This is not a media outlet. Not a blog. Not even a digital garden. This is an art project in the shape of a mind.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
- Nothing here is fact.
- Everything is fiction.
- I’m not convinced fact ever existed.
(But I’m certain fiction does.)
WHY THIS EXISTS
- Because minds need homes too.
The internet is either a marketplace or a museum. This is neither—it’s a squatter’s shack built on digital bedrock, where I nail new thoughts to the walls each dawn. - Because creation is rebellion. I write essays that pretend to understand the world and poetry that admits it never will. I keep an art diary where horses still look like cockroaches, and that’s the point.
- Because I owe my ghosts. Some thank-yous are overdue.
WHAT THIS COSTS YOU
Nothing. I’m not selling — I’m screaming into the void with style.
But if you’d like to throw roses (or rocks) into the void with me:
PATRONS » For those who’d fuel the scream
CORRESPONDENTS » For fellow void-dwellers