I’m making an archive for myself that only I can read

I don’t want to make my self legible to people – to things – that aren’t giving the same in return

This is a boundary

Halberstam says that memorialization has a tendency

to tidy up disorderly histories[1]

Like memorializing a coming-of-age through social media


    in blog archives

is the internet, like, forever forever?

This is an invitation

The older I get, the less I care about public vulnerability.

I only care about making my bedroom nicer[2].

Isn’t all art a kind of confession?[3]

Well, I’m confessing that I’m sick of confessing.

Come over or DM me and I’ll show you my pretty bedroom and my photo albums and these little books I made.

I’ll tell you what the pictures are if I can remember.

[1] J Halberstam, The Queer Art Of Failure, Durham, Duke University Press, 2011, p. 28.

[2] G @cartoonfuntime, in Twitter.com, , 2014, <https://twitter.com/cartoonfuntime/status/530088435327836160?lang=en>

[accessed 2 November 2020]

[3] E Gunaydin, "Tell-all | Eda Gunaydin on confession | Sydney Review of Books", in Sydney Review of Books, 2020,

<https://sydneyreviewofbooks.com/essay/tell-all-gunaydin/> [accessed 2 November 2020].



Mika Benesh. If I Can Remember

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