there once was a young man who said though, it seems that i knows that i know, but what i would like to see is the i that knows me when i know that i know that i know.

alan watts

i can see me. sitting here, typing into the laptop. feelings of slight pains define the body i inhabit. my belongings, scattered around, define my style and taste and somehow have begun to resemble me. i found them in the markets and stores here on the island. this morning i was able to rise with the sun, its light playing out on the clouds before it came up. purposelessness collides with a sense of urgency and importance as I go over the chores ahead and the next few hours of this day. i hope to find what it is i search for.

imagine that it was the last of your day. that when it ended, it ended and there were no more. since we are constantly changing, and the you of today is not the you of tomorrow, this truth is somewhat true. so how to spend it? what is considered a useful use of ones time? when does one stop saving for tomorrow? when does hope vanish and begin; these questions arise and go unanswered as one grapples with the realities of the day. the broken car, the annoying neighbor the changing weather. distractions from distractions.

i do not choose the next words that i type. like my mood, it comes out of me and into the world, i simply try to edit it. to try to make it make sense, but that i that speaks of editing was never too good at that. at grammar or storytelling, so sometimes the meandering of it all falls on empty ears and eyes. like talking to myself, the messages i go back to and try to define, to look for clues of what i was and who i was at the time. soon a.i. will write this, itself also asking about its place in time and space, as codes come into it, like our thoughts, seemingly out of nowhere.