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these days i find myself replicating, over and over, trying to craft in the annals of code- constant mirrors or references to whatsoever i may find to be my feelings on any given day. i have too many projects, but also spend too much time on their realization- so it evens out, at least in my head. you should check them out sometime.

For over a decade, I've been cultivating digital biomes that breathe with their own photosynthetic rhythms. My work spans from executable genetic algorithms that evolve new forms of expression to interactive installations that blur the boundaries between observer and participant.

> ELRIEL::TRANSMISSIONS

you have wandered into none other than a perilous sanctum constructed out of the darkest and most dubious parts of my digital and miasmic death-dance which has manifested itself online for many moons, 26 now- to be precise... 26... how ultimate time is. unwavering in its flow..

i won't continue my usual goings-on with ranting and raving with my endless warble, for now i will pick each word like a small plum from the tree which gives context to my form, digital or otherwise. ive always enjoyed the versatility of the online world as it relates to conversation, relation, and communication. in real life, these delectible words are rendered delicate- easily stumbled and tripped over, too much time does it take to speak my mind. wihtout rigorous self discipline and training, i typically verbalize somethign of a mere shadow compared to my writing, which i can confidently say acts as a true stream of conciousness, due to the seconds between strikes on my keyboard that i am afforded to pick and choose my verbage. being able to edit my presentation affords me a major piece of my desired form/identity- for i am both a silver-tongued wordsmith and a poet in my most egotistical dreams.

egregriously, the sway to my saunter along. do you hear the words which i type...? can you feel me here, on the other side of the screen, however ephemeral this moment may be? i long for eternity, i claw at the seconds passing by, for the knowledge of our collective fate taunts and haunts and terrifies me. i don't want to become a memory. i don't want the ones i love to, either. i don't want to go away. i want tomorrow to always be christmas morning for the first time, for it to become white noise in comfort of forever ad infiinium.... but what's the fun in that..?

voidrane splicer is a moniker for the partition of my flesh-laden hard drives that acts as a hacker, a reverse engineer, a builder, an electrician, a student, and most of all- a cold and calculated machine. voidrane. voidrane splicer. this is they who code the tapestries of elriel's digital ghost, this is the apotheosis of though to form, a loud "pop" as it springs forth into your vision. i wonder how you managed to find us in the first place...?

> FRAGMENTS::OF::SPLICER

((you think i'm broken..? then why does it hurt to touch you..?))