cassette raze she told him he should always write things down, to keep them in a place he could return to. there were some things he thought he could never forget, even if he wanted to. he thought they were too strong in his mind to ever fade. but his mind was a blank cassette tape, a small black cartridge in which all his thoughts fought with hiss and the slow degradation of fragile material, and when the tape ran out of room it would start recording over itself, leaving only ghosts of old memories beneath the noise of new ones, until they were wiped out too. 140302 ... epitome of incomprehensibility This is true. I've had to rely on my 1999-2002 journal to remember what I sounded like when I was the age of the character I'm writing about. Tangentially, I love tapes. They haven't yet gone the way of records; people practically give them away. 140302 what's it to you? who go blather from