A trail of unencoded stories and thoughts displayed in a web-based void. Moss in motion. A new beginning was necessary. The final form is unknown, but the beginnings are familiar. Will everything connect? Eventually. Is it serious? No. Can you lick it? Maybe.

SRS-MOSS is a WIP concept. It’s momentarily loose and agenda-less. The door’s been kept open (cat width) to allow curious wafts. It’s tempting to “lock things in“ or give it a name. Breaking that urge feels good, human-like. In this early phase, there’s a slant toward raw and uninterpreted “capturing”—log-like bytes of interest, to build a rhythm and find a flow. I feel like I need to write and think. Is anyone thinking thoughts nowadays?

Sunday Minutes is a steady stream of short Tumblr-esque findings and thoughts gathered weekly. This is the beginning:

A profound goon ponders the falsity of permanence:

You’re either working toward change, climbing the mountain, proving a point, or in the comfort zone; you made it, and everything feels… right. I don’t like the latter. But the thing is, there’s no final point of perfection or satisfaction. No status is ever permanent. Never. It’s not possible. You can fight it, or you can realise that everything now is as it should be, and that’s it. Because what else is there?

Eyeballs: This week, I learned there are people who live with a veil of “visual snow” constantly passing through their visual cortex. This can sometimes include glitch-like effects and distortions. It’s called “hallucinogen persisting perception disorder” (HPPD).

Earholes: I found a strategic sound company. Amazing.

SOMETIMES, I AM SOFT

Soft shapes in a knoll-like arrangement are a vibe—as is Klas Ernflo. Last week, I caught a glimpse of a familiar image that triggered an hour-long search to remember who the artist was. Digital hoarding done good son.

Also, I have a soft spot for a good sock. If you do, this might be your sock source solved. I haven’t tried them yet. Order pending. But you never know, a good pique crew could put you in the right mood.

Lastly, I wanted to shout out to the regular living legends lurking in the depths of the chat realm. Dank discordans™ fighting the good fight. This week, on a whim, after days of trying to crack a problem, I tossed my query into the discord machine and went to bed. The next day, someone replied with a casual suggestion. I flippin’ worked. I was smitten. One point for human-based netizens. For now.

This turned out to be a random AF adventure lacking any sense of cohesion or purpose. “Soft shapes and soft socks” maybe? Big.