{"recalls":[{"id":1584669226208,"content":"Running through a series of endless corridors with doors all down them, I heard a man playing guitar. I somehow knew what to sing along and was in synch with him yet didn't know what room he was in. I ran through the halls trying to find what door he was behind. Finally I got to a cracked door that I could tell his music was coming from. I slowly opened the door and saw sunlight in my eyes and woke up.","user":"littlerose","createdAt":"2020-03-20T01:53:46.208Z"},{"id":1584539979722,"content":"Walking through a room filled with vines, the floor felt soft as a carpet. I saw a monkey that talked to me and told me I needed to turn around immediately. I feel weird.","user":"DoYouEven","createdAt":"2020-03-18T13:59:39.722Z"},{"id":1584372879563,"content":"Saw an ex lover again, at their house with all my friends around. Avoided each other all night until we somehow ended up in their room. I sat down on the bed and screamed at them, about how bad they hurt me and how they could never understand that. They just stared and didn't understand. Frustrating again","user":"BottomOfOcean","createdAt":"2020-03-16T15:34:39.563Z"},{"id":1584213897444,"content":"The immense room was calm yet disorienting. I was indoors and outdoors at the same time. Depending on which way I tilted my head in the cool dark air, the hardwood floor was also the forest floor. Lush ferns, moss covered rocks, and young trees would flicker in and out of focus as I turned my head to examine the room. A standing mirror transformed itself into a still lake in the distance. A large canopy bed was a weeping willow; and then it wasn't. Spatial relationships would shift unexpectedly—something on my left would jump to my right or the floor would temporarily flash above my head and I would find myself standing on the ceiling, then canopy, then ceiling, back to floor.\n\nA beam of light—originating from the moon, I had guessed—fell beside me. It was concentrated and narrow, as if squeezing through some hole in the ceiling or small opening in the canopy. I stretched out my hand to touch the light, expecting to break its flow from ceiling to floor, but the circular shape of light on my palm also appeared on the back of my hand. The beam was unchanged as if shining equally from above and below. Squinting at where the light met the floor, I looked for signs of a secondary source. My attention to it caused it to change, and the brilliance of the light increased. The more I concentrated on seeing past its entry point to reveal its source, the brighter it became until it had completely wiped everything from view: the mirror, the ferns, the bed, the floor, my hand.\n\nThe light, once observable as a beam, originated from all possible points. There was nothing else…","user":"dreamer","createdAt":"2020-03-14T19:24:57.444Z"},{"id":1583706493190,"content":"maybe?","user":"yes","createdAt":"2020-03-08T22:28:13.190Z"},{"id":1583644357553,"content":"i set my clocks ahead for daylight savings time (spring edition) several days in advance of the actual time shift, this affords me the opportunity to adapt to the change gradually before the rest of the world abruptly begins to enforce it.","user":"buzz","createdAt":"2020-03-08T05:12:37.553Z"},{"id":1581193494643,"content":"dept. of \"memory or shared hallucination?\":\n\nat the funeral my cousin asked me I remembered \"Rambo\" , the teen who assaulted my neighbor, the judge. \"of course,\" I said. I also remember locking the house door on nights that summer while watching dragnet, because the screen door did not seem sufficient to repel Rambo, if he were to show up on the night wind.\n\nmy dad didn't remember rambo. my cousin said, \"I'm glad I'm not insane, and that at least you remember rambo.\"\n\n(\"Did I see this yesterday? Did I dream this last night? the city is burning, is burning for real\" - elizabeth alexander)","user":"tom","createdAt":"2020-02-08T20:24:54.643Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1584539927387,"content":"Saw my lover in their house and found out it was because they didn't want to have a baby with me.","user":"Chon221","createdAt":"2020-03-18T13:58:47.387Z"},{"id":1584213838230,"content":"I couldn't help but admire the night sky as I stepped carefully down the hillside. Below me was the harbor with its dark mirrored surface which concealed all of its activity and processes. But the ability of the night sky to hide its action and violence within its incalculable scope alone rather than relying on a veil of secrecy struck me as the boldest of statements. A most respectable confidence.\n\nMy humble watercraft wasn't much to look at; a third-hand zodiac that served me more as a hobby project than a vehicle proper. Yet that night, for the first time, we left the harbor and tried our luck on the open water. Across the lake was an event, the specifics of which were never made clear but attendance seemed mandatory. The motor puttered us out to the edge of the port. The lake was frantic with activity. Boats of all sizes and conditions raced toward the event side of the lake. Not wanting to put ourselves in danger, we manoeuvred to a clearing just outside of the main flow of traffic, pointed our bow in the appropriate direction, and gradually increased our speed. The small zodiac skipped smoothly atop the water and began overtaking some of the other vessels. In a show of sportsmanship—not without a tip of the hat to the good fortune of the evening—we increased speed and began passing even more boats. Equally elated and confused, my little boat—which appeared to have no upper limit to its speed—reached the far shore well in advance of the next pack of event-goers.\n\nShutting off the motor and letting the boat drift shoreward, I sat puzzled. The industrial architecture of the port had not been anticipated. Small openings cut into a several storey high concrete wall that met the water at its base were just large enough for human passage, as if one were to simply step off of their boat and proceed down the brutalist tunnels toward whatever was waiting inside. Were I to proceed in such a fashion, the fate of my little zodiac was highly uncertain. Without an anchor to drop or a dock to fasten to, it would be left adrift on the lake. Water currents—or possibly theft?—would prevent me from returning to my home shore and the calming security of its port. The gang of boats inched closer, the first wave of engines competing with my internal monologue. On arrival, the volume of traffic and bustle of the countless event-goers might snuff out any attempt to escape were I to delay my action any longer. With a final squinting glance down one of the dark tunnels—too dark to make sense of—the motor came back to life and we cut a large arc through the lake to get clear of the imminent mob. Looking back on the monolithic fortress, I watched as men and women dove from their boats and clamored up into the tunnels, until the whole of the performance was swallowed by the horizon.\n\nThe return journey was taken slower. The nearer the harbor became, the clearer the image of the sky appeared in the reflection upon the dark mirror. I dipped my hand in…","user":"dreamer","createdAt":"2020-03-14T19:23:58.230Z"},{"id":1583614181340,"content":"as a child, i was often awakened from deep sleep—nearly always devoid of dreams—by a sensation that had become quite familiar to my young self dating back to the time of my earliest memories. the sensation was unmistakably that of my entire body, all at once slamming against my mattress after a fall from some unknown height above my bed, the sound of the loose springs rattling off the walls of my tiny bedroom from the impact, my eyelids testing their extremes as i attempted to get my wits about me. i had been hovering above the surface of the bed prior to the unwelcomed crash, that much was clear, but several questions remained: how high off the bed was my body at the apex, how long had i remained suspended above the bed, and what was the cause of my fall? night after night, as i drifted off i had attempted to take notice of whether i had any awareness of floating up off of my mattress to no avail, but all too often i would start awake to that ​thud​. careful consideration had been put to seeking the advice of an adult on the matter, though i opted against such a measure in order to spare myself some inevitable embarrassment, believing that there were only two possible outcomes and neither were in my favour. either levitation during sleep was as natural and common as sleep itself and my inquiring into the particulars of it would make me seem a fool who is many years late in discovering this routine aspect of human life, or my midnight jolts were such an uncommon occurrence that to raise questions—even if framed in some hypothetical manner—would have called into question my very sanity. i resolved to keep my situation and the questions that surrounded it to myself and set out to design an experiment in hopes of shedding some light on my uncertainties. using what seemed at the time to be a most complex system—quite ingenious to my naive young mind in fact—i aimed to solve two of the three mysteries, those concerning the height and the duration of my levitation; the mystery of the cause of my fall seemed a different matter entirely. the makeshift device was a primitive pseudo-mechanical contraption made up of: lengths of string found in a kitchen cupboard, wire hangers stolen one afternoon from the coat closet, an antique watch that had belonged to my late grandfather, two rolls of scotch tape, three different coloured sticks of blackboard chalk, a silver marble in a small bag of yellowish cloth, and several metal washers of assorted sizes and weights. working in secret with my bedroom door closed, i designed it to be easily slid underneath the bed for concealment during waking hours, and quickly lifted into place once i was sure the adults were convinced i was fast asleep and my work would be undisturbed. the plan was that as my sleeping body began to levitate, it would nudge the marble which was suspended just above me, this would trip a wire which would in turn cause the watch to start a timer. i would be able to check the elapsed time on the watch upon jolting awake to get a sense of how long i had spent in the air. three other strings would be suspended at heights of increasing interval directly above me, each with a piece of coloured chalk tied to the end. trace amounts of chalk left on my white pajamas would give indication to how high i had risen. because i didn’t experience the falling sensation every single night, i had anticipated that it would take some time to come to any formal conclusions. during the first week, i’d anxiously wait alone in the darkness of my room until the house fell sufficiently quiet, then spring into action setting up my system, which stretched from bedpost to bedpost like some clumsy spiderweb weighted down with far too much kill. mechanical failures plagued me in the beginning. a string would snap, a wire hanger would bend, something would come loose. by the second week most of the obvious kinks had been worked out and my tests on the various parts of the system showed everything to be in sufficient working order. during two—possibly three—nights that week i woke to the familiar jolt as i crashed down onto my small single bed. with speed i would rush to switch on the light, but was disheartened to find neither chalk marks upon my pajamas nor a running timer on the watch—it hadn’t worked. one morning i discovered a dusting of chalk across my chest, my little heart began to beat fast with excitement until my joy was dashed upon the realization that a stick of chalk had fallen from its sling onto the bed during the night. the third week was spent making height adjustments to the entire device—perhaps i was not levitating nearly as high as i had estimated based upon the impact of the falls. yet, no matter how much i lowered it, the system failed to produce any results. as time wore on, i began having fewer and fewer experiences of awakening from a fall. what was at one time a common occurrence had become something of a rarity in those weeks. was it natural for the frequency of levitation experiences to decline as one aged or had the presence of the haphazard machine subconsciously prevented my body from entering the airborne state of its sleep cycle. was that state perhaps so secretive, so mysterious, and so aware that it would not permit itself to be studied—to be known? after six or seven weeks of mishaps, disappointments, and inadequate data, the machine was retired and unceremoniously dumped into some dark corner of my bedroom closet. time covered it with discarded clothing, stacks of paper, and never-again-seen toys. whether or not my body had stopped levitating entirely, or simply stopped falling and thrusting itself into a waking state during my levitations remains unknown to me even now. i had either moved on from it, or perfected it, the effect on my life was the same in any case. i haven’t been awakened by the sensation since, though i think of it often. i hope that my own children will be comfortable and secure enough to approach me with questions of their own levitations.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-03-07T20:49:41.340Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1584669444198,"content":"during a particularly snowy winter when i was quite young, the family dog went out into the yard to piss in the snow. when he returned his behavior was abnormal—he seemed agitated and preoccupied with attempting to immediately go back outside. my mother ventured into the yard with the dog, who began digging in a snowdrift near the fence. when mother went to take a look at what the dog was after, she was horrified to find another dog nearly frozen solid under the snow. she picked up the frigid animal and brought it inside. warming it with hot-water bottles and a hair dryer, she was able to revive the canine, which turned out to be an identical copy of our family dog. we kept both dogs. as time passed it became harder to tell which was the original and which was the facsimile.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-03-20T01:57:24.198Z"},{"id":1581738209925,"content":"an animal that never physically changes its form but appears differently to all who see it.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-15T03:43:29.925Z"},{"id":1581700482186,"content":"an aged bird-catcher who has never caught a bird begins to worry that successfully catching one may ruin his life.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-14T17:14:42.186Z"},{"id":1581207968321,"content":"at the natural science museum, my mother gave me a piece of spearmint gum, right next to a dark room full of green gems. all these concepts are forever fused in my mind.","user":"joel","createdAt":"2020-02-09T00:26:08.321Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1584247362623,"content":"changelog\n\nadded a 'latest uploads' feature to the index","user":"webmaster","createdAt":"2020-03-15T04:42:42.623Z"},{"id":1584213743996,"content":"The place was flooded with cats, each with a single eye. I took a special liking to one. He followed me around from room to room as if pulled behind me by a magnetic force. He certainly didn't follow by sight; his single eye was permanently shut and somehow I felt certain it caused him discomfort. We wandered into some sort of animal clinic. A cat doctor examined the creature while mumbling to himself before—with only a few quick movements—he outfitted my feline friend with an artificial eye that looked to be a doll eye with a Wi-Fi connection. I walked the little cyborg out of the surgery and we went our separate ways…","user":"dreamer","createdAt":"2020-03-14T19:22:23.996Z"},{"id":1581397741175,"content":"In 10 years most people will not access the web through a conventional browser. There's a lot of talk about social media becoming more like a video games. I'm not sure if a video game social network will be adopted widely but I do think that the web will be further divided into a text based web (in the browser) and private APIs (apps, social video games, etc). This split has already taken place but in 10 years the divide will be even greater and the browser based web will seem archaic.","user":"10 years","createdAt":"2020-02-11T05:09:01.175Z"},{"id":1581322424889,"content":"changelog\n\nsome updates to the site include: open/close options for files, navigation to dir or file by url, and the create new file form is on its own page @ /new\n\nquestion: what color should be assigned to each folder?","user":"webmaster","createdAt":"2020-02-10T08:13:44.889Z"},{"id":1581233526028,"content":"this once i pasted a flower symbol ❀ into an email. when i looked later, there was a little arrow, in the top right corner pointing upwards and when i clicked it the flower became bigger!","user":"flowerfan","createdAt":"2020-02-09T07:32:06.028Z"},{"id":1581193616284,"content":"my opinions about testing are not of a separate type from my opinions about the studio","user":"tom","createdAt":"2020-02-08T20:26:56.284Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1584278113919,"content":"I was ready for my show in the city. I traveled all the way there from another town. The show itself was in someone's house, only accessed through a pothole. I finally climbed in with my instruments. I found my ex-lover was there. when it was my turn to play, none of my instruments would work correctly, and my songs sounded bad. I could only play a couple. Everyone got sick of waiting for me to play my songs, so they left. Except, my ex-lover was still there. He came up to me after my set was over and cornered me in the back. He told me he really missed me and started to kiss me. I was so surprised, i let him for a minute, then with great force pushed him back off of me. He said some choice words of a mean nature.","user":"cloudsandsky","createdAt":"2020-03-15T13:15:13.919Z"},{"id":1584213927506,"content":"A basketball game was happening. We were in a gymnasium of some kind. Dozens of spectators. I think I was playing but I could have been officiating. It didn't seem to matter. Everyone was focused on the game but the score remained static. It must have been sometime during the second quarter that I first saw them. A group of men rushing across the court; in and out of a doorway that led outside. They disappeared and reappeared numerous times. I was the only one to notice them, which was odd because of their out-of-place clothing—light teal plastic garments from head to toe, quite oversized and with a clear plastic oval over the face to allow vision. Their faces projected their panic.\n\n\"What's going on?\"\n\n\"Keep it down,\" one tealman said, gesturing. \"Don't let the others hear this. We don't want chaos now.\" He proceeded to tell me what was happening. An outbreak. Airborne bacteria. Everyone in the building had been exposed—apparently.\n\nThe tealmen had an apparatus for dealing with this, but it wasn't a perfect solution, and it was a slow process. After some careful planning and controlled language they had everyone lined up single-file outside in front of their idling van. One by one, treatment would be administered. The anxious wait for my turn was long.\n\nAfter being ushered into the van, I was laid down and fitted with a mask that connected to their puzzling apparatus. With the flick of a switch, the apparatus began churning and chugging. Various parts moved and spun—some seemed to be just for show.\n\n\"You may experience some discomfort,\" someone said. I did. The apparatus began sucking thick dark fluid out of my mouth that must have formed inside of my guts. It splattered into the mask and oozed through a tangle of plastic tubing, ending its journey inside a glass tank near the rear of the van; a viscous bath of unknown sludge. None of this happened easily—the fluid was sticky and slow moving, gagging me and the machine at all stages of the performance.\n\nI was coughing so hard as they switched off the apparatus and removed the mask that I could hardly hear them tell me they would need to perform some tests to determine if my body was clear of the bacteria. Before I could respond, blood was being drawn from my arm. I continued coughing. Once they had drained me sufficiently for their needs, I was carried out of the van and told to await results. Sitting on the floor of a large clear plastic tent—a makeshift quarantine with few amenities—surrounded by dozens of others who were all coughing the same tune, I waited…","user":"dreamer","createdAt":"2020-03-14T19:25:27.506Z"},{"id":1581890793251,"content":"i'm searching for a song that breaks my understanding of music, with sounds previously unheard composed into wildly unimaginable arrangements.\n\ni'm searching for a book that i don't know how to read, without beginning or end—it cannot be completed but also doesn't acknowledge completion as a property. one begins and ends reading the book with each session. the reader both has and has not read the book at any given time, but is never in the process of reading it.\n\ni'm searching for a film that ventures into unintelligible territory, metaphorically and physically. narrative and plot give way to something else entirely and there is no boundary between the edge of the projection and the surface onto which it is projected. the audience and environment are just as much a part of the film as the film is a part of them.\n\ni'm searching for a website that is beyond explanation. whose purpose and form call into question the very definitions of purpose and form.\n\ni'm searching for these things not merely as spectacle, nor novelty, nor as some kind of avant-garde feather-in-my-cap. the search for these artifacts is fuelled by a desire to reshape my reality; to test the limits and redraw the map.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-16T22:06:33.251Z"},{"id":1581449380155,"content":"whenever i finish a painting i donate it to value village, then i look for it a couple of weeks later to see how much they're charging for it. a recent self-portrait is $4.00","user":"anonymous","createdAt":"2020-02-11T19:29:40.155Z"},{"id":1581286341480,"content":"i have a friend i love that visits me every couple of years and stays for months at a time. once while she was visiting, despite my effort to convince her not to, she bought, for $120, this fairly large black and white aerial photo of a unknown town in a black frame. when it was time for her to return home, to the other side of the country, she realized she couldn't bring it with her. now it's on my wall and it is my favorite piece of art.","user":"anon","createdAt":"2020-02-09T22:12:21.480Z"},{"id":1581284630023,"content":"i went to the movie theatre with my boss last spring. the film we saw was about a research scientist who had written a controversial book on time-travel and was experimenting with synthesizing a chemical compound that would allow humans to experience time in a non-linear fashion. there was significant buzz over the filming and editing techniques—which gave the illusion of the onscreen events unfolding in real-time over the course of a single day—and the running time which clocked in at just under 9 hours, including one scene in which a central character unexpectedly passes away and remains motionless on the ground until finally being discovered nearly 2 hours later. with some advanced knowledge of that particular scene thanks to a colleague who had recommended the film, we quietly slinked out of the theatre once the poor fellow met his end and walked down the block to a café for some refreshments. we returned to the theatre just in time for the unpleasant discovery.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-09T21:43:50.023Z"},{"id":1581194201700,"content":"once as a child i accidentally executed a very specific series of button presses on my casio sk-1 keyboard and it went into this crazy freakout mode where the sample stretched forever. years later, i found a document laying out how to do it, but i can't find that anymore and it seems lost to time.","user":"joel","createdAt":"2020-02-08T20:36:41.700Z"},{"id":1581193663613,"content":"i remember having a chat with someone whose art i admire deeply and i asked them what their favorite photoshop function was and they said 'blendif' and it took me like a month to figure it out and now like 13 years later thats my favorite function too","user":"fanfare","createdAt":"2020-02-08T20:27:43.613Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1583546972309,"content":"i'm bored of the past, i'd like to see more books with citations from works that don't exist yet","user":"reader","createdAt":"2020-03-07T02:09:32.310Z"},{"id":1582854870705,"content":"reading a story by a contemporary that blows my mind, i seek to research their influences—and the influences of their influences—tracing the lineage until i have gone so far back into the early history of writing that i no longer find their writing—or any writing—to be of importance. rather, i develop a deep appreciation for the history of writing systems, and all modern writing seems useful only inasmuch as it serves as a gateway to this discovery.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-28T01:54:30.705Z"},{"id":1581740189422,"content":"a little-known 13th century writer—who was also a friar—wrote all of his work by composing sentences alphabetically. his biographers insist that he personally encouraged his readers to pick and choose the words in any order that they desired and omit any they thought unnecessary.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-15T04:16:29.422Z"},{"id":1581700264563,"content":"you're at a bizarre or market. you find a curious box on a book sellers table and accidentally steal it. later on, you open it to find that it contains three small wooden puzzles, a piezoelectric speaker, a bit of circuitry, and some instructions that mention the puzzles emit an audio signal upon completion and proper insertion back into the box. when assembled together and interlocked, the puzzles act as a sort of audio book telling the same story three different times from three different viewpoints. it turns out that the text was originally written by dostoevsky and was thought to be lost to time.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-14T17:11:04.563Z"},{"id":1581391404789,"content":"when reading work written in the past tense, my subvocalization enters a slightly higher pitch","user":"reader","createdAt":"2020-02-11T03:23:24.790Z"}]}


{"recalls":[{"id":1584213984162,"content":"Several manuscripts emerge which were alleged to have been penned by Roland Barthes late in his life. In one of these, it appears that he claims to have had a psychic connection with dozens of individuals across Western Europe. Though Barthes denied any wrongdoing, he was able to give detailed accounts of several acts of murder performed by some of these so-called connections…","user":"dreamer","createdAt":"2020-03-14T19:26:24.162Z"},{"id":1581201631001,"content":"though rarely known and presumably suppressed by government at both the provincial and federal level, there was a brief moment in canadian history (no one can seem to agree on exact dates) when saskatchewan was officially known as 'british alberta'. an ebay listing for a map containing the controversial and so-called mythical alternate name for the province went live in august 2016 featuring one slightly blurry photograph of the curious artifact claiming to be real. several bids were placed, including one half-hearted bid from myself, but the listing was abruptly and unceremoniously taken down before a sale was finalized. the seller is yet to resurface.","user":"anonymous","createdAt":"2020-02-08T22:40:31.003Z"},{"id":1581187736947,"content":"some years ago, i moved to vancouver—a famously rainy town—just in time for their rainiest january on record. i was ill-prepared, having no umbrella and a blue \"raincoat\" that never kept me dry. every day i would ride a bicycle or walk to various appointments, always arriving soaking wet and terribly uncomfortable. \n\nafter two weeks of this routine—give or take a few days—i decided to change the balance of power. my plan was as follows: in the mornings i would wake up early, get dressed, prepare breakfast while listening to the radio, enjoy a cup of coffee in front of the kitchen window while watching the raindrops create patterns in the driveway puddles, and then shower fully clothed before going about my day.","user":"ian","createdAt":"2020-02-08T18:48:56.947Z"}]}