Notes From The Night Desk

a nocturnal writing desk for fragments, thoughts, and recurring signals

[thenightdesk]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄɪʀᴄʟɪɴɢ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ.

[thenightdesk]

🌙🖤 today felt like my brain had too many tabs open 🖤🌙

today was still kind of all over the place.

brain switching tabs, starting things, dropping things, coming back, forgetting why I came back. normal chaos. nothing new there.

but underneath all of that, there’s been this other thing sitting in the background.

the Thimblewick world.

and i cannot stop thinking about it.

it’s one of those ideas that doesn’t feel like i “made it up” so much as i finally caught up to it.

like it was already there and i just finally noticed.

the scarecrows. the witches. the crows in the middle of everything. the rules about spirits and what is allowed to come back and what is not supposed to come back but sometimes does anyway.

it’s all just… sitting there. organized in a way that feels weirdly solid for something that started as a mood.

and thimblewick himself is still the part that hits the hardest.

he’s not trying to be important. he just is.

left at the edge of a burned field. raised by whatever stayed behind when everyone else left. talking to things he probably shouldn’t be talking to. and now somehow sitting right in the middle of a system that was already there before he ever existed.

and caleb.

the crow thing with caleb still feels like it cracked something open in my brain in a good way.

no control. no possession. just… shared existence with responsibility split between them.

that part won’t leave me alone.

it’s giving me that specific writer feeling where you’re not trying to force a story anymore.

you’re just following it.

like it’s already walking ahead of you and you’re trying to keep up while also doing dishes and being a functional person in real life.

i didn’t “work on it” today in any structured way.

but i kept thinking about it between everything else.

which honestly feels like the beginning of something.

so yeah.

today was still messy.

but there’s also this new world sitting in my head that feels… real in a way i didn’t expect.

and that’s kind of the main thing 🖤

[thenightdesk]

✨ Volume 1: “the cornfield learns his name 🌽🖤”

[thenightdesk]

🌽🖤 The Midnight Adventures of Thimblewick Crowe 🖤🌽

[thenightdesk]

[thenightdesk]

🖤🔴🔥 𝓢𝓶𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓸𝓪𝓭 𝓑𝓮𝓮𝓻𝓼 🔥🔴🖤

🟥 (crimson nights / ink thoughts / quiet longing) 🟥 🌙🎬 (late movies, alone light, waiting energy) 🎬🌙

🖤 tonight feels like one of those looping nights.

me staying up too late watching movies alone again. me in that soft glow of a screen that makes the room feel less empty but not full either. me wondering if someone is going to ask to join me.

not in a loud way. not in a dramatic way.

just—

“hey. what are you watching?” and then they actually stay.

🔥 i keep thinking about that kind of person.

someone who wants to smoke cigarettes with me and talk about life like it’s not something we have to perform correctly.

just sit. just talk. just be.

no audience. no mask. no editing ourselves down into something easier to digest.

🖤 i’m sapiosexual, which means my brain falls first.

connection for me isn’t slow—it’s immediate or it doesn’t happen at all.

either I feel that spark where someone’s mind clicks into mine like a locked door finally giving up its secrets…

or I feel nothing.

and when it does happen?

it’s intense.

too intense sometimes for people who expected something softer, quieter, more manageable.

🔴 and I’ve been called “too much” before.

too honest. too unfiltered. too real.

like that’s something I’m supposed to fix instead of something I’m supposed to understand.

but I don’t know how to be less myself without disappearing completely.

and I don’t think I want to disappear just to be easier to love.

🌙 tonight is just another one of those nights.

movies. quiet room. soft ache of almost-company.

not sadness.

just awareness.

of how much I still want it.

that simple thing—

someone showing up, sitting down, staying.

not for performance.

for presence.

🔥 i don’t know where that person is.

but I know exactly what it feels like to be waiting for them without even calling it waiting.

just… living in the space where they might show up.

🖤 and maybe that counts for something.

maybe wanting it clearly is its own kind of honesty.

maybe that’s enough for tonight.

🟥🔥🌙 smokes, road beers, and the kind of love that doesn’t ask you to shrink 🌙🔥🟥

[thenightdesk]

[thenightdesk]

🎵 the soundtrack in my head

I spent way too long working on one playlist today.

Not because I couldn't find songs. Because I was chasing a feeling.

I realized there's a huge difference between a love song and a slow dance song. A lot of love songs are loud. They're about grand gestures or heartbreak or someone leaving. That's not what I wanted.

I wanted songs that sound like it's 1:00 in the morning, everyone else has gone home, and there are only two people left in the room.

The funny thing is, I don't even think about the movies those songs came from anymore. They became something else. Every song reminds me of a different version of the same scene. Two people who have spent way too much time pretending they don't feel anything finally running out of excuses.

Maybe that's why I kept adding Lifehouse. Why Staind somehow fit. Why I kept skipping songs that were technically good but didn't have that feeling.

Music has always worked like that for me. I don't organize it by genre. I organize it by emotion. If a song belongs to the same story in my head, it belongs on the playlist.

I think I finally got it where I wanted it.

Now I just need to stop touching it before I convince myself to change everything again.

[thenightdesk]

[thenightdesk]

[thenightdesk]

[thenightdesk]

🌙🖤THE NIGHT DESK OPENS

I don’t really know when this started. It doesn’t feel like a beginning so much as a continuation of something I didn’t realize I was already doing.

It’s 4:00am again. Or something close to it. Time feels approximate here, like it’s been softened at the edges.

I’ve been building this space slowly without calling it anything. I think I finally have to call it something now.

So I’m calling it a diary.

Not because it’s neat or organized, but because I keep returning to it.

There are frogs here too. I don’t know why that part is consistent, but it is. Some things don’t need explaining to stay true.

Mostly I think I just needed a place where thoughts don’t have to be finished to exist. Where they can just land and stay as they are.

I used to think I was trying to document things. Now I think I’m just trying to notice them without interrupting too much.

That might be the same thing. I’m not sure yet.

What I do know is that this feels like sitting down at a desk in the middle of the night and realizing it was mine the whole time.

So I’ll keep coming back here.

Not to finish anything.

Just to write it down while it’s still here.

[thenightdesk]