One Thousand Word Challenge 258: Another Writing About Rain

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Got a nice, steady rain falling at the moment. I like this. It makes me think about things. It makes me think about life. It makes me think about the life that I’ve lived.

Once upon a time I was younger than I am now, and I lived in Glebe, a suburb I liked for the convenience more than anything else. I liked when it rained and I liked the one or two times I was at Blackwattle Bay when it was raining. Those were brief moments.

I remember one time, due to a severe storm, being sent home from work early. We all left, I got home and it was raining on the way, and there was something nice about it, from what I remember. Maybe it was just the ability to go home early. I don’t know. But it was nice. You watch the rain fall around you and it creates this sheet that feels like a quiet, almost. A reduction in business. An emptiness of space. Stillness, perhaps. I don’t know. I just like how it feels.

It’s interesting as to how much rain can scatter and push people away, and make a place feel that sense of quiet, though. Few people want to be in the rain or dealing with it, and I get it. Who really wants to be dealing with the rain half the time, let alone most of the time? I mean, I do, but I’m one person and I don’t count for much of anything at the end of the day, anyway. I like it when it empties a place as it makes for great photography, I think. You capture a place whilst its raining, and say it’s in a city. People aren’t there, or they’re sticking to the more popular areas, so you get photos of places that just seem devoid of active human presence. That, to me, is interesting.

Maybe you go elsewhere in a city and suddenly there are more people walking about, and maybe there’s some space and maybe it’s crowded. That, too, is interesting. You could capture that. I just prefer the quiet.

It’s still raining and I’m liking this right now. But it’s dying down, and I’m here, thinking about the rain and how it falls. I’m thinking about how it transforms a space, and now the sun is coming out and it’s still raining, but this will soon come to an end, and the mood will change once more. Things will become lighter, more optimistic, though there’s something optimistic in the rain, too.

I’m thinking about all the times I’ve been inside and had a good view of somewhere outside, and been given the time to watch the rain. Those were not always pleasant times. You can sometimes lose yourself in the distraction of it all and really sink deep into some heavy moods, and rain can be as liberating as it can be freeing.

I remember once talking to a friend and they were talking about how they liked to go jogging in the rain as it makes it all so much more dramatic. I haven’t done that and I’m preferring to trust their word on the matter, but that’s what they liked to do, and maybe they still like to do it. I don’t know as I haven’t spoken to them in a while, and in a way I miss them. Maybe the only jogging they do these days is in the rain.

I also remember a time when I was working in call centres, and this is a long while ago. I finished an evening shift, and I was still living near Burwood at the time. Caught the train to Burwood station, decided to walk home. This was something I did plenty of, and I can’t remember if it started raining or if it already was, but at some point after exiting the station I walked through the rain home. It was storming and I was soaked by the time I got home. All of me, all of my clothes, absolutely drenched. Don’t know why I did it, but I did. It was night and heavy rain, and that was not a good idea. Didn’t have an umbrella with me as I didn’t know it was going to rain. You live and learn.

I think that the way I think about rain has changed over time, or rather, the way I think about things when I think about the rain has changed over time. I could still stare out a window. Maybe be on a terrace balcony looking over a backyard, seeing a bit of road. Hear some traffic but not much as there’s a big tree partially obscuring the view. Taking it all in, appreciating what it is around me, but feeling bitter and angry and upset about things, too. You know, fun stuff.

I think a lot of things when it comes to rain, and I do like how it is often treated as being representative of things. Like many things, depending on how far you want to stretch meaning, it can mean almost anything, really. Some people probably consider it the cleansing of the earth from God. Who knows.

A lot of my life has been lived around rain, and I think where I live right now is one of the less interesting places to view it from. But that’s okay, because there are plenty of places to view the rain from.

I’ve been finding myself missing Glebe quite a lot recently, and part of me suspects that that might have to do with the rain. I can remember a time in 2015, I think. I walked down Glebe Point Road in the rain, and it was falling hard. I walked through it, and there was something liberating about it, but it was also a bitter time.

The rain has almost stopped, and there’s more sun, too. The reflections remain, however, and they create a small pocket of reality suggested.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:47:26

At this point I started cramming and that wasn’t good. I’d left too much to the afternoon and I should not have done so as it meant I was stretching myself far more than I should have.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 257: Awesome Sandwich

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Already feeling the pinch and that’s never a good sign. Need to start digging into my bag of ideas and see if there is anything I am yet to use. A bit behind, too. I was hoping to be much further ahead than I am now, but I’ve still plenty of writing to do and plenty of day left to do it in. And that’s awesome, at least.

Day is slow and day is productive, I think. There is work to do and it needs doing, and it’s already done, so I don’t know what else I can do from here. Twiddling my thumbs yet again and looking for things to write about and I’m struggling. However, I set out to do a thing and do the thing is what I intend to do.

Writing is a joy and a pain and all those things, and it is nothing. It provides nothing, and it provides everything. It looks to the stars and helps us realise things about ourselves, and then we go from there and explore and explore some more, and once we are done exploring we explore further, and then maybe we find something that might say something about our place in society, and that can be a good thing. Can be a bad thing, too, but I’m hoping a good thing in this instance!

But you know, this is how writing is, or is not. I’m just trying to say whatever at the moment and hoping for the best. If I do that, then surely I will be able to create the most poignant sandwich I’ve ever created. And that would be awesome. That would be great. I could have a sandwich that I could get behind, and who would say no to that?

You know, some people behold their creations and proceed to besmirch them when they are something that the person created at the peak of their ability. They don’t recognise the gradual decline of the quality of what they do, and so are ignorant to their own ability to grow and learn. And all that other junk. If you produced an awesome sandwich and didn’t recognise it for what it is, then who is the real fool? It isn’t me; I’m digging into that thing! And then I’m gonna appreciate it, and I’ll appreciate its existence, and I’ll get on with life after. The sandwich will be gone, but its memory and legend shall live on.

Now, if I were to create an awesome sandwich, then let me tell you, I’d be chuffed. I’d be over the moon. I’d be so over the moon that I’d build a ladder to go up to it so I can tell it that I’m over it, then I’d go over it and come back down. That’s how over the moon I’d be.

Now, would I be telling everyone how awesome the sandwich is? Yes, yes I would. However, I would be sure to tell them that, whilst I created it, I still have a lot to learn as that would be true. Maybe I don’t make a sandwich better than that one. Maybe that’s the peak of my prowess. However, I don’t think I could truly claim that I have reached the end of everything and have no need to continue creating. I would offer the sandwich and I would study it.

What does the sandwich say about me? What does it say about society? Who covets the sandwich? These are important questions to ask, and perhaps there can be no discernible answer. Does the sandwich still exist as a sandwich once broken down to its constituent elements? Well, no, but the idea of the sandwich still does. A sandwich that doesn’t exist is a sandwich yet to be. It’s a sandwich that just might.

And so once it is gone and digested, if it ever gets to that point, it’ll transform into other things and become a functioning element of society, though it already was so this didn’t need saying, really.

But enough about sandwiches! And who asked you, anyway? All I know is that they are there and not here, and I’ve a lot of bread on my time and hands on my constituent sandwich elements. There’s only so much dough one can bake and it isn’t going to be used for clobbering people. It must be used for sandwich-releated research and artistry, and the more it is used, the better the bread will be understood. Therefore, it is my quest to sand on, which I’ll then know how ultimate some of the awe shall be, and it will be an awesome journey, filled with some awe.

So anyway… things other than sandwiches. You know, I’ve never been a big fan of panettone. Sure, it exists. Sure, people eat it. Not my thing, though. Maybe if it were in sandwich form, I’d have a different view of the item. However, it is not and does not, and so therefore I don’t. I only have the current view of it that I have, and perhaps that is the way it should be. Perhaps I could work toward changing this, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to work on changing it as I quite like my life being free of panettone. Maybe some people find this vile and offensive. To them, I say “You are wrong”.

These people who keep trying to tell me that it’s the most amazing thing ever, they need to go take a hike. They need to go sniff some trees. They need to go look at some soil and understand the natural processes of the earth and all that other stuff. Take a deep breath and use their eyes, and then go home and think about the grave transgressions instead of getting all up in my face for a change. It’d be appreciated.

Maybe they should try eating an awesome sandwich sometime. Probably help them realise just how wrong they are.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:33:41

Once I reached the sandwich bit I think I hit a stride. Didn’t lead to good writing, but once more, fun writing.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 256: The Horses and The Explosion

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Suddenly there was an explosion, and from that explosion a bunch of horses were flung about. This was cause for concern, as horses are not ones who usually experience being tossed about like rag dolls from the force of a sudden and violent explosion.

There were some horses fortunate enough to only bear witness to this, and so, from a safe distance, they felt it would be time to speak to the council. It was time… to raise concerns and issues at hand. And this meant… a journey.

The horses began their journey. It was after the explosion had cast light and shadows hard, and the sky a deep and darkened red, spreading over a large rocky and dried plain. Once things had settled, which was not that long, they made their move. They moved away from where they were, whinnied and galloped their way away from the explosion and to the farthest reaches that they could, and the journey was long. It was dangerous. It featured defiance, camaraderie, learning, suffering, triumph, and many long days fighting off despair and other creatures for the smallest of foods, for the tiniest of morsels. And it is safe to say that all the horses that were there came out of it in one piece, but forever changed.

And they finally reached their destination which was on the other side of the explosion which was still exploding, it turned out. Horses were still being thrown here and there, and the ones that made the journey were wondering why their horse pals were still anywhere near the explosion. Were they running into it for some reason? It only raised questions. However, those questions did not matter, for they needed to speak to the horse council and the explosion was pretty loud and annoying. And so they reached the cave which led to the cavern where the council resided, and they went in.

The amount of time they journeyed for in this new, underground space was long and dark, and it seemed time disappeared. Truly they knew not how long they had travelled for in this new and unfamiliar space, but it was about three or four hours. There was rest, of course. And then there was more walking and continuing, and all those other things that they were doing above the ground, but this time it was all under. Under and through, and continuous until they reached the council.

There was some reverence, except it was frustration and annoyance. The horses had done all this travel and they were now outside again and the council was there, and all this travel seemed excessive. But there was no time to ponder that, and they had to express their grievances.

“Oh wise and jaunty horse council, we are tired and disheartened, for we have travelled long, and we know not if we are going to get the answers and resolutions that we seek.”

“Speak, and we will ruminate and answer as we can.”

“There have been issues with the directing toward the lands where the best foods sit, awaiting their consumption via mastication. We travel to the lands but the lands we are directed to are not the correct lands. There has been…. a miscommunication.”

A mix of gasps filled the space. Not from the council, but from other horses who happened to be there.

“Calm, now. There is reason for all actions, and deceit is part of what is needed to be understood in order to gallop the true track. The directions provided are correct in order to help learn this lesson.”

“We understand that the directions are incorrect, but this is causing issues. We are losing the energy that we require in order to keep horsing around.”

“Follow patience, find calm, and you will find the true directions between the directions.”

“Oh thank you, council. Now I must advise of another. There have been times when other horses have appeared, and they were once familiar friends. Perhaps siblings, in a manner of speaking. However, they arrive and then they stomp their forehooves twice. In response, I stomp my forehooves five times, with a pause between the third and fourth stomp. They then stomp their hooves three times, then swish their tails, then stomp a fourth time. I whinny and defecate. They then gallop around in circles, neighing and braying and shaking their heads. I am only to wonder if they really are horses.”

A mix of gasps filled the space.

“The solution is simple. You must guide them to the wooden barge that leads further inland, and guide them unto it, and they will then ride the barge and be inland and learn their true natures, and find calm within their souls.”

“But there is no way for the barge to move inland, there’s no river wide eno-”

“And what is your next query?”

“The explosion keeps making horses airborne, and it does not stop and it is loud and annoying.”

“An explosion? What explosion?”

“The one that is sending horses through the air, and we can hear it now. IF you just look up, you’ll see horses.”

“Those are not horses, but merely clouds moving quite fast.”

“They are horses.”

“Is this something you have evidence of?”

“Yes, just by looking up.”

And the council looked up.

“That is a lot of horses. Okay, we’ll do something about the issue.”

“Thank you, oh wise and venerate council.”

And from there the group left, and made their return home, more annoyed than earlier. They had the answers they sought, but perhaps not the answers they hoped for, but there was little to be done.

Eventually there was a fence and a sign erected around the explosion. It cautioned going past the fence, but of course some horses chose to ignore it. The council, satisfied with their work, returned to doing horse council things, and eventually the explosion exploded itself out of existence. It took a while though, and it was annoying the whole time.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 17:59:05

This was really fun to write. It was silly and it took a bit of time, but I had so much fun writing it.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 255: A Rambling Start

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Lights bright and bright enough to give a good bit of illumination here. Illuminating my surroundings, and that’s all I’ve got for an introduction.

I think I’ve written about the day as my introduction far too may times, but I feel I’ve nowhere else to go. I keep writing and I keep writing to bring everything to its conclusion, and I’ve little left in the tank.

Today will hopefully be a day of writing, and I’m doing it again.

Today will hopefully be a day of writing. I have a thing that I want to do and get out of the way, and maybe that will be today. However, there will be more writing done than what will be seen today as there are a few things I need to prepare for the next few days, too. Make sure I get what I need to get done done and then some. And… yeah.

So here I am, sitting. I’m thinking about what the next few hours will provide. I’m thinking about what I will learn about today. I’m thinking about how things progress and turn and change, and now that there’s less than a month left, how I’m going to get enough written in that time to achieve all the goals I want to achieve. I don’t know how I’ll do it, and to be honest I don’t think I will do it. I don’t think I will get it all done. I’m still going to try, however.

Trying is always worth it unless it is absolutely clear that it is better to walk away, or that your heart definitely, irrefutably lies elsewhere. Or that you’re wandering away anyway, or whatever else would mean that’s it better to not try. But I think it is worth trying, at least most of the time. For me it is worth trying. It is worth attempting. It is worth getting through what needs to be done, and doing it the best one can. I don’t know if I am the best at trying, however, but I still think it is worth it.

I think today is a day of trying, and I think that sitting here, going further into writing about what I usually write about is not worth doing, but it’s a preparation. It’s warming up and I am warming up. There isn’t much time left and I’ve a lot to do, and doing a lot in little is what I do well most of half the time, and only verily so on the day that doesn’t face the day of today. Perhaps… tomorrow. Corner-wise, at least.

And so I’m sitting in this space, biding my time before work starts. I’m waiting and waiting, ad I’m waiting some more. Waiting to take up some time and taking time to take up some time. I’m biding my time, waiting, trying to get through what it is that I’m trying to get through, which is a bunch of words that I apparently lack respect for, and I’m not feeling shit. This is a good thing.

Probably will feel shit later, but right now at least, I don’t. Tomorrow, maybe. In a few hours, probably. Right now, no.

I actually feel alright. I didn’t sleep as well as I could have, but right now I’m doing alright. I’m doing okay. I’m a bit level, a bit balanced, and maybe that has to do with moving away from Friday last week. Gaining some distance and gaining some time, and finding new perspective among everything. Hoping that’s the case, anyway. Might just be finding all the old crap that I find and digging through it again, and then I’ll be hurting myself once more. I’m good at hurting myself. I’m good at digging through old stuff. It all works in terms of perpetuating cycles that aren’t worth holding onto.

Well, not all old stuff, but some of it.

I think I have issues with letting go.

I’m thinking about what lies ahead and how the rest of the morning will go. I’m thinking about what I’ll be learning and what I won’t be learning, and I’m thinking about the hours that come after all of this. The hours where there will be some time where I won’t be doing much of anything as I’ll need to wait and rest before heading off to a gig to do my picture taking for the people I want to be around.

I’m thinking about where to go from here, and how I go to there, and the dots that will connect the path together. What lies ahead. Where lies ahead. How will things change and progress. Will it be another quiet day, or will the day be busy and full-on? I am yet to find out. I hopefully will find out soon. Maybe I won’t until the day is nearly over and that will be that.

I’m writing about boredom again, I think, and this isn’t worth writing. This isn’t something worth digging into, and I think that I need to write about being entertained more often. Sure, it might be just as much a waste of everyone’s time as anything else that I’ve written, but at least it’ll be something new. It won’t be fighting to be as entertaining as staring at a wall with no discernible pattern; a flat, featureless surface that’s one colour that matches the other walls around it, and not that controversial. Plain and dull, and agreeable. Something that won’t disturb the peace or ruffle a few feathers.

That’s what I’m up against and I don’t like that, but I’m sure I will cope… somehow. In some manner. I just need to make the next bit of writing far more entertaining than this bit of writing. Can I do that? I don’t know, but maybe the next one will start with an explosion. And horses. Everyone loves horses. Those who don’t love horses don’t exist.

Alright. The next thing starts with an explosion and horses.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:41:30

Decent time, crap writing.

Written at work.

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Out in the Field

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

When I took this photo, I was thinking of isolation; of a quiet loneliness. Not sure how well that came through, but I feel it’s there.

This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. Brian of Bushboy’s World hosts the next one, and he has chosen the theme of “On the Roof”.

This challenge is open to all, and I recommend joining in. If want to, check out more information about it here, and include the tag “monochrome-madness” when you share your photo. If you’d prefer not to join in, then at the least check out Leanne’s photography, and what other people submit.

I hope you enjoy.

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Final: Untitled 2 (It Comes to Us All)

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I was thinking more about what the sounds were doing than anything else, but I didn’t get much into it. Got a bit stuck on the pattern, but it was interesting to me, so… yeah.

Final’s “Untitled” is from It Comes to Us All. The album’s tracks are untitled,  and this is the second on the album.

As a side note, here’s a review of the album that I wrote a few years ago.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Growing from silence, a melodic distort moving through noise, being sanded back and drawn from whilst it remains unchanging. Something seems to hover on over, then fall back. More distortion, more noise, and finding a melodic rest of sorts.

A little bit of space comes in before everything starts pressing in again. Noise smears and presses, and it’s as though moving through processes. Moving through moments and places and scenes, and growth and routines.

A little bit of space comes in again, and gradually everything starts pressing in once more. Patterns in the melody, in the fragility of it all. Sound pressing against, pressing in, through a blur and continuing on to wherever is next. Continuing on, always fragmenting, always fraying and disintegrating and losing nothing along the way.

Moments of clarity almost swallowed before pushing back, only to come close to being swallowed over and over. And continually pushing back, pushing against, or rather pushing through until finally getting there and fading away into silence at the song’s end.

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Final: ENATKWBY 2

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

Once I wrote the first few words, I was set on one track. I think it paid off as, whilst a few bits are quite rough, I think that this reads well enough. The song is very open to interpretation, and when I think about it, it could also be about an infant, or general young child calling out.

Final’s “ENATKWBY 2” is from EXPECT NOTHING AND THE KINGDOM WILL BE YOURS. As a side note, here’s a review I wrote about the album.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Some hulking, massive thing calls out as though a horn through a deep fog. It calls out, and lowers and rumbles, lonely, searching and isolated. It bellows long, and with melancholy.

It walks and searches, and its calls change shape. They remain the same calls, but they change and transform, and they grow deep and distorted and frayed. Almost a weakening, or a gradual giving up. A gradual hope giving way to despair.

The space, normally silent and still, is cut through only by the calling out and searching. A search across an empty space, once subtly vibrant with life, now stilled. It could be stilled by this thing searching for a connection and searching for something, its character misunderstood. It could be stilled by the area having had the life leave it and gradually becoming quieter.

Lingering and hoping for something to be revealed, and maybe it is. Maybe this thing has found something. Maybe it has been following something this whole time, gradually getting closer to it, but still too far away.

This thing starts moving away from the space. It moves through a deep fog, becoming less visible, though it was already difficult to completely discern. It moves into a rising veil of noise covering the space, and moving everything into quiet static at the song’s end.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1582: Thinking About Thinking

Posted on March 18, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I was going to try and write something about the space and design of this office, but I don’t have anything that I can run with that I feel will work. I want things to work, but I’ve got nothing. So now I’m thinking about how I think about things.

I remember a while ago writing a thing about a tower, and I don’t think it went anywhere. I don’t remember it going anywhere, at least. At this point in time it does not matter, however. But maybe it does. Maybe if I were to read over everything I’ve written, I’d better understand how I think about things and why I think about things. Maybe it’d help me develop a better understanding of everything. I don’t know if I would, but I do wonder. Wondering is what I do a lot of and it seems to be what I’m best at doing. At least sometimes, anyway.

So I’m wondering about how I think about things. I’m thinking about how I think about things. Why did I write those two sentences in the way I wrote them, and in that particular order? How do I go about constructing a sentence that I feel makes sense? How do I go about putting words together in an order that follows conventions that have been set out? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t think about that enough, and perhaps I should think about it more often.

Maybe if I did that, I’d have a better understanding of how I can go about improving my writing. That would be awesome. But maybe I wouldn’t, and maybe I quite like my rough ways of going through things. Maybe I like the mess that I create, and maybe I don’t want to change that. I fear that I’d get too into the editing of things and that’d cause issues, as I’d start restructuring everything and then it’d lead to something actually worth the time spent reading. Why would I want to inflict that onto people? Why would I want to inflict that upon myself?

Maybe I don’t want to inflict anything.

The path to better writing is one paved with grave consequences, and I don’t think I have it in me to think about the way I write things. The way I think about things. The way I put thought into words that can be read. I don’t feel it is a safe and responsible thing to create a situation where people know what I’m on about. I don’t want to create something that could get out of hand and thus lead to some sort of success as people finally have an idea of what I’ve been going on about as I chose to create a situation where my writing made sense and led to something vaguely poignant, thus creating a situation where I have reached into their minds and their hearts in a way that affects them.

Rather keep the mess and overall senselessness.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:34:19

This started serious and became a silly bit of writing over time. It probably doesn’t work, but I don’t care. It was fun to write.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 254: Things Thinging

Posted on March 18, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

You know those times when you do the thing and the thing you do is the thing you do? Yeah. It’s one of those days. A day of things thinging and I’m here embracing it all. Or embracing nothing.

I’m not sure as to what I should be doing, but that’s oaky. I can kill some time. I can kill a lot of time, actually. I should be doing more productive things but I’m not, so here I sit. I sit and I get to sit whilst being tired. It’s a wonderful time.

There’s still a sense of time slipping away. I feel as though I am losing it, and I feel as though I should be moving. As though I should be movie. I feel as though I should be looking beyond the concrete and glass and all the structure that I feel is so relentlessly cold and devouring, and I should be in a grand, open emptiness. As though I should be experiencing something out there, and weeping freely, and feeling something. I feel happy, but I feel as though I’m a spectator to my happiness. I don’t feel as though I am genuinely experiencing it.

I feel that, perhaps, I am too detached from what I desire. Too distant, too far removed. I’m yearning for something familiar and away from the city, but I’m a little bit bound at the moment. I can’t go much of anywhere, so I need to tough it out and hold on. I need to wait. Bide my time. Squirrel away my money.

I feel a great sadness for what is happening in the world, but I feel detached from that sadness. I feel as though I should actually be feeling it, but it’s not part of me. It’s kept away by something I don’t know. Or something I’m not familiar with. I’m peeling away from myself, maybe. I don’t know.

IS this all there is to life? Just all this suffering being witnessed from a distance? All this pain spread out and increasing constantly, and feeling powerless to do much of anything about it? Who decided that all the suffering and misery in the world was a fair trade to what we consider a functioning, modern society? Who said that this was the right way to be about things? I want to yell at them. I want to cry and yell at them, because this is just not right. Nor is it just.

Sometimes I feel like I’m someone who just looks out a window and longs for more. Sometimes I feel as though that’s all I can do. I know I can do more, but there’s so much all the time and it’s paralysing. I’m told that there’s opportunity out there, and I’m glad I get to work where I work. I’m glad I get to have the experiences that I have, but I feel lost and adrift, aimlessly floating through a space that’s continually reshaped, preventing me from getting some sort of necessary traction.

I go there and things have changed, so I try to go back to where I was but I can’t as there’s no open route anymore. I look around and it’s all a thick fog consuming everything, and then when it lifts all that is around me is a decayed, graying husk of a landscape. It’s one pockmarked with cold structure that is heavy and creates a terrible weight for the planet to bear.

People amble about to wherever they are heading and it all feels incredibly aimless. It feels as though all this moving toward locations to sit for a while in order to move out of them to get to another location and being paid money for this does not seem like how life should be lived. I have to wonder why we have collectively decided that this is the best course of action for everyone to take in order to live a life. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel human. We keep doing it.

Maybe things will change sooner rather than later. Maybe our hands will be forced when it comes to change. I can only wonder about what lies ahead and where thigs go. All I can do is sit here and hope for the best, or rather that’s what I feel is all I can do.

The biggest issues are that too many people are willing to give up, and not enough people are willing to show how we can do more without having to try and be monumental about it all. At least, that’s what I think the two biggest issues are. There are probably plenty who would disagree with me, and that’s fine. I don’t mind, to be honest. I’ve other things that I want to worry about.

Ultimately though, I want to feel connected to where I am again. I want to feel some sort of realness to this all, and I know it’s real, but it doesn’t feel real. Out there, beyond the city, beyond the suburbs is what feels real to me. Being among the sound of nature and away from the sound of people. Feeling something, experiencing something. Getting things done and doing things among a cleaner air, and seeing massive, overwhelming spaces that make me feel small and appreciative of the world we live in. That is what I want to be around.

I think that it’s sometimes quite difficult to function in a way that people see as healthy. I think it’s difficult to keep on going through days of smearing activity. Things blending into a big swirl of nothingness that makes no sense and has no real rhyme or reason. Of course these things do make sense, but it all feels so lifeless and soulless to me, and I need to feed my soul. I need to feel a sense of attachment that I cannot readily feel right now.

I don’t want to feel like I’m detached from my feelings.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:15:39

This one felt like it took a long time to write, and I think it’s due to how heavy I got whilst writing it. It’s just a rather sad bit of writing.

Written at work.

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2814:２８１４スカイライン

Posted on March 18, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen for this one, and it was much the same as last in some ways. I did spend a lot of time thinking about what I was hearing, which wasn’t good, but I do think what I wrote represents the song quite well.

2814’s “２８１４スカイライン” is from 2814.

I hope you enjoy.

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A light percussion plays a gentle pattern, and something swirly spirals out from behind it. It spirals and comes forward, and within it more sound reveals itself. The percussion remains steady, unyielding, and it doesn’t need to do much more.

The sounds spiraling continue their flow, and they reveal themselves very slowly. They flow as though a fresh exposure, and within them some tension. Some foreboding comes forward, and from them structures rise and rise further, and keep on looking and reaching further still. Towering, smooth, shimmery, and as though experiencing a memory for something yet to happen.

A future comes forward, a grandness, and a discomfort among this sterility. But it’s all wonderful and cool and sleek, and it speaks of the idea of a better tomorrow, even if only in terms of aesthesis.

Buzzing shoots across the great space here and there, among curls and curvatures. something has taken off and is flying away and toward, and it’s all some sort of imposing structure and design, all woozy, spreading out and spreading forward, and toward and away, and it goes on and on, and it seems reachable through clear plastics and glasses, keeping it all out of reach, but appreciable still.

The sounds seem to heave and rise, and rise a little more. They are heaving and dragging mass with them the best they can; a congealed mass gaining more, then shrinking, diminishing to a single point compressing, minimising and getting smaller and more compressed, and somehow disappearing, then the song ends.

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