rubber_band raze maybe it's foolish to feel anything for a tattered tool you've never put to use. still. i missed it when it was gone. i guess i started believing it would always be here. and there was comfort in that. the snow was what finally brought it somewhere beyond my reach, at least until the sun saw fit to melt everything. the beige rubber band has moved closer to the fence. it's a little beat-up. its face is flecked with dirt. but it hasn't left me yet. if i want to see who i really am, all i have to do is take a walk down the driveway and stare into that scuffed sphere. it just might be the most honest mirror i've met. 230210 ... past peeling the ossified remains off a bundle of carbon copies, the obsolete ink pounded into the outer layer by a typewriter adheres to my hands as the hardened rubber betrays its past elasticity. how many layers of abandoned technology are at once failing and succeeding in presenting preserved remains of past decisions? how many lives are encoded in these imprinted pages, the smudged text telling fragments of stories, broken pieces of lives lived fully and fleeting moments captured by the state in the hammering moments of a clerk recording dispensations granted. what arrogance to take these carefully recorded, collated, and preserved glimpses of passions into the social web in which they flourished, fought, failed. 230210 what's it to you? who go blather from