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2012-02-03 4:30 p.m.

i can't see the future but i know it's watching me

It's twelve years since I started here. I love this place, and I love what I produced here, even if it never attracted much outside notice.

But it's come to my attention that I'm no longer interested in keeping this place up. The therapeutic value of whispering my secrets to the dark void, as the internet seemed when I began, has been gradually outweighed by the liability in letting these personal ruminations out into the echo chamber the internet has since become. I have vague plans to use my real name in a different "blog" that would be a part of my public and professional persona, but so far that hasn't materialized. (It's always felt strange to use the word "blog" in reference to this place, since that word didn't exist when I started.)

It seems the typical desire of a blogger is to attract a large contemporary readership. While I can't say I would have minded that, it was never my goal. Actually, my even more unlikely dream for this place is that it would be discovered by some future archaeologist and become a window through which that society viewed ours. I want to be a voice speaking from the dust. Perhaps I will inscribe the entire thing onto golden plates, and bury them in a hillside as my race nears its genocide, leaving the record for some future Joseph.

But most likely it will fade away with all the other ephemera of our time, like the replicant's tears in rain. That's okay, too. I've always had a great appreciation for mono no aware.

no one will know my name until it's on a stone,