Images first:

trying index cards to help me in the "prewriting" stages of the book.

new arch linux workstation... It's a little messy but there's some intention there.

close up...

the table behind the workstation... another workstation but only for charcoal..pastel..index cards...etc...

some cards I put on the door to my bedroom. my neighbors (24 in total) will see this.

The card at the very bottom (with the most profanities) requiring the reader to get low...on the knees maybe. I think this is too big a challenge for most.

The top card says "lyla's bedroom". The rest are snippets from my book and I randomly composed some "tweets".

Dear diary,

I'm particularly fond of Sunday.
There are a few reasons.
For one, it's a day where I inject estradial valerate into my gluteus maximus.
The other day being wednesday...but there's not so much significance other than "wearing pink".
There is the obvious religious connotations that specialize Sunday for me. The "day of rest" and "lords day".
It's also the name my Grandfather gave to one of his girls in his large scale color pencil drawings.
"The Calendar Girl: You want to know what day it is?"
Before I realized two was one, the girl inside me was once called "Sunday".
I've yet said anything about my day today but it's a Sunday.
In writing and in monologue it's an endless stream.
with my 24 roommates I am inverse.
Anne Charlotte Robertson obsessively filmed herself to create her magnum opus "The Five Year Diary".
To me, she was a youtuber / vlogger before it came into being.
Since I saw some reels from her diary as well as her short films I could not get the diary out of my mind.
But I also feel, the whole point of the diary having command is when it is private.
It's meant to be between you and diary. Not you and X/Y.
When a lock twitter has zero followers only then can it be considered a real diary.
The moment that zero becomes 1 or 2 it becomes performance.
Even writing this, I have the thought in the back of my head that somebody might read it.
Because I have the slightest inkling abstraction of this thought, there is some filtering going into my thoughts.
My Grandmother told me today, with some visible emotion, she really wanted her paintings to be seen.
It was almost implied there was no point if they were not seen.
She even expressed (the outlandish) concern that her work might all be thrown away after she passes away.
Many times when I've made an image, a thought, a this or a that, there has been a parallel thought.
This thought is about the unseen thing being seen.
The painting, the words, the action, the expression.
I often felt guilty for having this thought.
It is more occuring when I have social media... Having a twitter means I can, at any time, just share...
But it's not an afterthought. It's apart of the process. It's apart of the creativity.
Is that "good or bad" I don't want to speak like that.
But I think some traps lay here.
If you are overly concerned about the purity of the "final product"...
I saw some artist say they hated seeing "WIP" pics.
I fundamentally disagree with this because all sections of the process are equal.
There is no such thing as a finished or unfinished painting.
A painting that exists is the same as one that does not exist.
Every mark is a world... That's not sci-fi literature.
People are looking? Which people?
It's very strange to post on twitter...
I understand people are seeing it, but actually I have no understanding of people seeing it.
I do see some disconnect here...
What thoughts am I having here?
It doesn't matter.
I just impulse to share online again...
I just always want the "right" way to do it...
But that implies "wrong" way.
It took me some effort to compose this... I didn't quickly slap it up on a TL.
There's also...
This feeling I have, it's more of an instinct, gut vibes, telling me to take the SIM out of my phone.
I haven't done it yet, but I feel it's going to be a good decision.