You can find the text logs here. The video logs will arrive around the same time that Donald Trump ends his run for office. So, you know, you’ve got a while. Tonight went surprisingly poorly. We wiped, I believe, 907 times. Is what it is, gave me time to think about things. What things you might ask? Oh I don’t know, the language spoken in those thoughts is alien to me. A random menagerie of sharp notes and soft tones. I looked into the dark eye of my thoughts and within its iris a billion smaller eyes glowed back. Clusters within clusters.
In each eye an entire universe is born and dies. Their death throws sending streaks of shimmering light across the parent eye of the beast. Little squirming lines that seem to follow along as the eye adjusts. So frustrating, for certain. In between each mighty blink my avatar would die. “Wipe it guys.” I’d hear. I’d phase in and do so. A glancing blow, a flickering flame, or perhaps a leap to death.
Seconds congeal to minutes, and those minutes melt into hours. Finally the entire thing seeps into a slides into a TMNT cake pan. We had contemplated using something more professional, or more adult, but the damage was done. With a flip of the pan we were left with an ambiguous turtle. Is it Leonardo? Is it Michelangelo? Did nobody buy frosting to give this thing identity? Mistakes were made.