Oh, God! Today

He stood up, grabbed a small digital recorder, and walked onto his balcony. The city was a chaotic tapestry of sirens, distant laughter, and the smell of rain hitting hot asphalt. He saw an old woman sitting on the bench below, feeding pigeons with rhythmic, practiced movements. He saw a young couple arguing over a map, their faces flushed with the thrill of being lost.

He set the recorder down on the railing and walked out his front door, leaving the blinking cursor behind. He didn't know where he was going, and for the first time in twenty years, he didn't care who was watching. Oh, God!

Arthur sat in his cramped apartment, the blue light of his laptop screen reflecting off his glasses. He was a "life-logger," a man who had spent the last twenty years documenting every mundane second of his existence for a small but dedicated group of online followers. He stood up, grabbed a small digital recorder,

"Oh, God," he whispered, staring at a blinking cursor. For the first time in two decades, he had nothing to say. The prompt on the screen was simple: Develop a story. He saw a young couple arguing over a