Recursive recording

What if I could be contained in my own work? What if I could create a perfect recording of every detail of my life, thoughts, memories, emotions, and relationships, each image containing an image of itself?

At the simplest level:

Anne-Laure was sitting at her desk, writing on her computer. She started typing the words: "Anne-Laure was sitting at her desk, writing on her computer. She started..."

At a more complex level, recursive recording would be akin to the impossible task of Funes the Memorious by Borges. By cataloguing my whole life in the most minute details, I would have to catalogue the action of cataloguing, including how and what I was cataloguing, and so on and so forth.

Moving up higher levels in the recursion, maybe reality itself is recursive?