Ever since Twitters been a thing I’ve had a fetish for over-emoting despair tweets in the darkest reaches of the night. Usually I erase my shame in a matter of instants but sometimes I wake in the morning shocked and appalled by the things I’ve lay bare for the digital realm. At one time it was Friendster, then mySpace, and Facebook, not to mention the 337 blogs I’ve started and stopped out of humiliation and shame.

I can’t deny there’s something compelling about the transitory nature of digital declarations. I can erase what I say immediately, but I have no way to know who’s already looked in the meantime. And there’s something I like about that, the comfort of not knowing for sure that I need to be embarrassed, but also the titillation of your most intimate thoughts being heard. And what if someone subscribes to your RSS and there’s no going back. 

Perhaps there’s an art projects somewhere in there…