This view to this earworm.

I feel the need to take ten minutes away from coding and writing to catalogue some precious weekend memories before they seep out of my head. I learnt a lot from Sam, Olive Hooper, and Joel Barish this weekend. It made me want to tell Antony that s/he is beautiful, and Nick that every thing is going to be okay.

“What kind of bird are you?”

Try not to chase after cats in the Danish woods by crawling on all fours only to go back to a massive allergic reaction on your knees while you squirm on a friend’s couch. Because said friend will need to pause Moonrise Kingdom and run to the nearest store at midnight to acquire antihistamines. For said friend believes one’s legs will fall off at the knees overnight. And then one becomes a burrito of sadness.

“I’d like to dedicate this to my grandpa, who showed me these moves.”
“Aww, that is so sweet. Is he here? Where’s your grandpa right now?”
“In the trunk of our car.”

I am a professional hoarder of aspirations, and an incessant archivist of affect. But I think a lot of what I chase in life is fueled by both aspiration and affect. And I’m okay with that. Whatever keeps you going, right?

“Sand is overrated. It’s just tiny, little rocks.”