white_noise
grendel ghost voice between the shifting pitch and pixels 060703
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TheJunketeer the silent, ever-persistent hum that slips between the synapses firing blindly. 071116
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raze back when we still had cable and my tv was more than a blank-faced box collecting dust at the foot of my bed, i made the mistake of watching this movie alone in the dark. it wasn't the best supernatural horror film i'd ever seen, but it did the job well enough.

it got me wondering about what i might convince myself i was hearing if i spent enough time listening to tape-recorded static. when i was almost ready to drift into a dream, what was left of those murky thoughts took the t-shirt i still drape over my old acer laptop to keep its glowing shoulders from bathing my room in blue light and turned it into a dead teenage girl.

she stared at me with eyes as vacant as they were wide. her long brown hair split into two thick vines that grew in the wrong direction. she was wearing a purple shirt.

i can still see her face.

i don't think i got much sleep after that.
220812
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ovenbird There is no longer any hope of sleeping without a susserating wave of white noise washing over my mind. I have to carry it with me everywhere, this small machine holding a rumbling voice that shushes my thoughts, stubborn as toddlers fighting to stay awake long past their bedtime. Sometimes they win, resisting the assuasive articulation of static. On those nights I turn the volume of my lectrofan noise machine up louder and louder until it is thunder using all its wild authority to command a trip into dreams. When even that doesn’t work, I lie awake in the dark letting the storm erode my sanity. Underneath I can still hear the torturous drip of my imagination condensing anxiety from the air until all the windows I have into this world are translucent with fog. I drift in the humid void and wait for whatever waxen light decides to call itself morning. 251116
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ancasa.reyn for a long time
forensic files
was my white noise
251117
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