It goes like this: Sign in, click on "new post", start writing.

The difference, I think, is the looking backward. This was such a forward-looking device. At the end of each day, my intellectual uprising of sorts, a chance to chide myself and the world. To remember the ones I loved or was trying not to. Forward-looking, buoyed by a delicate arrogance. No good days, no bad days, only my day and the pauses necessary to dream up new distractions.

Just vulnerable enough to keep things interesting.

The dichotomy of Then and Now has found me. Untimely ripped from my womb of ignorant bliss and dashed against the scenery. Cut-out trees with painted hollows falling with flat wooden slaps. Beads of sweat, bright lights and no audience.

There was a time before my brother but I do not remember it. I don't think it was like this.

Then there's this thing. I'm stuck with these things I've written here. Picking through the archives and finding my brother. Once written, a thing is always happening now. That's where I was and where I am trying to return. But the Then is getting farther from the Now. Soon, the day will be replaced. A new February 24th will be painted over the old one. Painted over before I've come back for everything. I am a bad tenant of that last day and all that stuff is still mine just give me a little more time to find a place for it, sheesh. I've been busy with other stuff, is all.

Routine makes my life possible but it fails me now.