Welcome to the Glitch

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Start Logging

Okay so you’re here. Which means one of three things happened:

You clicked a link somewhere and your brain went “sure, why not”
You typed something like “fatal error” or “existential crisis blog” into a search engine at 2 AM and the algorithm gods decided you needed this
Someone sent you here with no context and now you’re curious (or concerned)

Whatever brought you here—welcome? I guess? I’m not great at welcomes. This feels like that moment when someone rings your doorbell unexpectedly and you’re wearing pajamas at 3 PM and you have to pretend you’re a functional human.¹

What the fuck is this place?

fatalerror.lol is where I dump logs. Stories, mostly. Things that happened to me. Things I witnessed. Things people tell me because apparently when people meet me, they spill their life stories without warning or permission²

Some of these are my experiences. Some are things I saw and can’t unsee. Some are secondhand stories that got lodged in my brain and won’t leave until I write them down. All of them are true, or true enough, or true in the way that stories are true even when the facts get fuzzy.³

I’m posting them here because I don’t know where else to put them. I can’t store it all inside me anymore—my brain is full, my hard drive is corrupted, the cache needs clearing. So here we are. You get to read the overflow. Maybe this is what Hannah Arendt meant by action in the vita activa—the act of bringing something into the world, making it public, giving it existence beyond just yourself.⁴ Or maybe I’m just overthinking what is essentially me dumping my mental hard drive onto the internet because I ran out of space. Either way: the logs need to exist somewhere, and that somewhere is here.

Why logs?

Because “blog” sounds too casual and “essays” sounds too pretentious and “journal” implies I have my shit together enough to journal regularly. These are logs. System logs. Error reports. Diagnostic readouts from a consciousness that’s been running too long without a reboot. Some posts will be long. Some will be short. Some will have footnotes.⁵

Why should you read this?

Listen, I’m not going to hard-sell you on this. You’re an adult (probably). You can make your own choices (debatable). But here’s what you’re signing up for if you stick around:

Stories that feel real because they are. Messy, unresolved, sometimes uncomfortable. Life doesn’t wrap up neatly, so neither do these.
Observations about humans doing weird things. We’re all weird. Some of us are just more self-aware about it.
That feeling when someone tells you something and you go “wait, that happened to you too?” Shared recognition. The relief of knowing you’re not the only one.
No clean endings. Some logs will have resolution. Most won’t. Sometimes the point IS the mess. Sometimes I’m still figuring out what the story means while I’m writing it.
Footnotes. Did I mention the footnotes? I’m mentioning them again. They’re where the tangents live. They’re the overthinking overflow. If you don’t like footnotes, this is not your circus.

Why should you ignore this?

Fair question. Here’s why you might want to leave now:

This isn’t profound. I’m not claiming these logs will change your life or enlighten you or make you a better person. A lot of the time you might read something here and think “can’t believe I wasted 10 minutes on this crap.” That’s valid. Not everything needs to be life-altering. Sometimes a story is just a story.
There’s no product. No course to sell you. No “7 steps to become whatever.” No affiliate links disguised as personal narrative. I’m tired of everything being a marketing tool, of life stories becoming sales funnels where the moral is always “click here to buy.” There’s none of that here. This is just… logs. Things that happened. Things I’m trying to make sense of. That’s it.
I might make you feel seen in ways you didn’t want. Sometimes recognition is uncomfortable. Sometimes you realize you’re also performing identity while trying to figure out who you actually are, and that’s not a fun Tuesday revelation.
No moral lessons. No self-help advice. No “everything happens for a reason” platitudes. Just stories and the attempt to make sense of them. If you need answers, try Reddit. If you want company in the confusion, stick around.
Some of these stories aren’t mine. They’re things people told me, and I’m putting them here because they need to exist somewhere other than just my head. If that makes you uncomfortable—if you need everything to be “authentic personal narrative”—this might not work for you.
You might disagree. You might get annoyed. You might think “this person is full of shit” and close the tab. That’s fine. The logs will remain. The internet is vast. There’s room for both of us to exist in our separate corners, unbothered.

What to expect moving forward

Think of this as the pilot episode. If you’re here for the whole season, expect:

Stories (mine and others’)
Observations about the weird things humans do
Occasional cultural analysis disguised as rants
Thought experiments that spiral into philosophy
Absurdity treated seriously and serious things treated absurdly
No schedule, no consistency, just logs when they happen

This is not a newsletter. There’s no posting schedule. Logs appear when they appear, like mushrooms after rain or existential crises during family dinners—unpredictable but inevitable.

Where else to find me (if you’re into that)

I’m on Bluesky and Instagram because apparently that’s where humans congregate now to yell into the void in 280 characters or colorful squares. I’ll post excerpts, pull quotes, the occasional “new log dropped” announcement—enough to let you know something exists without being annoying about it.⁶

Links are somewhere on this site (probably in the footer, maybe in the header, definitely somewhere I put them and then immediately forgot).

If you want to actually keep up with new posts without relying on the algorithm gods: RSS exists. Yes, still. Yes, in 2026. It’s old-school but it works. Grab the feed and your reader of choice will tell you when something new appears. No newsletters, no “please subscribe,” no emotional manipulation—just a direct line to the logs when they go live.

One last thing

Nothing here requires your approval, your subscription, or your emotional labor. I’m not asking you to do anything except maybe sit with these stories for a bit. If that sounds tolerable—or better yet, interesting—then welcome.

If not, no hard feelings. The back button works. I checked.

The logs are live. Let’s see what glitches.

P.S. If you made it this far, you’re probably the target audience. Sorry about that. If you want more of this nonsense, I’m @… (I haven’t created my socials yet.) on Bluesky and Instagram. Or don’t. RSS also works. Your call.

None of us are functional humans. We’re all just improvisational theater performed by anxious mammals pretending we know what we’re doing. Some of us are just more honest about it. ↩
I don’t know why this happens. I have one of those faces, maybe. Or I give off “safe confessor” energy. Either way, I’ve become an accidental repository for other people’s absurdities, traumas, and observations they can’t tell anyone else. Yey! Lucky me! ↩
Memory is unreliable. Narrative is constructed. I’m doing my best to be honest, but I’m also aware that every story is a performance of a memory of an event that may or may not have happened the way I remember it. We’re all unreliable narrators of our own lives. At least I’m admitting it upfront. ↩
Arendt argued that action is what makes us human—the ability to start something new, to reveal ourselves through speech and deed in the public realm. Writing these logs, making private experiences public, is my version of that. Or it’s just me being unable to shut up. The line between philosophical action and compulsive oversharing is thinner than anyone wants to admit. ↩
The footnotes are not optional. I know they look optional. They’re not. They’re the inner monologue leaking out, the director’s commentary, the stuff that whispers “but wait, there’s more” while the main text pretends to have its shit together. Think of them as the second conversation happening alongside the first one. Ignore them and you’re only getting half the experience. Your loss. ↩
I hope. I’m new at this. Social media promotion feels like trying to sell something at a party where everyone’s already drunk and talking about their own stuff. But here we are. ↩