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About Jeremy Dennis

I was born in Kettering. I have never owned a pet. Sometimes I dream about the end of the world; sometimes about dinosaurs. One alarming night I dreamed about dinosaurs and the end of the world, and ended up devolved into a small golden monkey as part of a complex plan to combat global warming.

It's not so nice, being a monkey.

But I'm drifting from the point. The point is, it's hard to convey what a person is like. Writing about a person scatters them into parts, and the reassembly of these often misses key points for the observer. Three hundred words won't bring you the sound of their voice, the individual texture of their skin, how their eyes look when they squint into the sunshine, or what their breath sounds like when they wake up in the middle of the night, unsure if the sound they heard was a dream, an intruder, or just the cat, not quite breaking something.

That's why we endlessly add sounds, pictures, words, timelines, videos, twitters, facebooks and all the rest of those necessarily incomplete fragments which drift together to make up the sludge of modern idenity. A mosaiced self,  operated by an absentee presence, spinning pixels, confident that the web will remember; that nothing was fall between the cracks and vanish. 

You can find some of me archived, online, in parts.

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