where thoughts materialise.

interface II

So we're into the sixth version of my blog after the last version hung around for a year or so.

Now, a bit of info on this image. This photo was taken one lovely spring afternoon, featuring the iconic Old Well from the UNC Chapel Hill campus. I would like to think of this image as a tribute to my time in UNC Chapel Hill, the awesome friends I made and the memories I now hold dear.

A milestone in my life indeed.

I've dropped the tagboard cos its useless and taking eons to load. But thanks to Angela who helped me set it up, I still do like and will miss the pink interface.

So yeah, it's the sixth one you fellas!

Yours.

27 April 2008

the best things..

you know you miss my older entries

October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008

awesome is she

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Night.

I logged on to the net. There were no emails for me. You had run out on the story. Run out on me. Vanished.

I typed in your address.
Nothing.

Here I am like a pertinent in a confessional. I want to tell you how I feel, but there's nobody on the other side of the screen.

What did I expect?

This is a virtual world. This is a world inventing itself. Daily, new landmasses form and then submerge. New continents of thought break off from the mainland. Some benefit from a trade wind, some sink without a trace. Others are like Atlantis - fabulous, talked about, but never found.

Found objects wash up on the shores of my computer. Tin cans and old tyres mix with the pirate's stuff. The buried treasure is really there, but caulked and outlandish. Hard to spot because unfamiliar, and few of us can see what has never been named.

I'm looking for something, it's true.

I'm looking for the meaning inside the data.

That's why I trawl my screen like a beachcoomber - looking for you, looking for me, trying to see through the disguise. I guess I have been looking for us both all my life.

nimgnoy let the night fall at 11:49 PM

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