inchoate.town

leaving blood behind

Sat, 26 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

We are fed a lie in our infancy, a saccharine myth that blood is an unbreakable tether, a sacred cord that mandates endurance regardless of the cost to one’s own peace.

Heavy face

Wed, 23 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

Nothing exhausts me more completely than wearing the mask.

The Architecture of a tally

Tue, 22 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

Congratulations on the streak! the app exclaims.

Scratches in the wall

Fri, 18 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

Indentations in the gypsum. Right where she liked to lay watching, fixed on the movement of the room, never missing a single shift in the light. A semi-permanent vigil.

The same song again

Thu, 17 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

I ignore the signs.

A walk without a point

Wed, 16 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

Purposely parked further away to give me time to think after my shift.

On leaving room for things

Tue, 15 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

There’s a corner of the room I haven’t decided what to do with. For a while this felt like a problem to solve. Lately, I’ve been thinking it might be the best part of the room.

Minutes after me

Sat, 12 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

I wasn’t paying attention, I guess he’d been waiting for me to arrive.

Perhaps this is a beginning

Tue, 08 Sep 2026 00:00:00 +1000

I wanted somewhere to put the thoughts that don’t quite make it into conversations. Not because they’re important. Mostly because they aren’t finished.

A small place, still taking shape.

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

This is an anonymous notebook. Incomplete thoughts, small observations, occasional accounts of a perfectly ordinary life.

I’ve always liked the margins of things. The pencil marks in a book, the first sketch of a house, the note you leave yourself because you don’t yet know what it means. There’s something generous about a thing that hasn’t decided what it is.

Inchoate means only just begun, not fully formed. I’m trying to make a little room for that.