of the floodlights in our kitchen emits a nearly inaudible high-pitched tone, and, once I hear it, I begin to think it’s screaming.
- My vocabulary is finite—how do I ever reach anything new? Perhaps I’ve only forgotten what my brain has already said.
- What would my neighbors think if I numbered all of the uncollected dog shit on our block?
- In a meeting, I began to imagine amusement parks have opposites. All the gray rides and attractions aimed at tedium and boredom.
- The thought of being heard keeps me silent; the thought of silence gives me peace.
- Every day I pass ghostly landmarks, memories my mind is too lazy to retrieve fully but which still emit faint feelings.
- Of all my senses, smell seems to grow stronger… because what I’ve seen and heard before fades from notice.
- I’m sick of the cut and paste conversations patching my life.
- What people call metaphors are animals lured from hiding places: we knew they were there and hadn’t seen them.
- Some ideas are clay, others dust—you hope for water.