Chinese finger cuffs.

I write an incessant number of notes. Some thought processes are unending and the notes I have accumulated on them span years. Notebooks are irrelevant, though, when you’re spanning the sides of skyscrapers. And for the life of me, every time I make it back to this place in my life, I can never find the notes I have accumulated on what to do here.

Mud, tar, and Chinese finger cuffs.

Get excited to get confused.

This rollercoaster ride is over.

¶ 2008·09·16