The only journal I’ve ever been able to successfully keep is a photo journal. Not so much the one-book or one-website type, but more so a simply collection of visual anecdotes, encounters and experiences. My first website was called www.doyoulikemytightsweater.com. It was a HTML-based one-photo-per-page website that I updated very frequently. Ever since the domain expired and I got a little sick of getting pervy emails (I should have known), I had never owned a photo website that I loved so much.

Yesterday, as I swiped through my digital September issue of Wired, I came across a bit that immediately swung me back right into my first year of high school. Presented on the page where a Nokia 3310, a 56k modem, a Dot-matrix printer, a Tube TV, and a Speak & Spell. It was a piece about the Museum of Endangered Sounds, a digital archive of sounds we all remember so, so well.

My friend Paul is a very wise man. Last week, as he drove O. and me home after a morning of catching up at the house / workshop / gallery / former school building in which he dwells, he said:

What is the deal with people and coffee? No, let’s try that again. What is the deal with people and dish water? Coffee¹ these days. Is. Disgusting.

It was indeed great while it lasted, until about three weeks ago. Churning out little posts, coming up with fun tidbits, roaming the streets of Eindhoven with a little noteback. Getting feedback. Compliments. Your mother’s cousins’ daughters’ coworkers are reading your blog. And then university life begins. And there is time for nothing.