In short: this site is one endless exercise in self-importance. It’s slightly censored, compared to thiscitywontletyousleep. Mostly it’s a) a diary, in which I try to deliver an impartial narrative of my days; b) occasional public experiments with my persona, from something mundane as diet, to something deeper, like I don’t know what because I’m not really deep; c) an occasional “advice” article.


The idea behind this blog had noble beginnings. I wanted to be useful, for once. I mean, I’ve been useful before, but it doesn’t last long. Especially if… But it doesn’t matter. The gist is, I fail as a revolutionary. The first ‘about’ page stipulated that in passing. I am quite morally grey. It’s easier for me to indulge in the wretched conveniences of capitalism and rake in dolla dolla bills, then donate to a socialist podcast quietly, than it is for me to actually bother with a commune and education of the masses. The masses will go to whatever makes them feel good anyway.

So the noble beginnings were bound to fail. I am morally grey. There is nothing noble in me. I don’t say it in a dramatic way. I don’t mean to impress. I don’t care to impress. It’s not to say that I can’t be noble. It is to say that it’s not wired within me. And if nobility exists, then it answers to my own list of parameters.

Perhaps even a year ago, I would have attributed parts of my make-up to trauma response etc., but now I know the truth, and the truth has, as the fable goes, set me free.

Regardless. I shall not bore you with personal revelations. You are not my mother, you are not my bestie, you are not my number one fan. I solemnly swear that from now on I will try to confine all the barely medicated nonsense and creative blur between fiction and reality to thiscitywontletyousleep.

So what is this space then? In short, it’s a crossover between a diary, public experiments with my persona, and listicles.

I’ve always kept a public journal of some sort. Long time ago, in the era of livejournals and relative anonymity on the internet, mine was actually quite detailed, and gave away much more than I care to give away now. I didn’t even mind sharing my face, name, and exact location. Obviously, all of these things can easily be found by the right person at the right time and made public even as I type this. So my public journal will not be as revealing these days. But when situation will call for it, it will be awfully honest. If shit is bad, then shit is bad, and I want you to feel as shitty as I do. If shit is good, then shit is good, and you ought to bask in my glory.

A constant feature of my previous internet self-portraits in writing were so-called challenges. Sometimes – most of the time – they weren’t challenging in the slightest. There’s nothing inherently challenging in doing a sheet mask every day for thirty days. So eventually I started calling them short resolves or commitments. After all, commitment in itself is a challenge for me. So doing these exercises gives me a short-time idea of how it would be to stick to something for a long time – and whether I actually want to.

And then listicles is everything else. Maybe it won’t be a listicle at all, but our short attention spans dictate that it will be, more likely. Either things I watched, or advice on particular subject. My constant tries to shorten the ‘currently reading’ and ‘tbr’ lists. Things I wore, and things I ate. Things you ought to eat and wear, according to me. Or whatever gives me the happy chemicals.

Eventually this narrative might crystallise into something different. Then it will be time to update the ‘about’ page once again.