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the thing where you open your laptop in the morning, and are discover anew the last tab before you fell asleep. checking instagram to remember the last bar of the night. regretting a message only after the reply comes in.
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discovering yourself through the traces you left externally (much stronger than the weaker internal)
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I guess it's the flipside of the quantified self. The qualitative self. Reading back over your diaries in real time.
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a horror film where you discover your shadow self only via the digital imprint it leaves.
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both realities melt in the sun, fade with time, have dogeared corners and patches worn bare. i'm comfortable in the endless fallibility of my own memory.
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but then, I also post things purely for the context they'll trigger within me when I come across them years from now. (the monopolies are better archivists than me, although that doesn't say much)
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this triggered by seeing a @leighalexander article I missed from last year medium.com/s/i-o/the-underground-world-of-magical-resistance-on-the-internet-6c854e567347