sssyn

there's a lot of muscle memory to dreamwidth for me, but like shifted slightly to the left. one knuckle's-length off. like i'm recovering from an injury and i don't quite know where the connecting points are any more; my nerves shifted, synapses delayed. LJ kept me alive a long time ago, but i didn't archive mine in the usual way, i published a whole book that reflected the form it gave my life when life itself felt it was slipping out from under my fingers. i mined the html of my memories and outsourced it completely in order to forget; people thought it was edgy, or whatever, but it was a grotesque, ugly thing. how do you return to an effigy you thought you'd already burned etc.

all to say, it's hard to sit in front of dreamwidth and have it feel like oh i can do fandom here. i don't think i can make that separation between fandom and life, typing into this familiar architecture that is also so fucking alien to how i understand myself in the present. all to say, i'm not sure what you'll find here, but probably feelings. i'd like to write more about objects in a casual way that isn't related to my job, so maybe some art, maybe some analysis. you'll get more of me here than you did on twitter either way. i hope you'll hold that lack of anonymity gently. i hope i can find a way to round out the partiality of my twitter thought.

thanks for bearing w me and happy scorpio season. may we all shed a skin~

xo,
syn