i have fallen into a hole known as constant content consumption. the very thing i tend to criticise people for. unfortunately, escape gets harder the longer you reside inside, but i have only been imprisoned a week ago or so, i still have hope.

from automatic hedonism to manual masochism i go. no youtube, no music, no social media, no crisps, none of that. the most stimulating thing i can do is now to create something.

i got a mechanical pencil and it has finally revived my desire to write on paper, but i dont know what to do with this desire because i prefer to publish as many things i write as possible. i cannot do that with paper, unless, i suppose, i scan it. maybe i will. i actually have what could be viewed as a self written. two of them, even, but they are analog. little traces of graphite on sheets of processed wood.

i also need to become somewhat chronically offline again. i havent been outside enough, i havent interacted with humans enough, i havent made enough things with my hands. i need to discard my phone for the time being. i am turning it off. no more. the next time i turn it on will be to show my train ticket, nothing else. fuck this slab of fake stimulation.