“A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.” It’s 2008 and I’m waiting in an outpatient infusion center for my wife to finish her three-times-a-week chemotherapy. What no one tells you is how long and boring the process actually is and in the hours I spent waiting with her I began writing this site. It was the “Drink Me” bottle and, even if only for an hour or so at a time, the rabbit hole. It was either that or more obsessing about how bad this thing was becoming.
“It travels faster than the speed of sound. The first news you get of it is the blast. Then, if you're still around, you hear the sound of it coming in.” But one day—a day with fat snow flurries that would melt as soon as you touched them—it came in and she didn’t hear it.
Everyone’s blog begins like this, right?
That was eight years ago—either a lifetime or just yesterday. Today the site is still something of my rabbit hole, but it’s now less about trying to forget my past and more about trying to remembering someone else’s. It’s become a place to organize fragments of my interests in art or design or history; or my interests in other things—often interests held since childhood—sometimes loosely filtered through the lens of art, design or history, sometimes not. Along the way I’ve learned more about Canadian quintuplets, murdered cheerleaders, young 19th-century stage actresses, middle-aged academic cartographers and old Victorian taxonomers than I could have ever imagined. It’s become my Koh-i-Noor displayed in my own Crystal Palace.
Everyone’s blog ends up like this, right?
—December 4th, 2016. Administrativa