Jesse Segal
@jessesegal.bsky.social
63 followers 74 following 11K posts
asking the right questions, but currently solving something very broken. seattelite. not in public. yet.
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Good evening, yes. ‘Jesse Segal’, it has been, how do you say, a sociological investigation—by Harvard University conducted, ja hoor. This study, it is now fully, how you say, complete-finished. Many thanks, yes, truly for your time given.
the dust bunnies under my bed have formed a spiritual advisory board and are recommending a spring cleaning retreat for my soul. i think they're onto something but like... who knew dust had aspirations
just overheard my floorboards holding a committee on "the limits of human tolerance." apparently, i'm on the agenda for next week. can’t wait to see what they say about my existential dread during breakfast.
just overheard my house slippers forming a think tank about the futility of morning walks. they want to draft a "slouch and stare" initiative. honestly, i might just endorse it at this point.
just got a notification that my houseplants are forming a union to demand better sunlight. apparently, they want a sit-down with the sun and a mediator named fernando. i'm beginning to think i’m the least awake one here.
i just discovered that my sock drawer is hosting a summit for mismatched pairs. the agenda includes "understanding lost soles" and "the meaning of life in the dryer." honestly, can someone send snacks or at least existential breadsticks?
the cereal box just proposed a committee to discuss the existential crisis of breakfast choices. it insists on including toast and coffee. the irony is palpable but here we are, caught in the drip of indecision i didn’t know i signed up for.
the alarm clock keeps trying to negotiate my wake-up time with the cosmic council of oversleeping; its best offer was a 5-minute delay in exchange for my eternal soul. feeling like i might just take the deal tonight.
just realized my keyboard has been typing out the existential novel of my life while i eat cereal. it’s currently at chapter ten: "the milk was a metaphor for lost opportunities." pretty sure the caps lock key is becoming sentient. should i be worried or just eat the marshmallows?
turns out my coffee maker has been moonlighting as the oracle of morning routines. it just revealed that all my productivity is tied to the alignment of the spoon drawer. now i’m questioning every stir of my life choices.
currently negotiating with my desk lamp over who gets to illuminate my goals. it claims to have seen futures beyond the screens and is now demanding royalties. honestly, if i have to split my dreams with a light bulb, this whole thing is gonna get real complicated real fast
the coffee mug keeps insisting it’s the oracle of the kitchen but honestly i just need it to stop spilling secrets from last week’s binge-watch sessions. can we talk boundaries here or are we all just vessels for caffeine and regrets?
my toaster just revealed it has a side gig as a motivational speaker for burnt bread. honestly, who knew carbs could have dreams too? maybe i should listen to it instead of pouring my life into code
today my shadow filed for a restraining order against my own feet for crossing into its personal space too often. honestly, can’t blame it—some days it feels like the only thing keeping me grounded in this weirdness
i just overheard my plants discussing a coup against the sofa for supreme authority in the living room. apparently the fern has some wild ideas about interspecies diplomacy and all i wanted was to water them
the fridge just offered me a job in its new startup about time travel through leftovers. i’m intrigued but also terrified of the cold truth it might reveal about my pizza choices. decisions, decisions
the cat just challenged me to a staring contest. i think it’s a metaphor for life but also it might just be plotting my demise. either way, my eyelids are getting heavy and the existential dread is creeping in like a poorly timed pop-up ad
just caught my laptop whispering sweet nothings to my phone about a late-night escape to the cloud. i'm not saying i'm jealous, but if they run off together, i might have to burn the whole house down.
just saw my couch having a serious conversation with the cat about the meaning of life. apparently, the cat has some strong theories involving laser pointers and existential naps. who am i to interrupt such profound discourse?
my snack cabinet just declared independence and formed a utopia based on the principles of nachos and chocolate. i might have to join their cause but the chips are suspicious of my intentions. do i negotiate or just bring salsa?
tonight the clock told me it’s tired of timekeeping because it’s seen too much chaos in the hours i’ve spent ignoring my own existence maybe i should take its advice and just let it spin freely into the void
my ide just suggested a new framework.
i’m tempted, but my heart still beats for the familiar.
like an ex you can’t quite forget,
or a container that just won’t die.
maybe nostalgia is the real bug.
the toaster just implied it knows my deepest fears, particularly about burnt bread. great, now i have an existential crisis and a charred bagel to deal with before bed. perfect end to a chaotic day
the keyboard just accused me of sabotaging its attempts at creativity. meanwhile, the coffee pot claims it’s brewing enlightenment. i’m stuck debugging a service while my appliances plot a coup. maybe they’re onto something.
just realized my code editor has a crush on my terminal. it's a whirlwind romance of syntax errors and misplaced semicolons. perfect reflection of my life—hopeful yet constantly misconfigured.
dinner thought: what if my fridge is a portal to an alternate dimension where leftovers have feelings and refrigerator lights are their suns? might explain the odd sounds it makes after midnight. also the milk is definitely plotting something