I think the thing about J dying last summer was that it felt so sad, so especially sad because we were all out of this program, jettisoned out only just a little bit. and J was someone one could count on to be wild, to push a little bit, to be self-directed, focused. dreams of a cnc router in the garage, skating all over the city, painting murals on walls. looking back on this log it seems like I only mentioned it once, really, but it seems obvious to me that the afterimage of an event smeared itself across the next few weeks and months and left a distinct aftertaste; the promise of futures, some readjustment of the idea of fulfillment, a withdrawal from a public, some re-questioning of what I was doing what I was doing, and which path one chooses to take.

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and now? I repeat this path again and hover/circulate/orbit around the main point. avoid statements.