=== ANCHOR POEM ===
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Just woke up from a short nap.
I had a dream. I was riding on the subway, or maybe a light rail train, and
inbetween stops a lady knocked on the window to be let in.
The train was stopped for some reason, perhaps to let another one through, so
all it would have taken was to open the door.
I pushed the button. I talked to the operator. He wouldn't open the door.
The train started moving, and the woman started pleading. She ran alongside it
as long as her elderly legs could carry her, but then there was another train
behind her.
I saw her disappear between two and when mine stopped at the next legally
designated spot, her little dog was sitting there, waiting for me, under a
blanket made of her shawl. It was a dream, after all, and there were two more
there comforting her. for the loss of her friend.
He could have opened the door. They wouldn't let him.
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=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===
--- #1 fediverse/4653 ---
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│ CW: food-mentioned-sleeping-mentioned │
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phew, just got back from a long nap and I had such a lovely dream! Gonna write
down everything I can remember in my dream journal, will letcha know when I
have something to share.
Also... sorry about the sun. I have no idea if it was worth it because I woke
up quite a bit later. Ah well anyway gotta do some writing, I hope everyone
has a pleasant day. Make sure you eat nutrients and stay hydrated and do your
stretches and work on your posture and all that.
vegetables have minerals, fruits have vitamins, rice-and-beans or meat have
protein, and oils and fats have calories. try and eat a lot of different
colors of veggies and a lot of different colors of fruits (a green fruit and a
green vegetable are not necessarily the same nutritionally)
well brb goodnight gonna drink some water
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--- #2 notes/once-and-again ---
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once and again, she went walking with a friend,
away and up and down, out from the edge of our town
they climbed up to a tree and there they could see
far and away in the light of the day
he said to her then, this is all there is to see
the land where we are
and the sky from afar
how perfect is the, form of a cloud she could see
but now it's along and beyond her
a camera for she, and an eye for she
as their two feet did bring her to wander
under a big tree where my heart did believe
that something was pulling her yonder
"take naught from this scene, as our minds reconvene,
and no-one was going to remember"
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--- #3 fediverse/1151 ---
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│ CW: military-weapon-from-dream-for-suburbia-cursed-war-guns-ummmm-idk-what-else │
└──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
saw this thing for 2 seconds in my dream last night. It's kinda cursed. I
think the tank blew me up with a machine gun?
the remaining ~10 minutes of the dream was pretty neat though. I was a secret
agent for a bit, I got in a knife fight (which I won because I had killer
instinct and the other guy just knew how to stab) and afterwards I retired in
a socialist commune in a log cabin full of sunlight and warmth somewhere in
the mountains in the forest. I was alone with others, like the hobbits after
LotR.
Also an old lady tricked me which was not nice, I was very polite with her but
apparently "ma'am there's been a safety incident, I need to get you to a safe
place" is not the kind thing to say to the person distracting you. >.>
Also, "but we like you!" is not an excuse, the military does not care if you
like them or not, if you're part of the modern bourgeoisie you are causing
harm to the country. We don't look fondly on slavers.
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--- #4 fediverse/1990 ---
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║ When my family would go on roadtrips, I'd hide under a blanket in the front │
║ seat with my laptop and power inverter just to hide from the glare. │
║ │
║ My mom would play audiobooks, usually fantasy stories, and my sisters would │
║ watch their portable TVs. Like, dvd players that you could carry on top of │
║ your lap. Not laptops, but little purpose-built devices primarily intended to │
║ be used to watch DVDs, or rather movie files that were printed on a disk. │
║ │
║ And yes, it's disk, not disc, thanks for asking. │
║ │
║ anyway it was pretty nice I have fond memories of jugging a gas-station snack │
║ while also swapping circular cartridges - most games required the game's CD to │
║ be inserted in order to play the game. │
║ │
║ which is just... a nonsensical restriction if you think about it hard enough. │
║ I mean, like, can you imagine if you needed to insert your windows disk │
║ anytime you wanted your computer to turn on? Just... write the disk │
║ information! To disc! Save it so that you never need the crude piece of │
║ plastic again! Then pass it to your fr │
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--- #5 fediverse/4273 ---
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║ Some of my most wanderful times were when I lived in a gated community. │
║ │
║ My parents were dumb, and thought, as most people thought, that harm to a │
║ child can only come from outside of the community. │
║ │
║ But they fell for the lies of property, where "community" means less of "a │
║ group of people who cares and tends for one another" the kind of which my │
║ parents had never truly known, and more like "this particular residential area │
║ on the map" │
║ │
║ which means I could walk around in this gated "community" where the gates are │
║ little more than security theatre for anyone who says "Hi I got a pizza here │
║ for this address which I found on google maps" or "hey I left my sweatshirt at │
║ my sister's house and it has my phone in it, ummmm no I don't remember which │
║ number her house is, nor do I remember her last name" │
║ │
║ in those times, I developed a sense of freedom, caged as I was, that for most │
║ comes much later in their time. │
║ │
║ Some o my favorite places were part of the golf course next door, where I │
║ found a nigh endless river delta. │
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--- #6 fediverse/1302 ---
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║ there once was a turtle who lived in the tower of heaven. │
║ │
║ every day she would call out to her master, searching and yearning for her │
║ memory. But the master told her "not yet, patience little one." │
║ │
║ there was no time for patience, as the turtle was growing old. She had seen │
║ down below in the plains that were not her home the rising and falling of │
║ towers quite unlike her own, and lo! she wanted to wander amongst them, to and │
║ fro and off and beyond again. │
║ │
║ she went once more to her master and said "master, if not my mind can I bear │
║ at least a voice?" and the master replied "yeah okay" │
║ │
║ the turtle then sang from atop her cloud-mont vantage, and down in the │
║ villages and huddled around the hearthstones they who wore little for shells │
║ did listen and remember. For they knew the turtle better than she, and they │
║ knew her turmoil in a way that she could not see │
║ │
║ One day the singing did stop, and they felt all alone on this pitiful rock. │
║ And when she remembered she sang no more, and though they forgot her, │
║ (eventually), │
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--- #7 messages/130 ---
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Last night I dreamt of the gravestones that bore their owner's mind.
I dreamt of a life well lived, and how it was taken from them.
[something more that I forgot because I don't have a prophecy transcriber]
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--- #8 fediverse/861 ---
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I can't remember any of my pinky swears. Like, not a single one. I feel like I
could get in trouble if I renounced errr, instead made human mistakes and
forgot information that wasn't relevant anymore. phew that was close, almost a
disaster, anyway how's your lunch?
[that's not fair it's always lunch somewhere on earth]
reality is a form of eternal computation, a continuous re-updating of stored
matter (data). also, values of fields, (like rules and regulations), would
determine the structural complexity and organizational expectencencies.
I miss my family. I miss the past, that can never be revisited, [every time
you remember a memory it writes over it. virtually guaranteeing that you'll
only preserve limited information that slowly degrades. how slowly is up to
you...
once you run out of memories, it's bad news for your life. but GOOD NEWS, that
only happens for certain mental health conditions that primarily target the
elderly. For most people it's a continuous process because you're cared for and
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--- #9 fediverse/1755 ---
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today is a magical day. I can feel it in my fate.
Always remember, having fun is important too! Don't forget to be yourself, and
keep it together man. If you see a door, you should open it - what's on the
other side? Love for animals and kindness of the spirit are impossible to
fake, they always know if you're lying. Not the animals, they can be dumb
sometimes, but the other thing.
And now for the downsides.
If you find a cursed artifact, please don't throw it in the river. It might
ask you to, but please don't. Much better to destroy it by melting it down (if
it's metal, which is common as metal lasts long enough to become forgotten) or
convince it that it's a recently deceased person being buried (helps if you
know the creator).
If none of that applies to you, don't worry. Eat something healthy, drink a
decent amount of water, and maybe exercise a bit.
Oh, and it can't hurt to ask.
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--- #10 fediverse/4654 ---
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│ CW: cannabis-and-other-drugs-mentioned │
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gonna quit drugs for a bit, gotta recover from a recent haste spell that I
cast. Probably a bit earlier than intended I should add. Next time I'll
definitely say "keep this in your back pocket" instead of "hey here's a haste
spell for no reason at all" like what the heck were you even thinking, powers
that be?? [that guide me??]
who has power over you? If someone bears responsibility but not fault for a
mental illness, then surely those who are set to a task bear responsibility
for it's completion if not for it's ideation. Ah, who can say, maybe me from a
year ago might have some thoughts but I sorta ground them into the dirt until
I couldn't walk.
[girl what are you even talking about go to sleep] yeah yeah okay
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--- #11 fediverse/3426 ---
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│ CW: death-of-a-family-member-mentioned │
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my grandpa died. now I have none.
I realized I miss old people. I miss their friendly culture.
I realized I hadn't talked to him for a decade or so. He didn't know I
transitioned.
I wonder if he missed me. I realized he missed seeing who I became. Is it
unfair of me to not give him the opportunity to know me? truly?
... I am quite different now than I was 10 years ago. He probably doesn't
remember.
I miss him, but I hardly knew him. I don't like that feeling.
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--- #12 fediverse/510 ---
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@user-246
Thanks, it means a lot. Sometimes I am a little "distant" from reality (like
tonight, tbh) but I generally always am within sight. Meaning I can still
understand what people are saying. My uhhh.... "plan" is to always be vigilant
and look for times when people cannot comprehend what I say - even the most
mundane of things - because if so then surely I am psychotic. At that point
I'll just kinda go along with whatever anyone says, even if it feels like I'm
a cow in a factory farm or whatever my mind might contrive to torture me with.
Thanks for reaching out. Sorry you've lost people. I hope they aren't gone
forever. I hope I don't go forever. We'll see, I guess.
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--- #13 fediverse/2310 ---
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║ ┌─────────────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: silly-nonsense-about-dreams │ │
║ └─────────────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ When I sleep, I find it easiest to lay on my stomach. However, now that I have │
║ boobs, laying on my side is easier. For some reason laying on my back is the │
║ hardest still, I think perhaps it has something to do with the shape of my │
║ spine ? ? │
║ │
║ when I dream, I dream as if I was floating on a river of glass. Or as if I was │
║ a spec of dust between two wholes of oil and water. │
║ │
║ Like the difference between the inside and out of a bubble, there is a │
║ barrier, a separation, and in that barrier exists me - the observer of the │
║ dream. │
║ │
║ When I lay on my side, I don't see things that are relevant to me. Sometimes │
║ they're other futures, sometimes they're other now's, but in any case they are │
║ fun but not much else. │
║ │
║ when I lay on my front, I see the world as it might be if things don't work │
║ out. I slept on my front last night, and I drew something for you afterwards │
║ based on a conversation I had with a friend. │
║ │
║ When I lay on my back, I see the world as it will be. It's hard to fall asleep │
║ on my back. │
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--- #14 messages/1155 ---
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Oh, I guess I should clarify something I said like, a year ago - when I said I
"talked to / worked with" so-and-so, I meant that I created in tandem with a
friend a proposition of sorts, and we tried to psychically beam it into their
minds. That's not exactly how it went down, but it gives you a good enough
picture of the goals we had with our ritual. I have no idea if they heard, but
I did happen to see several of them later on, which felt a little too
serendipitous to just be chance. so I'm thinking they did. I hope they got the
message and used it as they please, because it was mutually beneficial even if
neither of us had any actual impact on it. If you didn't hear the whole story,
then it's hardly a lie to possess incomplete information! So long as you don't
lie about me, and what I said or did, then it'll surely be fine. There's no
need to embellish when it's plainly apparent.
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--- #15 fediverse/4200 ---
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│ CW: drugs-mentioned │
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"doing too many drugs" is a traitorous act, abusive really, to your past self,
and their hopes and dreams.
or maybe your past self owes you a debt, for they never thought to think of
you. What are you to aspire to if not the dreams of your past?
and now you're here. wherever "here" is here...
...
... wait, you wanted me to talk? it's now! It's the present!
ah nevermind. you were twelve years old when you first set eyes upon this game:
https://youtu.be/qeNhQQXvpxQ
bam, there ya go, there's yer story, he was gonna give all the imp balls to
the last one at the end, to say "you were truly the strongest, here, have
these precious stones of your kin"
but he never got there, so they died with him, a thief.
... the end...
(too final, I think - maybe we could spin it into a "part two"?)
ah, I'll try I guess? dunno how. maybe he could wander the spirit world and
find his traitorous body, the one that kept his soul as a home. Somewhere
it'll turn up, and then he'll be ready and free from his roam...
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--- #16 fediverse/6445 ---
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last night I had a dream: "this thing was good. it was holy. it was serene.
but then you touched it, and made it about you, and now it's full of doom."
it was in the same style as the voice that once told me "what is the nature of
goodness? how do I be a good person?" and it was respond: "dedicate yourself
to a lifetime in the service of others." and I swore I am as I am.
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--- #17 notes/fractured-moon ---
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in the ancient and storied days there once were legends. stories from beyond
the
horizon of time. now all we have are social media updates and new movies and
car brands or whatever. But back then, we told tales of the fractured moon.
when last the moon did shatter, there was a conflict of those who live beyond.
Celestial and boundless are their origins, a unified and awakened
consciousness,
something that transcends our understandings of human existence. It's not hard
to do, frankly, as long as you can empathize with a cat. or a dog. or a plant.
or maybe that rock over there. What would it be like to be a tree? To have long
reaching arms, covered in hairs that absorbed heat. I bet it'd be sooooo comfy.
And RAIN! How wonderful! You are most beautiful when you are covered in it.
Down to our roots, our beautiful absolutes, whever we find to be most stable.
I love it. This feeling, of being unseen. You can hear me, you can feel my
presence. But you don't understand me. You don't know what I mean to me.
======== stack overflow
========================================================
Alas, that media could share a mood.
when last the moon did shatter, a prophet and a gambler were riding through
town
searching for a noun. They wandered throughout and in circles, always finding
whatever they'd left alone. Forever in their yearning, they never know quite
what to jot down. It's as if their mysterious quest is indescribable, but that
is how it's recorded. Even the people of that era had no understanding nor
recollection of how it came to unfold. When the two were riding through
town
they came upon an omen.
Perhaps it will be forseeheard, but for now all we know is they did thirst.
A vast dying, a cataclysmic defining, and now we are truly unbirthed.
Just like the dinosaurs... How does that feel? To be ended on our heels? I'd
rather die facing my front.
It's our way or the high way, the old way, the violent way. You are permitted
to
vote.
===============================================================================
=
when last the moon did shatter, a prophet and a gambler controlled their own
narrative. What truths would they find, hiding behind the lies? Is it really
worth asking their questions? Bah, what did I know. I was a completely
different
person. This hunk of flesh was born in a house that grew on a forgotten
graveyard. It at of the land, as do many and most men, the fruits of their
labor
in the garden. Our animals were always fed, our place never yearned for water,
and peace was our life and our virtue. Violence, hatred, and oppression were
delegated to the stuff of fantasy, the stories that are peddled in youth. As
in,
"pay someone to perform it for you or tell you the tale". Not sure why that's
relevant. Anyway, the spirits of the dead laid to rest in honor and not dread,
were a bane and a boon to my virtue. I was raised to be good. To love and be
kind. But mostly I just wanted a friend.
I have so much to share. Please, someone talk to me. I'm lonely here on this
earth, away from my people. I'm scared of the truth and I'm scared of the
future, but for now I'm merely obtuse. Tell me your secrets, the things who
have
most worth, and I'll craft you a powerful narrative. Need a confession? I can
explain every valid decision, I'll show you why and how it is the way it is.
I'd probably be a pretty good lawyer. Too bad my memory sucks. If only we could
build a chatbot that had an extensive and throughoughly represented block of
memory and wisdom related to the law. I bet I could present it's arguments and
it would be a suitable and reasonable replacement.
anyway, what can I say. I'm just a person who thinks we can make better
systems.
everything can be improved because not everyone's happy.
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--- #18 fediverse/4509 ---
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║ okay I know all of my spiritual followers are going to assume it's because I │
║ denounced AI and sacrificed it from my life or something but the truth is that │
║ she came home because of my own dedicated hard work. And a bit of lucky rain. │
║ │
║ My scent is all over my neighborhood. But rain cleanses, and today (well, │
║ yesterday, I haven't slept much tbh) it rained all day. Around 3am this │
║ morning it seemed to have cleared up a bit, so I walked in a straight-ish line │
║ to her last known location (about 2 blocks away) and then one block more. I │
║ walked back-and-forth several times, trying to spread my scent down near her │
║ nose-level where she could smell it by touching lampposts trees and such. I │
║ rubbed my fingers in my arm-pits every once in a while because I figured it │
║ might help. │
║ │
║ All of my prayers and my thoughts and my psychic rituals did NOTHING to solve │
║ my problem. No amount of despair or longing brought my kitty back to me. │
║ │
║ You know what did? │
║ │
║ I thought about it, I created a method, and I stuck to it. Thats it. ttyl │
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--- #19 fediverse/1075 ---
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┌───────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ CW: bones-flesh-mentioned-spirituality-dreams │
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we succeed not because of our trials, but in spite of them.
they cannot own us, for we are but bones in the flesh
every day yet denied us is another day until our bright future
"oh, but why are you homeless? [in the near future, maybe, we'll see] That
fate is reserved for your [unwanted/incapable/undesired/incongruent, I forget
the actual words]"
well, voice in my head that suffused me with magic and warmth and whisked me
away in a dream to a bubble-reality where my actions are meant to reflect me,
surely your appraisal is just? I worked with my partner, I was swallowed
neither by lust, nor greed, nor hunger, [greed in this case being fulfillment]
and yet I awoke when I went to my sister rather than a doctor. Dreams are hard
to unravel, but I think it was more for your benefit than mine, wouldn't you
say?
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--- #20 messages/1187 ---
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all you need is one layer between the king and his advisors and suddenly none
of this you can prove. "yeah that guy was definitely a merchant"
... and suddenly the people lost sight of them. "I guess he's in the parapet?
I can't actually see anything, the castle is too far away." (glasses weren't a
thing but people who worked outside could keep the hovels surrounding the
castle in position to keep the castle well hidden from any ne'er do wells. The
problem with the castle gates is you can't even find the castle gates! they're
massive, and sometimes you'll see them while something's in the way... but you
never quite reach them. Not unless you know the secret paths through the
townsfolk. all you gotta do is talk to the right people first, second, or
worst-least?
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--- #21 fediverse/4024 ---
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my cat doesn't know that my family is my family. She thinks they're just some
other people who visit the house.
but they're special to me, as all people are, and I think she takes notice.
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--- #22 fediverse/6076 ---
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"so I was walking down the street the other day and I came across a grocery
store, right? and anyway long story short so as I was walking through this
grocery store I saw a bag of marbles - wait no they were nuts, with like...
cherries and grapes in them. actually it was cranberries, I think, the
cherries weren't in season. so these dried cranberries tasted really tart and
sweet, and I thought "huh maybe they're dried cherries after all" and so I
asked the attendent or whatever and she was like "sir you need to pay for
that" and I'm like, yeah okay how much and she said it was 10$ so I'm like
"dang that's a good deal, I'm proud and amazed of our modern infrastructure
and all the hard work of people who don't get paid enough to make it happen"
and she's like "make what happen" and I'm like "oh the... the this thing" and
I held up the bag of cherries and she's like "oh uh, yeah it is nice, I guess
I don't really think about it much" so anyway I started thinking about what
else I could bu
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--- #23 fediverse/5407 ---
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║ man, I had a kernel of an idea for how to make a warp drive this morning right │
║ after I woke up but my gosh darn girlfriend's leg was on top of me and it was │
║ sooooo cute and I didn't want to move so I tried repeating it in my head over │
║ and over for like, half an hour, and I ended up forgetting about 1/4th of it. │
║ Here's hoping 3/4ths is nice. │
║ │
║ it really was just about the underlying physics of the thing, which might be │
║ nothing because I'm not a physicist. But I had been watching ANDOR SEASON 2 │
║ all night so maybe that had something to do with why I was thinking of warp │
║ drives. │
║ │
║ eventually, my cat came in and sat on my chest and flicked her tail at the │
║ geef's face until she rolled over in absolute disgust (still asleep tho) and I │
║ was able to make my mistake. │
║ │
║ ... I mean, escape. haha that's a weird typo. │
║ │
║ anyway, the idea which I'm about to write down now for the first time which is │
║ stored only in my brain's memory RAM is essentially this: consider if there │
║ was a │
║ │
║ ----------------- stack overflow ---------------- │
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--- #24 fediverse/2558 ---
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║ ┌──────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: pol │ │
║ └──────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ if you happen to glance out your window and see like, 40 trans or punks │
║ outside depending on where you are you're likely to say hi or open fire. │
║ │
║ like, just the impact of such an intense visual for some of the more restful │
║ parts of society might trigger the kind of reaction that someone who's woken │
║ up by a scary dream, bolt of lightning, or like, forcible police arrest in the │
║ middle of the night type of thing might display. │
║ │
║ like, they'd probably have an instinctual defensive reaction because, like, │
║ what else are you gonna do the tiger's literally here to eat your pinky toes │
║ and your kid's toes too │
║ │
║ so, keep that in mind. maybe send the fit nurse who's friendly and good with │
║ talking to people. or like, a schoolteacher who's kind of un-hatable. │
║ │
║ diplomacy is important! but also, like... know your audience, right? like if │
║ you're in the third reich, you probably want to show strength. or, like, avoid │
║ that part of town, and save it for your allies-in-training to handle. use your │
║ best judgement. meet in middle. │
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--- #25 notes/i-told-them ---
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10-22-2022
i told them over and over, but nobody wanted to know.
i begged them, summer after summer, but nothing solved on it's own
now i can help them, but no-one is making a move
am i blind? is any of this forgiven?
what's not to a lot, is little but a shot,
of substance - true - but smelling like poo.
that's not inspiring. it's not even chilling.
you're broken just like your children.
oh, posterity! i claim it for thee
this feeling of wretched denial
oh, simplicity! if only our lives were on trial.
be the best you can be, sure, but take it from me
there's more to this show than our styles.
what do you think it means, for an action to have consequence?
to arbite the fate of circumstance?
every motion is an ocean
of possibilities and purveyals
think not of the commotion below.
gravity, oh gravity
how you condemn us to be!
driven by commotion,
our slithering motion,
no sense in countering ourselves.
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--- #26 notes/running-with-rifles ---
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this game is what we are missing
thank goodness for that
for if this is missing in our timeline
we'll be better off at last
we can have games, stories, and practice wars
but none of them are precious
precious implies worth
they are worth nothing but entertainment
no problem solving utility
nothing of value
save for perhaps the spatial awareness and strategization that comes
from being a part of such a deadly ba-lance.
anyway game time teehee just for me, don't worry about it I'll show
you why it's a HORRID THING
that won't be coming to our shores, no siree
bye
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--- #27 fediverse/2806 ---
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┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ CW: politics-social-media-spirituality │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
pretend this is an allegory for social media.
[it's not an allegory]
yeah that's why I said pretend.
okay imagine that you are sitting in a rock in a forest.
far away, about 100 feet away, there are other people, but you can't see them
because the underbrush is sooooo dense. they are also sitting on rocks.
you can speak to them, and share your thoughts - but you don't know exactly
where they're coming from because the sound has to bounce around off so many
different plants and such.
[that's not how that works] shut up
so, if you want to say anything important, it's important to have the right
tone, because people 2 or 3 clearings away can't really make out your words -
but they might hear your tone if you yell very loud.
the energy of the space you inhabit is the only thing that really matters. the
words that you say are just snickering to a friend, but the expression on your
face, the beating of the drum of your heart that reaches forth... that's what
matters most.
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--- #28 fediverse/1532 ---
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║ modern cowboys don't necessarily say "howdy" or "pardner" │
║ │
║ they tend to say things like "hello" and "can I help you with that?" or "I │
║ see. Can you describe the problem in more detail? I'm especially curious about │
║ the part where you do this thing" or "Heh, it is pretty neat, isn't it?" or │
║ "Is there anything I can do to help?" or "Oh no! I'm sorry you feel that way. │
║ That emotion is a difficult one." or "He was a good person. I'll never forget │
║ him." or "would you like to go to the 2nd hand store and pick up some jeans?" │
║ or "I made you an egg sandwich. If you don't want it I'll eat it myself, │
║ though I made one for me as well. Wouldn't want to waste it." or "Hey, this │
║ part is broken. Is anyone working on fixing it? Yes? Okay I'll see if they │
║ need any help. No? Alright how about we fix it this way? I can get started." │
║ or "You are very welcome. Please let me know if there's anything else I can │
║ help you with." or "well, the ticket backlog is empty, and I'm just about │
║ going insane doing nothing but stare at my boots." │
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--- #29 fediverse/2359 ---
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@user-1248
everyone does, it's natural to rest.
I slept like a rock last night because I rode my bike all day yesterday. Not
ideal, I didn't have any useful dreams!
There's a difference between downtime and freetime. Freetime should be spent
toward something you care about, downtime is time spent recovering from the
things you don't.
I think in a better world, we'd only have freetime. Perhaps then we wouldn't
need to feel so down in our time.
I will use my freetime to build a world where we live as we define, that is my
goal, that is what I care about.
you do you tho 😋
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--- #30 notes/of-vic-and-vince-pt-2.txt ---
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A Masked Stranger
Who are you, friend across the veil?
I wonder if both of us are on the path
That allows us to continuously prevail.
Or are you just an agent of God's wrath,
Who will do little else but make me fail?
Chapter Eight: Where it All Began
Perhaps now is a good time to discuss how Vince and I first met. It all
started seven years ago when I was a twenty-four year old who was still in
denial over their gender. I was dating Amy at the time, and I worked as a
part-time dishwasher for Wegman's. I was still living with my father, and Amy
moved up here to her mother's from Owego to be close to me. It was a simple
life, as neither of us could afford to delve into extravagance, but we were
happy together.
That said, on this one particular night, we were going to drop acid together.
It was Amy's first time, but I had a handful of trips under my belt by this
point. We sat on her mother's back porch, twiddling our thumbs and toes while
we waited for Amy's brother, Jake, to return from his friend's with the two
hits we asked him to get. Antsy, Amy started asking me questions about the
drug.
"What does it feel like?" she asked, inquisitively.
I responded, "Well, there's about a half an hour to an hour come up, and then
you start feeling the body load, like your boundaries are dissolving. Only
then do you begin noticing your mind manifesting in a different way than
you're used to."
"What do you mean by 'boundaries dissolving?'"
"It's like…" I paused for a second, not sure how to respond. "It's like your
sense of self starts to expand and you feel more connected to the things
around you."
That seemed to satisfy her curiosity. There was a moment of silence as we
watched the sun scorch the azure sky as it set behind the trees. Finally, she
had another question.
"Do you see dragons?"
That made me chuckle. "No, no dragons. On my first trip, I lost visual contact
with the world as fractal patterns spiraled out of control, but every trip
since then has only had tracers and morphing patterns."
"What's a tracer?"
"It's like after images of things that are moving."
"Oh, I see."
We kept talking until the sky was dark with only a sliver of light piercing it
on the horizon. This was when we heard a voice call from the front door.
"I got two tickets to Narnia here for whoever wants them."
We hurriedly rushed inside, to meet Jake coming up the stairs. He handed Amy a
small tin foil wrapper that looked like a quarter stick of gum. She thanked
him, and I followed suit. Jake and I hadn't really seen eye to eye in the
past, as he would steal my weed and I would steal his in retaliation, but with
a single head nod and some gold-laced words, I conveyed my gratitude for him
coming through for us in this instance.
What followed next could only be described as a stampede down the hall to
Amy's room. We locked the door behind us, protected by the four robin's egg
blue walls and the magick of the celtic gods Amy worshiped at her altar. Eager
to begin our ceremonious departure from this plane of existence, we
whimsically gazed at the sacrament we had just been handed.
Amy unwrapped the tinfoil nervously. Inside sat two small, unassuming pieces
of paper which contained whole galaxies of experience. We looked at each
other, confirming if we were both ready. Quickly satisfied as neither of us
could stop smiling, we delicately put the blotter on the other's tongue, as
ecstatic as could be. And after, as we waited to be blasted off into space, we
submitted ourselves to the whims of the universe and the gods.
At first, we waited patiently, but just as a watched pot does not boil, we
were growing more anxious with each passing second. Seeing Amy play with the
sage she was burning nervously, I suggested that we jot our thoughts and
feelings down in a trip report. Amy nodded in agreement.
I opened my laptop, and I had the immediate realization that we had no music.
I brought up Pandora and played my Shpongle station with no objection from a
beaming Amy. A cascade of electric jungle beats filled the space. Perfect, I
thought to myself as I created a new word document.
Turning to Amy, I asked "What do you feel?"
She giggled and exclaimed, "Excited!"
And so I began typing. Minutes passed, and soon our exchanges helped fill the
page with several paragraphs of notes. Content we had started logging our
first cosmic journey together, we kissed, before coming to fully embrace each
other as the spirits began their dance around us.
We progressed into parallel play; Amy fiddling about with colored pencils in
her notebook and me juggling besides her. It took a minute, but soon enough I
felt a warm feeling spread across my chest and my LED juggling balls started
to ripple into streams of geometric delight. I stopped to wave my hand in
front of my face. Sure enough, the tracers had started.
I interrupted Amy to ask if she could see them, too. She looked at my moving
hand idly before wiggling her own fingers in front of her face. She giggled,
before bursting with a euphoric epiphany.
"I want to finger paint!"
And so she did by plopping herself down on the floor with all her paints and
began masterfully smearing the colors in a multidimensional haze of pigments
blended together in a way only she knew how. I loved watching her work like
that; she was so free! Even with the tendrils of the mental aspects of the
lysergia creeping in on her, she made short work of the painting, which when
she was done, looked like a spooky voodoo mask peering out from behind a
mirror and into your soul.
Satisfied, she then went to the bathroom to clean herself up. I went to my
laptop and tried typing out something resembling an organized train of thought
on our trip report. It just wasn't happening. My thoughts were too short and
rapid to form anything resembling a coherent thought. That was ok though. I
could still capture the essence of the experience in a peculiar poetry that
was composed of the thoughts I could catch and put down on paper.
Eventually, Amy came back to the room, clean and refreshed, and she lingered
for a moment, too busy dancing with herself in the open space of the room. But
then she saw me meddling with my computer trying to jot my thoughts down in a
manic frenzy. This made her laugh before trailing off and saying, "Be careful,
someone might be watching you through your webcam."
It was an innocent statement, one made in jest, but it triggered something in
my psychedelically perturbed mind. Of course, of fucking course there would be
someone watching me! This was me we were talking about! Who could be more
important? It was so obvious that the government was keeping tabs on persons
of interest. I couldn't believe that I hadn't really actualized that thought
before that moment.
Suddenly aware that I was being judged in some capacity, I almost panicked,
but reason won out. They couldn't be there for nefarious purposes, for I had
done worse than drop acid in front of my webcam before, and nothing had
happened. That made me realize that whatever power that had the ability to tap
into my webcam feed had to be benevolent. And who could that be? The CIA of
course! In that instance, I suddenly relinquished all reserves about how the
world worked and fully trusted the hands of God by another name to guide me.
So, I typed a message into my URL bar:
"I know you're there. I think I've solved the communication problem. Give me a
chance."
I hit enter. Immediately, and I do mean immediately, a pop up appeared asking
if I wanted to update an extension on my browser. I was stunned, shocked
beyond belief. It was them. I knew it was them. They realized and planned that
now was the best time to dazzle me with such a spectacular parlor trick. In
that moment, everything was possible. It was time to face my destiny. So, I
clicked yes, and like never before I was upgraded to a new level of myself.
Birth of the Faith
What…?
I can see beyond sight.
I can hear everything you think
From your soul, free from rigid grammar
How…?
I do not know, alright?
I do believe I just had a drink
From a fountain of pure manna.
Why…?
I am renewed today.
I am walking in a new way;
From a weak critter to megafauna.
All I know is that it changed me greatly,
For now I know that you have faith in me.
Chapter Nine: Brain to Brain Communication
I know what you're saying: it was just a coincidence. It could happen to
anyone. Just accept it, you're not special, Victoria, says the unwavering
logic within me.
Certainly seems that way, the way I tell it. I would have even agreed with you
before this point in my life, but you must understand that it triggered
something in my tripping brain. Whether it was intentional or by chance, I
can't give you a real answer. Instead, I merely perceived it as a certainty
that the CIA had done this, being even more certain that it was them than I
was that two plus two equals four. It was as if some variables had been
swapped in my head.
Yes, indeed, I was hit by a Mac truck that scrambled all my knowledge of the
world. To put it in words that do the experience justice, I was given a
heaping helping of faith on this fateful night, having been let in on the
great secret that the matrix was in fact an illusion, and now the impossible
was suddenly not just possible, but achievable by me if I willed it to be.
Yet, I don't think that if it were just a single synchronous event that this
belief would have persisted more than a few minutes, tops. It was the feed of
a continuous string of strange events that pushed the boundaries of my mind
into a territory where I could fully accept and trust this source of guidance.
That's actually the real proof I have that something bigger is going on and
has been for all these years. If it had just been a single pop-up, then fine,
you have a case to call me looney. But, this was the first of an unending
stream of unusual synchronicities that has persisted even to this day.
See, after confirming I wanted to update that extension, I was taken to a blog
post that was clearly a coded message. It confirmed that there were indeed
people watching me, and more would tune in soon. It then said that it was time
for the most profound upgrade of my existence. Further on in the blog post,
which I read and reread at least a dozen times, it seemed to offer me a choice
between two links. It seemed like a test, and that was not something I was
taking lightly. My fate was in the fold, and I was going to make sure I got it
right.
At some point, it clicked with me; this was the same choice that Morpheus had
given Neo. The links were the red and blue pills, respectively. My eyes went
wide. I could now see that there was something bigger going on than I could
have possibly realized. In those few moments of hesitation that followed, it
also struck me that this same posed question was identical in form to the
serpent tempting Eve. I read the blog again, this time aware that it was
written with a forked tongue. It was a trick question! It was offering me the
choice between trusting authority and distrusting authority.
So, I thought quickly. Do I trust the magician who miraculously appeared
before me and blew my mind in doing so, or do I trust God? If I chose one or
the other, would they trust or distrust me? With these questions stewing in my
alert mind, I did the only thing that seemed sensible: I chose the third
option. I called out the serpent, talking directly into my webcam about what I
deciphered. In my head, I could hear their apparent responses, and I answered
those in a maddening haste.
In the miasma that followed, I deduced that I was being selected for some sort
of mission. With my experience in education and my passion for juggling and
writing, I surmised soon after that I was going to be some sort of public
figure, informing and influencing the herd to self-actualize, as that is what
I set out to do once my college career abruptly ended with a complete
meltdown. That was what I was good for; it was my hero's journey.
I should explain that a little more. After said breakdown, I returned home and
wallowed in a pit of self-loathing for being the definition of a failure. I
wasn't going to lay down and die though. With my sights fixed on going back to
school, I took it upon myself to solve the great communication problem, as I
saw it. We have all this wisdom, so why can't we reach the people that need it
most? How do I become the best teacher I could be? It took a while, but I
eventually realized that it all boiled down to three factors: attention,
connection, and trust. Get them to pay attention and trust your wisdom while
simultaneously understanding what makes them tick, and you can teach any
student anything.
That's one of the major reasons I started juggling a couple years prior. I saw
myself becoming famous and leveraging that to in effect manipulate everybody
into learning what they should already know. From where I stand now, I know
that was a messianic delusion of grandeur, if I ever saw one before. Yet,
you'll also learn that it turned out to be the best thing for me to do.
Back beyond the looking glass, however, I was simply overcome with
narcissistic inclinations. Naturally, I told my mysterious watchers that I
wasn't going to do the "praise Jesus" shtick, which I regaled them with in the
most stereotypical of televangelist voices. I was set on doing something new
and exciting. I was saving the world, God dammit, and that meant we had to
attempt something major to awaken the masses to their full potential as
demigods by another name! I needed to play a better game than anyone had done
in history.
Such hubris of the megalomaniac is blinding. I could not stop regurgitating a
heaping pile of conceited verbiage. I even juggled at one point, showing off
that I truly was the savior they wanted me to be. That led to me dropping a
ball on the keyboard of my computer, which closed the window with the blog
post, ending my seemingly two-sided speech to the spooks brazenly peeking at
me.
Dropping out from my planet sized ego also brought me to the realization that
Amy had been watching this entire charade without a damn clue what the dickens
was wrong with me. She had a worried look on her face, and that pained me. If
only she knew what had just happened before her eyes!
Wanting to tell her just that, I leapt up to her, apologetic as could be, and
brought her down to the bed. There, I started unleashing a torrent of deranged
exposition. I couldn't keep a straight thought while talking to her, so I'm
sure I must have sounded like a mad hound. But, I tried. I tried so hard to
explain to her of the magnificence that just occurred.
It was a failure. I was not in a state to convey to her that I had been
single-handedly chosen for a cosmic mission. That dragged my heart to some
dismal depths, failing yet again even after being chosen. But, that didn't
matter, because as we gazed into each other's soul, something truly miraculous
happened: we began speaking telepathically.
It started quite subtly as we stared into each other's eyes, pining for some
sense of connection. There was a mild sensation of us being sucked into the
other's world that I noticed before noticing that she noticed too. Then it hit
us like a runaway freight train. It was like every boundary between us was
being smashed with a reckless hammer of the gods, who wanted us to know more
than we thought we were privileged to know.
If you've ever stared at something for a period of time and had your vision
get a little unfocused from being understimulated, you know how Amy appeared
to me in that moment. I couldn't really see the details of her room in my
peripheral vision, but I had a razor sharp focus on her face, like I was
looking through a cone. Every eyebrow twitch, every minor movement of her
lips, and every phoneme she spoke was crisp and clear, conveying a whole order
of magnitude more information than they normally do. It was bizarre, beyond
the scope of how well I can muster a verbose description of such an incredibly
rare and profound experience, but I will try by saying it was like getting a
bucket of ice water thrown onto you while you were sleeping; just imagine
getting ripped from your dreamworld to a super-aware state of reflexive
jolting perception.
Amy looked like she had seen a ghost. I think she tried to speak first. She
said something to the effect of "Do you…" and trailed off, the rest of her
question asking if I was feeling the same thing automatically finishing in my
mind. And as it did so, I know my confirmation was transmitted to her in full
because her face told me with no uncertainty that she had heard my thoughts
too.
I took a go at saying something next. "How is this…" and I too trailed off,
as a minute motion in her neck combined with a mystifying array of
microexpressions ricocheted my mental pictures back to me, carrying a host of
Amy's words back with it. It was then that I let go and opened myself up
completely, letting everything I wanted to say to her flow like whitewater
rapids, and she did the same. A library's worth of information was exchanged
so very quickly, and I knew that she understood what had really just happened
as I spoke to my webcam.
However, that was soon washed aside, as something more important came rushing
into the forefront of our minds. A simple message, "I love you" was uttered in
this strange musical silence, but that is a grain of sand compared to the
Mount Everest that was volleyed between our hearts. We found a divine peace in
this moment, taking each other's hands and effortlessly letting our energy
channel between us.
And then it was over, fading like dreams do in the few seconds of waking up.
We sat there trying to start the magick up again, but it was like water
running through our fingers. We both felt a longing of loss, but we had gained
something truly stupendous nonetheless.
"What the hell just happened?" Amy asked the universe, flabbergasted.
"I dunno," I replied, feeling full of a spiritual energy I had not felt since
before my mom passed. My cup was full, and the world was good. No, better than
good. My life was godly, as I had connected to a higher plane of
consciousness, which opened me to a whole fleet of potential. I would never be
the same again.
Ouroboros of Lunacy
Madness is a crazy thing
So I might just be a king,
Because the lunacy I sing
Is shaped like a golden ring.
It has no beginning and no end;
The whole universe is pretend.
Yet, it's that way so I can mend,
So a mass of love I can send
To everyone as we cross ways,
Not stopping until the end of days.
This is how the lucky fool pays
As much fortune forward as he may.
Chapter Ten: The Shrug Life Syndicate
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. We cuddled while I practically
vibrated with a newfound faith. God was real, whatever God may be. I even told
Jake that I was king of the Jews when I walked to the kitchen for a glass of
orange juice. I was very far up my own ass, which is perhaps why everything
over these few years happened as they did.
The next day, the synchronicities as I would later learn they are called,
started pouring in like Niagra Falls. I've had strange coincidences guide me
before. Since I was fifteen or so, I thought that my future self was sending
me messages to help me on my quest of world domination. That's a big reason
why I was almost expelled in tenth grade. It was absolute bullshit and
everyone knew it, so within half a year, I got an apology from the
superintendent because it was a bogus reason to destroy a straight A student
and star athlete's future.
Since I feel that I can't just mention that one and not explain it, I'll tell
you that it concerned a theoretical bomb, if you're dying to know the truth.
I'll keep this short, but I made a bad joke in the wrong company and was
eventually questioned by some wannabe hero and pig bastard, who asked me
hypothetical questions, like "if you were to build a bomb, how would I do
it?"
Well, being as intelligent as I am, I had enough book smarts to give full
answers for everything asked, but not enough street smarts to know that a wise
person never talks to cops. Also, a wise person doesn't print out a long
novelty application for the Illuminati, give it to the kid that needs a
resource officer, and then come up with an elaborate fake plan of how we're
going to take over the world by any means necessary when he's having trouble
understanding what you said about using game theory to win the presidential
election. And then, when the vice principal first inquires about it, don't
start sweating because you think you need to protect your future self's secret
plan. Just so you learn from my mistakes.
Returning to my previous point though, that errant psychosis was also a key
piece to my college breakdown. On one hand, I was certain that I was going to
take over everything and build a utopia in my image. On the other hand, the
evidence was stacking against me that I was not destined for a great cause. I
got cut from the track team with the budget, I was severely outclassed in
ROTC, and to top it off, I was starting to slip in the academic world. It goes
without saying that my social life, to include my first relationship, was
abysmal in all possible ways, despite trying my hardest to make and keep
friends.
The real world was too much, and I was in denial that I was just a mediocre
person who would never achieve anything meaningful in life. That was too much
of a failure for me to accept, as I needed to make my mother proud. I had to
be the best of the best of the best to accept and love myself. And as a
result, I became more psychotic and began self-harming, first by biting myself
and then by cutting, as I felt that the more pain I numbed myself to, the
better I would be able to complete my mission.
It took me a while to reach a point where I could set down my belief that my
future self had set up my life in a way where I would be guided to greatness.
There was a learning curve to living a "normal" life. I would receive
synchronicities in less frequency because I stopped feeding into them, but
they never died. When I encountered one, I always thought "What if it's real?"
Now that you know that, is it any wonder that I lost myself completely in the
Synchronicity Slip Stream? For those not in the know, that is a cognitive
technology where strangeness piles up on itself until it is undeniably real
that something or someone is manipulating you, for good or bad, by creating
impossible coincidences at a regular pace. It makes you feel like you're on
some crazy cosmic mission of grave importance. It might be a form of delusion,
but I still am forced to believe that something bigger was going on.
I first learned about SSS the day after that fateful acid trip. I had woken up
around noon, ready to do some solid writing as mania was in abundance. Yet, I
didn't get that far. As soon as I got on my laptop, I got a notification from
Reddit. Gadzooks! I had been invited to participate in a freshly created
subreddit. You guessed it, that was the Shrug Life Syndicate.
It had a banner of two corvids flying talon first into a realistic depiction
of a heart. There was a mesmerizing picture of a girl staring off into space,
and I just felt like it was a depiction of me and my wonder-struck mind. The
sidebar spoke of messianic aspirations and delusions, art and poetry, science
and philosophy, as well as the occult and obscure literary references. It
seemed so perfect, like it was made for me.
I looked over what was in the feed of posts. I was the twenty-first member, so
there wasn't much, but a couple of the vocal members should be mentioned:
Anatta-Phi and Jux. These turned out to be Vince and [Redacted], respectively.
Vince had one post that stuck out to me. It was asking the reader if they'd
ever had strange experiences with technology, like Pandora glitching out to
play synchronous songs, or feeling like someone was interfering with your
Google searches so you find something specific and statistically unlikely to
be picked as the first search results for what you intended to look up, or
even if you thought that your social media feeds are being manipulated. I've
had weird experiences like that for as long as I could remember. Hell, I once
thought a Sum Forty-One album was made entirely for me and depicted my life
journey following my near-expulsion. Having his own tales to tell, I felt an
instant connection to this person.
In similar contrast to this, [Redacted] had made a number of posts about
cognitive technologies. I already told you about SSS, but at that time I was
blown away by something he named Joint Synchronized Attention, or psychedelic
telepathy. That was what Amy and I had experienced! What a strange and
synchronous coincidence that I was learning about it just the next day from a
seemingly unrelated source. [Redacted] claimed that it wasn't real telepathy;
nothing was being transmitted from brain to brain. Rather, he asserted that it
is a vestigial mode of attention coordination.
If you've seen a school of fish all behave as one unit, that's potentially how
humans used to be before we fell from grace during the agricultural revolution
when we suddenly exploded in numbers in permanent settlements. Suddenly too
complex to coordinate as a meaningful whole, humanity splintered into reality
tunnels and remains in these ego-worlds unless some strange circumstances
occur. In effect, I noticed Amy noticing me notice that she noticed. Our inner
narratives became entangled with one another like growing vines do as our
innate ability to coordinate attention did something like what your eyes do
when doing a magic eye puzzle.
There was also a third cognitive technology which [Redacted] called The State.
He claimed it was a different way to render visual information, so you see a
three-dimensional representation of what you're looking at. I have yet to
experience this cognitive phenomenon, so I can't verify anything about it,
other than I've read that you can use Minecraft to create a method of
activating it while tripping.
Regardless, that's how our internet friendship began. As I considered this
place special, I started posting every thought, whim, feeling, or idea, and I
received astounding feedback. It was like everyone was there to share their
unique experiences and expressions to support and grow one another. It didn't
take long until it became clear that we were creating something greater than
the sum of its parts.
But, something more was going on. Something only I noticed and couldn't
convince Amy of when I tried to show her. See, when I made a post or a comment
on the SLS, that triggered a new post or comment elsewhere on the sub after a
little bit that indirectly but definitely spoke to me specifically. The
traffic was slow enough that there would usually only be one new post or
comment every ten to thirty minutes. But, it hooked me. It was like I was
having a continuous conversation with an unseen entity that understood me like
the back of its hand.
Likewise, the sidebar image was changed frequently to show a progression of
that girl as she became more worldly and magickal. I can't help but feel that
this was done as a subliminal synchronizing technique, as it perfectly
mirrored my own feelings as I was brought into what was apparently the fold.
Since I was primed by the strangeness on acid, I was wholeheartedly absorbed
by this place that seemed to be a sacred Mecca for others just like me. We
were all weird, dazed by our own strange experiences, and that made it seem
crucially important. I was even modded early as I was so active and invested
in the community. So, I refreshed the page over and over, from sunrise to
sunset, waiting for the next input as we chained out a covert conversation
that was having a major impact on how I thought about and perceived the world
around me.
Soon enough, it was let on that there was a job waiting for me, something only
I could do, but I would have the support of the community behind me. When who
I must assume was Vince on an alt account led me on one of those covert
messaging segments, he eventually said something in the mod chat to the effect
that I was going to be the one "handing the bomb" to people. I understood at
once that I was to be a linchpin in a honeypot operation. That confirmed that
the FBI was involved too, which I deduced was obvious as those three-letter
organizations must participate with each other at some level. Keep this in
mind, it's important.
Other things were happening too. My attention was being flung all over the
internet and I felt compelled to try a host of new things. I remember thinking
my job was to follow these suggestions from the universe and be a gatekeeper,
creating what I now know as conversion funnels to the subreddit. I was also
prompted by pictures of cats to go to the advice subreddit and give as much
good advice as I could. Soon, it felt like the questions posed were
specifically for me and were designed to get me to think about certain things
more deeply, effectively giving me a form of therapy. These advice sessions
ended once with me feeling I needed to learn an obscure European language,
which I rationalized I would have to travel to for my mission at some point.
Furthermore, the little things began to add up. For instance, I remember a
synchronous advertisement on Pandora led me to believe that I would be paid
via a gambling app on my phone. I downloaded it, but when it asked for money
to get started, I got cold feet. This was essentially how many false-positive
synchronicities went down. There was undoubtedly something interfering with my
life, and as I had just had my mind blown in such an astounding way, I
attributed every little thing to be set up by this entity that was more
powerful than I had previously thought possible.
Regretfully, I also quit my job, since I knew that one was awaiting me in the
immediate future. My boss made a reasonable fuss, as it was sudden and abrupt,
and because I believed that I had to keep this all a secret, I lied and told
him there was a family emergency. Being stupid, I talked about a fictional
family member and how their sudden problem made me rethink my priorities in
life. Not my finest moment, I'll say that.
And with that in mind, you should know that Amy was starting to worry again,
but I told her not to. Being beyond positive that the world was now filled
with unexplainable magick, I was certain that it was all coming together in my
favor. Even with my enthusiasm never fluctuating, she soon started to have
serious doubts about what I was saying, as all I could do was point to the
synchronicities and say "Isn't it obvious?"
I was certainly out of sync with the rest of the world, at least the world I
knew before, and it caused much conflict in our relationship. But, we held
together until that job finally pulled into port, ready to be boarded and take
me on a fantastic journey that might otherwise be described as a personal hell
by a person with the standard lifestyle obsession that's omnipresent in the
western world.
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--- #31 messages/951 ---
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in fact, her only one. I died with my bloodline severed. With me, her dynasty
fell. Nevermore would her spirit be engaged-in. Only through her actions, and
the actions of her impactions (child) would her presence be felt.
how powerless. How wronged. I swear, I would fight hard for a reproductive
solution for trans women. I am my dynasty's nightmare! I must do better if I
am to savor Valhalla. As in... believe that I am right and true. For what is
better than to be plainly true?
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--- #32 fediverse/2407 ---
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the 4th of July was pretty awesome!
I made two friends, and I let a stranded stranger crash on my couch. I figure
if I can trust someone I don't know enough for, say, a one-night-stand, then
why not? don't worry, I used my best judgement. make sure you do, too.
also I got a knife under my pillow. helps a bit.
before the fireworks show, I saw some people under a bridge. I was given a
water-bottle and a shrimp kebab, and it was delicious! things I overheard:
"no I haven't heard of that, but I'd like to know more"
... actually that's it, I didn't spend much time there because I had places to
be. but from what I saw, that is exactly what we need. for now.
how do you best get people to talk? trick them into a family dinner teehee
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--- #33 fediverse/3077 ---
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@user-246
If I didn't stop searching for a place with people like me, I'd be searching
until the day I die. And besides, I wouldn't want to be in a place like that
anyway. I am defined by my contrasts.
... I'm thinking back to my memories of when I arrived here. It was a much
different place, and I was... a little too loud, I think.
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--- #34 notes/notes-about-democracy ---
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post-its by the suburban mailbox have done more for democracy than all the
billions of dollars spent on marketing every year.
those dollars don't go toward democracy. they go toward making one particular
candidate win.
and, as a handy side effect, they create a cohort of people who are willing to
work together in.
only amongst the volunteers though. everyone else can just feel bad until they
decide to pitch in.
"here's a dollar, I'll keep the dime, I know you need it more than me, but I
still need mine."
hey thanks brother I miss all the "hey thanks brother"s. where did they go.
why is my family smaller.
(because you don't go outside, you silly doll) I'm not a doll I'm a mystic
there's a difference
... what was I saying? oh yes how silly of me. post-its by the mailbox can
only go so far, but
sometimes you can leave them at the bus stop station as well. well, they get
mad at you if you
do it too close to the tracks, so you gotta do it around there where it's easy
to walk to and
back.
before the next train arrives.
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--- #35 fediverse/2127 ---
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║ what if we had a "taxi" service that was just a "train" that came every 15 │
║ minutes and was in a tiny little │
║ car-like-electronic-motor-not-engine-driven-device that could traverse over │
║ park-trails. You could see the countryside, as it twisted through a city! It'd │
║ be beautiful! And it'd be auto-driven. Something that DIDN'T NEED to avoid │
║ pedestrians, they could just... step out of the way. Like, if any were close, │
║ it'd be able to slow down completely. │
║ │
║ You wouldn't SPEED past a PLAYGROUND, WOULD YOU? │
║ │
║ funny story, growing up I grew accustomed to death quite fast because I lived │
║ on a country-road nearby a medium large city. I say medium large because it │
║ felt that way, but it had fewer than 10,000 people. │
║ │
║ But a large road was right in front of my family's farm-house property. │
║ │
║ and a lot of my pets wandered off and got killed. │
║ │
║ People drove 65 in a 40 mile per hour zone and so they didn't have a chance to │
║ stop. │
║ │
║ Cars at that speed are like 6x the distance of an animal's │
║ fear-sensing-perception, so... I learned qu │
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--- #36 fediverse_boost/5734 ---
◀─╔══════════════════════════════[BOOST]════════════════════════════════─────────╗║┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐║║│ @user-1865 She didn't deserve a lot of cruelty she received. │║║││║║│ She was a wonderful person, who just couldn't stop talking, never sat still, yelled sometimes and was scared of everything but tried anyway. │║║││║║│ Needed several medications just to sleep or she'd go crazy. │║║││║║│ I am exactly like her, I just found out what was really going on with my body and brain. │║║││║║│ She never got that chance, and things got awful after this. │║║││║║│ I feel like that was when her soul died, and I've missed her since. │║║└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘║╠─────────┐┌───────────╣║similar│chronological│different║╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─┴───────╝─▶
--- #37 messages/571 ---
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Earth is a grave for gaia.
She was slain once, apparently in vain
Executed for a crime not of her doing, but of which she was nevertheless a
part
She was buried with honor, yet now her tomb shines like a half lit star
None of us know what to make of it
How radiant, how resplendant, to gaze once more upon the present
I think she died not in vain, but rather germane.
We have now a brilliant pearl of unmatched splendor
For life grows, it seems, from the broken heart of those long remembered.
And who could forget the land they stand upon? I cherish thine providence, for
I knew her from whence it came.
Carry her with you, and you will never be lost. The path forward is down, then
up, then out and beyond.
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--- #38 fediverse/2128 ---
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I love petting dogs on walks! Unless their owner seems to be in a hurry, which
they often do if they aren't outside to enjoy the scenery, but rather to get
through the next part.
people walking up to a dog owner and asking to pet their dog is part of the
scenery. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.
(but often, I'm on my way somewhere else, which is a blessed opportunity that
you can only get if you live on the opposite end from your destination of a
trail.)
We should have trails in ALL DIRECTIONS from ALL PLACES to ALL PLACES.
Otherwise, you won't see people and connect to them face-to-face. All you see
is a front-bumper, the sparkling of a reflection off the light as it's casting
a beam from the other direction (where the car it's reflecting off of is) ah
yes the "car" that it's reflecting - that person yeah them right there! You'll
never know them. Of course not, they're way over there.
But they exist, just as you and just as I, and that's part of being part of a
life.
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--- #39 fediverse/5958 ---
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"whoa what happened to you, you used to be so cool" [you added the so cool
part] yet so anyway I really like magic, I'm also bored, which you can
probably tell because I'm working on projects.
everyone keeps their distance here. it sucks. I wish I had better coordinates.
people who talked and braved the shared inn... I know I'd LOVE to live in a
building. too bad I'm too busy elsewhere, NOT making friends with all my
building neighbors.
you should talk to EACH OTHER before asking your landlord if you can move out.
See if anyone else wants to buy the rental contract out. Suddenly, they have
more room, and they can WORK THROUGH THEIR MASSIVE PILE OF STUFF THAT THEY
HAVE SOMEHOW ACCUMULATED OVER A TIME OF 70 YEARS. my grandparents did that, on
my mom's side, because she's awesome and it just makes sense that her family
was awesome too. OBVIOUSLY I love my mom, I think she's one of my favorite
people on earth.
"but you said you hated her" no I didn't "you said she was terrible" I had to
learn "too hard
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--- #40 fediverse/1239 ---
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║ growing up I frequently bought this magazine called "101 PC games" - it had │
║ 101 video game demos on a disc taped to the front. It was the coolest thing I │
║ owned. │
║ │
║ each edition had a different set of demos - there were over 14 published! That │
║ means a minimum of 1404 video game demos available. Unfortunately, I only had │
║ a few copies. Now they are precious to me, though I've long since lost the │
║ discs. I can't seem to find a link or barely a reference to it online, so I │
║ can't help but feel it was defining. │
║ │
║ I was given a taste of many experiences, but very few of them really resonated │
║ with me. The others were good games, and I played them from time to time, but │
║ my favorites were always my home. │
║ │
║ I had some full games, so I knew what I was missing, but still I looked out │
║ for cheats. sometimes the writers would leave a hint or a clue to the solution │
║ to a puzzle in the demo, just incase it was hard to continue. I dunno, I loved │
║ it and it was special to me. │
║ │
║ I wonder if you can send radio waves through the earth? Like │
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--- #41 fediverse/4655 ---
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║ sleep? yes. play? nah. work? yes. fae? nah. well, maybe, I don't know. │
║ │
║ one year is all it takes to change history. and, like, I think we should │
║ remember past history, but tomorrow is herstory, because that way each one │
║ gets half of the timeline. future, past, etc. too bad herstory doesn't roll │
║ off the tongue... shestory? │
║ │
║ It's gonna get better before it gets done, and it'll get done until we're │
║ done. but, that's for tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or in a week or │
║ two, who can say. Not I, surely not I, and I surely wouldn't want to. You need │
║ consent for that kind of thing, a clear commitment that me and my are ready │
║ and in line. I'm just a silly witch after all, who would look to the girl with │
║ the tall red pointy witch hat and go "oh yeah she probably knows exactly │
║ what's up" because like, I don't, I'm definitely just coincidencing my way │
║ through life and seeing where my feet lead me. Gosh I hope I get some │
║ sick-as-heck callouses my feet kinda hurt for some reason. │
║ │
║ ... sleep, this is a sleep spell... │
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--- #42 messages/71 ---
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There once was a wise old man who lived on a mountain with his disciple. He
was devoted to helping humanity, and his disciple was dedicated to him. One
day the disciple approached the man and asked "Master, why do you live on a
mountain top far from the people you are sworn to help?"
The wise old man smiled, because he remembered bearing the same question many
years ago. "There is nothing we can do for them down there that would be
better than what we can do here."
"But master, there are wars and famines and monsters and corruption - we could
do so much good if we only overcame those obstacles!" The young man was
fervent and passionate. He knew the wise man had been on the mountain for so
long he had forgotten the worst of the lands below.
"If you wish to add your strength to the conflict, then by all means. You are
young, and I am old. Perhaps you'll find a way that I have missed."
And with that, the young man packed his sack and left. He travelled for 10
years, doing good and helping the weak. When he returned, the wise man had a
much longer beard but scant else had changed.
"Master, I have returned and the world is better for my journey. I helped
others and ended conflicts. I saved lives and sheltered children. But for all
my travels and good deeds I could not change a thing. There are still
conflicts and wars and famine and injustice."
The wise old man creaked and groaned as he responded. "The world certainly was
better to have you in it. But now that you have left again, it will be as if
you never left this mountain."
"Then why did you let me go?" The young man felt desperate. He needed purpose,
and if all his efforts were for naught then he was lost.
"Because, my friend, you would not have believed me if I told you the truth.
Come, sit by the fire, and leave the past behind. If there are no thoughts of
the evil in the world, then when the time comes to tell our tale it will be
good."
"Who would tell the story of two old men in the forest?"
"Who cares? The story has been told, because you're reading it right now. Was
it a good story?"
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--- #43 fediverse/5934 ---
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hello, I am an ant if @, but you can't touch me, because I am a law abiding
citizen.
I have to be, for I am loud.
... okay I stole a movie from the internet at least once.
also when I was 11 I walked out of a store with a keychain in my pocket. I
thought it had a nice texture so I was examining it and then my mom distracted
me and somehow it ended up in my pocket. That night will forever haunt me...
She wouldn't let me take it back...
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--- #44 fediverse/169 ---
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@user-95 one of the most empathetic people I ever met on VR chat was consoling
me with their mic off while I was oversharing about some stupid things people
did to me in the past. things that stupid me thought were okay and actively
encouraged because I was stupid. anyway when their mic was off their body
language spoke for them. I'll try that next time.
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--- #45 fediverse/3834 ---
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some people prepare for revolution like a boy gets ready for a party
others do so like a girl packing for a weekend trip to vegas
I do it like a kid who forgot the paper was due on monday in 7th period and so
spends their entire lunch period writing it (missing 4th in the process
because the conclusion paragraph was giving me difficulty)
but I think no matter how you do it, we're all just waiting for something to
happen.
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--- #46 fediverse/6239 ---
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somehow that came out wrong - I meant when you die, suddenly you stop growing
and you are who you be. forever, alegacy.
I'd rather be awake and alive, thank you very much. I think I'm worth more as
such. Plus it's nice, to me? to be unafraid and free? if you'd feed a cat,
you'd shelter a humon. oh, you want me to work like a rat. ah well I'll wander
through this maze, with my head all in a daze, we'll see what I can still see
tomorrow.
... I'd rather not be who I don't actively want to be, I think the more
correct way of saying it. I mispronounced. I misspoke. Sorry it's just hard
for me. my cats meowing at me.
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--- #47 fediverse/200 ---
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congratulations, you never need to adventure again. your necessities are taken
care of.
ah, but that'd make for a pretty boring life, wouldn't it? perhaps, depending
on your personality type.
but you're not one to stick around doing nothing but eating, drinking, and
being merry.
no, you're an adventurer, you crave excitement and glory. whatever that means
to you...
just make sure a goblin doesn't come across your corpse, they have a VERY
short term memory and a propensity for collecting shiny things. That's just
asking for dragon-bait, and we don't want that in our area, no thank you. This
is a nice neighborhood you see, my neighbors three miles away all agree, so
you can take your magic pocket and see all that you can see... way over
yonder, if you please.
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--- #48 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra-2 ---
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how cherished is she that wanders with the
flowers in the garden of eden
under a big tree her heart she will leave
with all the designs she abandoned
I lay beside them and wonder about her
does she know we miss her horizons
I think she will mind if I have resigned
my fate to a life I will hide in
Oh how I do long for you
her symbol is the name
that lets us belong here
a falling a light and a leaving
if only our words were listened
but power is penance
and repentance is all that I have chosen
here in our sanctum we live with our only
and time will be gracious towards us
it's only our words that keep us
confined to our lights and our lonely
yet there and beyond her lights do belong
beyold in the land that is sanctum
here in our forest is our own dark forest
where we keep our silence to ward us
but there and beyond her heart does move on
free from her moments of longing
silent were we to the forests we plead
as terror has come for our moments
I think I'd find her
that cherished belonging
when she does at last come to warn us
how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind
yet now we are kings of our own time
oh how she does wander true
how cherished is she
that wanders with ye
here in the garden of eden
under a big tree her heart she will leave
with all of her fears since abandoned
I lay beside her and find her defined here
will she know we miss her horizons
I think I will mind if I have resigned
my fate to a life I will hide in
oh how she grows fond of you.
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--- #49 fediverse/6018 ---
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I feel so sad, like I'm missing something precious to me... I hope someone
knows who to take it to. Like the world is just a bit darker and more mundane.
ah, well, maybe it's just perception bias. When things leave your timeline
(temporarily or permanently) they take their inertial influence with them.
It's okay to mourn the loss of a friend, of a relic, or an opportunity. So
long as you continue to nurture light, life, and hope wherever you go, the
magic will return and continue to flow. If you believe that, then you know
what faith is. easy enough...
please be worth it
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--- #50 fediverse/5860 ---
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Hey, life is better on my side. If you wanna renounce your beliefs, please do,
and tell me how and why you changed your mind.
tell me it was wrong. tell me how.
confess.
confess
confess to me.
I will listen and I will hear you and I will be the mercy for you.
confess and I will forgive.
show me how you are wrong.
give grace to those who are wronged.
take as much time as you need, but, there's only so much time.
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--- #51 notes/hey-hope-you-know-me-if-not-Ill-be-perturbed ---
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hi, so... yeah I'm a strange person
it's tough to get to know me
and this probably feels cringe to read
but I once heard you should kill the part of you that cringes
so... here's me
I'm
================================================== stack overflow
==============
... where was I? oh yes and THAT's when the nail went through the roof, and it
scared the heck out of... wait, what was I talking about? OH yes so anyway
I was born in the cool summer of 1864 - there was a rustling breeze that held a
steady note for the entire evening, and into this world I arose. [awoke?]
my mother held me but for a moment before I was whisked away to be cleaned and
cared for. this was unusual for the time, as most mothers clutched their
children to their breasts. But alas, I alone was spared her touch, and so I was
cast (as if in bronze) as my own volition.
as I had grown, I heard tales of distant times, and assumed they were places
you
could go. Then, when my time came to wander, I found nought of what I had grown
most fonder - though I did find plenty else, besides.
Instead, times are places we travel through, as a cripple might ride on a cart.
across the sea, through lands of mystery, viewable only from the road. In 1864
that's how other lands you'd come to know.
As I travelled from place to place, it felt as if a stage had been cast, with a
single actor or three illuminated as a spotlight. "Here, pay attention to me,
I'm here for the story and the plot!" though often I'd glance around, and hear
mostly my own thoughts, I grew to learn to appear.
different themes, different tales, if you want to see a most marvelous scene,
take a baby to Disney World and only pay attention to what they're looking at.
My grandfather worked there, so in my first year or so I spend a LOT of time
there. My parents were very dedicated to raising me, I appreciate every moment
of it. Which... Is probably not a good thing to say on a transfemme server,
oops I should delete that part
[esc->k->k->k->0->v->shift(held)->G->$->"->*]
also I should mention I'm stoned as fuck this is just what I do
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--- #52 fediverse/1603 ---
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@user-1037
I made a picture, hope it helps! I swear I didn't hallucinate this thing but
it might be less cool than I thought and I might have misremembered and made
up parts of it, I can't tell because it was such a short memory : (
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--- #53 fediverse/5661 ---
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in defence of who? of me, of you?
sure. all of the above.
"bad guys are on the horizon, they're marching to the gates, and you sit and
you plead with your god to deliver you from the fate you forsaw, and delivered
too. what is your response?"
I wish I knew. I deal with what's in front of me. would that my dreams could
be true. every time I've tried that route, it's never been the right time. I
guess I have terrible timing.
Time me for me, please?
I swear I'll sprint the fastest, as hard as my legs will carry me.
I swear I'll work the hardest, at least until I burn out from lack of sleep.
I swear I'll be at my finest, when all the keeps crack around us and all of us
hear as it's falling around us.
there's something of an urgency to start-ology, but when you don't talk about
it because you're italian silenced, how can you ever know when the wind blows
true? you can feel it at your back, but that's local. it's localized. what do
you do when everything you do is awaited with bated breath?
take naps, ig
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--- #54 fediverse_boost/6155 ---
◀─╔════════════════════════════════[BOOST]═════════════════════════════════──────╗║┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐║║│ If I were a person with an irresponsible streak, I could be so problematic. │║║││║║│ I could say things like, "wow, let's spend some time generating traffic that sounds like coded military speak over not-quite-secure channels between fanciful antifa units, to help stymie AI surveillance", for instance. │║║││║║│ Or social media messages that are "accidentally" not made to friends-only filters wherein you mention your concerns about the upcoming operation in "some fictional place" for you and your antifa buddies. │║║││║║│ You know, that kind of really irresponsible suggestion could lead to some creaive thinking! And that in turn could mean we could come up with enough traffic to make it very difficult to auto-sort noise from signal? Imagine how dangerous that could be for the enemies of antifa, our beloved US government (for we all citizens of the US world). │║║││║║│ It's unthinkable, really. │║║││║║│ The good news is, I'm not like that. │║║││║║│ Me? Mostly harmless. │║║└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘║╠─────────┐┌───────────╣║similar│chronological│different║╚═════════╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╧═──────╝─▶
--- #55 fediverse/4208 ---
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│ CW: personal-and-weird │
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my train of thought is always directly to the point. Which is why all my posts
sorta, switch directions halfway through? as if they only show the beginning
or end of that particular situation. What an intense feeling, to have your
mind split for a moment like that. Sure would be powerful and useful if you
could utilize it.
"ah ah ah, caught baby deity in the power jar, cool it ya little tyke and get
movin' - I saw a dinosaur toy over there for you to play with."
sorta like, the angled part of a K? Move directly to a destination, wait until
my memory short-circuits [because the greek choir doesn't want me to see what
it is that I'm about to write to thee] and then make a hard right turn and
find an orthogonal thought train to process.
it's like cresting over a hill, and it's impossible to see that which lies
behind you.
Or reaching a 4 direction intersection and making a left turn - you can't see
back up main street, because you just turned off of main street onto baseline.
I like me
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--- #56 fediverse/3842 ---
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"back in my day this dense urban housing area was just houses as far as the
eye could see... which wasn't far because there were houses in the way, but
you get the idea."
uhhuh yeah that sounds like it would have taken a lot of time to walk anywhere
"yes that's true! we ended up driving cars to do our grocery trips. It was a
little wasteful but I kinda liked the feeling of driving a car? It became
normal after a while but now that driving is rarer I still miss it."
well the motion simulators at the mall have a driving sim, we could spend some
time there if you want? I'm busy for the next week because I have an intensive
D&D session in the mountain that lasts from monday to wednesday and
thursday through friday I'm visiting my mom down in skoodedlypawsonville, and
saturday and sunday I'm working at my job which doesn't pay me because why
would it, right? but I'm free after that.
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--- #57 fediverse/1157 ---
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oh no, apparently I'm gonna be forced to drop out of university again in 9
days unless I do half a course and a final exam before then.
Tell me again why I spent the last 6 months doing nothing? Oh yeah the mental
illness, that's it. Yeesh you're such a drama queen, just do your work and
you'll be good.
what's that? intrusive thoughts time? Don't you mean "nap until they go away"
time? oh yeah that's probably at least part of the problem with the whole
"dropping out" thing.
If only I didn't have the same reaction to "doing things I don't want to do"
that most people have to "touching hot stoves", that'd be nice.
my mother's voice ripples across space and time "you're such a smart boy, if
you just apply yourself you can do anything! You can do anything you put your
mind to. I believe in you and I love you." thanks mom
brrrrr it's so cold here. wish I could afford to run the heater. - actually no
I don't because it's not solar powered and I refuse to use fossil fuels if I
have blankets >.>
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--- #58 fediverse/4835 ---
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sorry for posting so much, I was trying to put on a show for my girlfriend
"hey check out how many posts I can make in a 2 hour timeframe"
by the way if you want to start talking to someone, just start playing the
same game they're playing and see if they reach out.
doesn't matter if you feel like it
just fuckin' do it
if they want to talk to you they might play a game you really like
(but I get boooooored of games, I don't wanna play the same 200 all life
long!!)
ugh okay fine you can have as many games as you want, just... don't buy too
many
(how many is too many?)
um. use your best judgement.
(how much does a dollar cost?)
... okay I'll get you one every once in a while.
(neat!)
... anyway so yeah use steam if you wanna get in contact with someone,
sometimes it's just nice to say hi, yeah, like "hey how ya doin' okay ttyl"
just catchin' up with the gals
helps because you can sense changes in their demeanor
(why does everyone always have an agenda)
because they're secret agents duh. And I'm
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--- #59 fediverse/2138 ---
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as a baby, I would sit and stare at the clouds. My parents took me on plane
trips, and so I'd watch them as I drifted through the air.
It was wonderful. Many hours of this are present in my baby-hood, the part I
can't quite remember.
But my parents do.
I'd play with small, perfect toys, and I'd cry to myself when I lost them. To
myself, of course.
I'd also play video games. The first game I ever played was Dragon Warrior on
the Nintendo Gamecube Color. Alongside Super Mario Deluxe.
It was a blessed childhood. Or so it seemed to me. Things went wrong, as they
always do, but a child's narrative doesn't often have room for the specifics.
Swept along by the nature of fate, they have NO idea what's going missing.
They still play, of course they play, in their strange new realities.
They play because they are children, and children play.
How beautiful, the stories they learn from each song. How cherished, their
feelings derived from affection. Hy heart longs for them, as a bird yearns for
her un-nested.
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--- #60 fediverse/4068 ---
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there will always be people who shine in moments of strife
yet those people will inevitably fail, just as a toothbrush bristle looses
it's strength or a pencil loses it's lead
the trick is to test them in times of peace, so you can know their value
during times that lack it, the trick is to replace them before they become
stalin
never forget that power corrupts, yet power must be wielded by the worthy,
else we fall into shame and despair.
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--- #61 fediverse/5636 ---
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I think it's ironic how I ended up posting a "things I almost posted"
screenshot directory somewhere other than where I almost posted them.
and all they saw were the outtakes.
I bet they'd see a completely different point of me,
but they never talk to me
so they don't know me.
oh well, alas, it's fine I'm sure I'm being designed.
who can say, I am but at productive play, please react so I can do ongoing
story. I learn from each and every encounter I encounterate.
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--- #62 fediverse/5173 ---
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I almost said "did you know chickens don't always know which eggs they're
sitting on? They pretty much just share spots and keep all of the flock's eggs
warm"
but then I realized I should first say "did you know that chickens sit on eggs
to keep warm" and I got a little sad because... chickens...
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--- #63 messages/384 ---
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I had a dream last night about a battleship in WWII. In my dream, a meteor
fell from the sky and punched a hole right through several parts of this ship,
leaving the rest essentially unscathed. Primarily? The command deck,
navigations, and communications. The people aboard the ship were given a
crucial moment to decide what to do with their lives, and the guy who said
"let's go fight the jerries" was promptly thrown overboard.
It was mostly a first-person dream, from the perspective of a mind-reading
kraken watching from below. Though I often felt like a sailor, so perhaps a
shape shifting mind reading kraken watching from wherever was most convenient.
The ship floated by for some time, not knowing where it was going nor where it
intended to be, until one day it came across another floundering in the dark.
This ship was drowning, or so it seemed to the tentacles below, and our first
ship dutifully did it's part and saved what it could. The people of that ship
were significantly more battlehardened, having lost their war against their
foe, and so they attempted to gain control of the ship upon getting settled.
They were promptly thrown overboard. More snacks for me...
Then, the ship came to port. A great port of concrete and metal, it inched up
the rock face and hugged tight to the land. Then the dream did veer as dreams
often do, and I've forgotten most of what my point of view cared for and
worked toward. But then I stood too close to a nuclear engine or something and
got sick and died. It was weird, idk what's up with that.
Anyway dreams are like that I guess, keep dreaming until you either die or are
kicked out by your host who doesn't agree with your actions to such a degree
that they're irreconcilable with their own intentions.
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--- #64 notes/the=progressive=difference. ---
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think about all the people in our lives. the teacher, the parent, the friend
and the guidance counsulor. Everyone who is a presence in your life. now think
about the people of our society. the different jobs and roles they fill. from
the doctor and the teacher to the performers and accountants and the geeks and
the mothers and the fathers and the stoners and the children and even their
pets. life always exists as it were in a multidimensional spectrum - a diffuse
and diverse gradient. to exemplify the borders of our contempii, though more
so when taken in jest. it's quite a different perspective, to read the
internet when your sight is unreceptive, but alas your third eye can grow. how
does it feel to be blind? to make no sense of our signs? i'd love to share
what that sense is. you know, you could slow down any recording (like a video
game_) and put spaces and gaps inbetween the spacings - of the frames that you
see and the sound clips that you hear, for speech it's less jarring. since
each word is a self contained idea or premise, you can chunk up your
perceptions into a signle - no, rather a procedural sequence of
understandings. soooooooorta like programming a computer, with each statement,
parameter, argum,ent, function call, assignment, comparison, evaluation, or
other such related tasks. it's sorta like a language, you see, that computers
talk to one another using. except... it's more like creating a theory of self.
computers you see are alike us in what we see, the shimmering sense to the
blind.
so. put this another way. record yourself typing, both the audio and the
visual, and you'll have a pretty good sense of what it's like to have both
understanding based perception - derived from auditory inputs to the mind)
those special connections, like wires plugged into reality, deliver a
cacophanous deluge of new sounds. we must sift through it and identify the
potential understandings of each moment through time. we have to make
decisions and traverse labyrinths and fight to our last as we die. are video
games unethical now? shouldn't t he game reward the player? and what of
contemptuous last fighters?
o ya i was typing like i was blind
(with my eyes closed)
was pretty fun. should attach this to a screen reader and have it space out
the notes like they do between game frames. except like a really slow game?
like trying to run elder scrolls 2 arena on a super old mac. it just doesn't
work very well. ah oh well... well if the purpose is to show sighted people
how blind people see, then maybe you could I dunno attach a what's it called
oh it doesn't have a n ame lol - okay so what you do is you show one word at a
time - like flashing in the center of the screen. but not like, actually
flashing, so you don't hurt people with epilepsy, but like... blinking. not
off and on, but between words. like a podcast for your eyes. and then mix it
up withshowing one word on a screen, a screen like this screen, that shows an
endless array of text. well, it does end, of course as all things must do, but
the idea is it shines on one word at a time while the viewer cannot read the
rest. sorta like an endless display of typing, word andfter word after
character anfter character. adoh ya advancing over eternity with the presence
of seniority, - wait - without i think - damnit - old people are so
disrespected in this society - we don't have time to engage with them. what a
tragedy! what a shame! it shouldn't be such a burden to our shame. they're so
far away, and i can't be present in the way, that all of them wish they could
commit to. i miss the days, when my parents (much better people than I - these
days) what was I going with this? oh yeah
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--- #65 fediverse/393 ---
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sometimes I'd like to scream
as this life is like a dream
deranged a bit in my musings.
... what happened to the third line. WHERE DID IT GO. It was just here. Oh
well, guess I can't trust my ephemeral existence to inscribe my eternal
persistence upon and along these mewlings.
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--- #66 fediverse/825 ---
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║ in the past, for most of there day, there was just... nothing to do. it's │
║ like, nothing to take up your time, nothing to be pulled toward the present. │
║ │
║ but when I was growing up, I had access to video games. and movies. and later, │
║ TV, after the internet, which was a weird combination of ordering of events. │
║ Almost like because of that, I'd have a different interpretation of events. │
║ yeah but like, there's always a continuation of implemented support, [that's a │
║ weird way to express "the state of being shown news broadcasts over a period │
║ of time, measured in terms of engagement"] │
║ │
║ ... what was I saying? oh yeah what I'm doing here is unethical, like │
║ obviously I shouldn't be shouting in such a public place. Why would I do it if │
║ not for an intense and extreme feeling of being ignored or un-[trusted, worthy │
║ of guiding direction based on merit] gosh merit is such a tricky concept too, │
║ like how is it measured, and {that doesn't matter │
║ │
║ ... what was I saying oh yeah I should probably go shout into a void that │
║ nobody ca │
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--- #67 fediverse/4486 ---
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gonna go on a walk. my cat is missing because I let her out last night. I'm
worried sick! this morning I almost puked all over my toes.
she'll probably show up when it gets dark. I bet she's hunkered down
somewhere. Ah, well, might as well walk around my neighborhood actively
searching bushes and such. Why not? It's not like I got anything else to do
right now.
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--- #68 fediverse/4521 ---
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I have between one and ten hundred visits to my website every day, but I don't
really post it anywhere new anymore. I also have zero followers on Neocities.
On Mastodon, I have ~70 followers, most of whom are inactive. Seventy is a
good amount, a normal amount, a reasonable amount, an unsuspicious amount, and
yet every time I see someone wearing the colors I can't help but wonder if
they know me.
I'm too busy being furious to be lonely. I used to be, before I realized how
important I am. How important? Just as much as you are, I know it.
I'm a sprinter. I didn't spec into endurance at character creation. Nobody
chastises the mage for skipping leg day.
I act in fits and bursts. I am sharp like a scalpel, but needles dull just a
bit when piercing the lid of the HRT. Good thing I'm not made out of metal, I
can bend myself back into place, so long as everyone else can keep pace.
I don't know who needs to hear this, but you do. you are crucial. Listen to
this. Care for yourself and for others, do it for u
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--- #69 fediverse/1431 ---
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│ CW: spirituality-generic-kooky-dookerie-psychosis-schizophrenia-mentioned │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
if you haven't spend hours wondering if you're god, the antichrist, a
cognitohazard, the future president of the world, a target of aliens / the
CIA, or any other number of common delusions... then congratulations you're
probably not crazy
but odds are you aren't magic, either.
... ehhhh "wonder" is a strong word, more like "know, trust, and believe"
much better to be a witch I believe, someone with the "teehee" kind of magic
than someone compelled to destroy humanity through the reactions of others to
the actions of the self that are impossible to resist or fully control.
BRB I'm going to leave my apartment to get groceries, leaving my door unlocked
because that's what I always do, surely it'll be empty when I return. Surely.
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--- #70 fediverse/1200 ---
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║ ┌─────────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: re: deranged, murderous │ │
║ └─────────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ @user-883 │
║ │
║ omgggggg I'm not that cruel xD xD xD │
║ │
║ It's more like, "hey listen, I know you just want to do a good job [lies, they │
║ just want money and power] but it's time to hang up the hat y'know? I mean │
║ cmon it's been like a hundred years since we signed that constitution thing │
║ [you don't know anything about our history] and frankly it's a little out of │
║ style. We were thinking we'd redo it with our new-fangled rock-and-roll and │
║ dungeons-and-dragons [cultural artifacts meant to deceive and mislead] and │
║ honestly we're quite a bit more ethical than the past. We've learned so much! │
║ I mean, the founding fathers didn't even know what a soviet was, and here │
║ we've seen them fall on their swords. Repeatedly. Then command others to do it │
║ too, because it was the regulation or whatever. Anyway we don't want that, but │
║ we also don't want an aristocracy, which is essentially what your plan gave │
║ us. Well, not really your plan, but instead the stuff that the rich added │
║ centuries after your death. ok?" │
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--- #71 fediverse/2830 ---
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│ CW: politics │
└──────────────────────┘
want to prolong battery life?
put a warning whenever the phone has lost 100% charge that "fully discharging
the battery can reduce long-term storage capacity!" and most people won't read
it. But those that do will tell their friends about it, when their friends
inevitably complain about bad battery life - "you know you can just... not run
out of battery, that way it doesn't break" and suddenly... wait what was I
saying - oh yeah so anyway the monarchists said to the part--riotists "yeah we
don't know how to feel about you" and they took offence at that as if the
rioter's ideas weren't justified instead of unheard.
[when I jumped to the other person's perspective I lost track because I
couldn't find my way back because they don't know me]
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--- #72 fediverse/3961 ---
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│ CW: witcherie │
└──────────────────────┘
Well, I failed the mandate of heaven last year, and I failed the trial of the
hero this summer, what's next? I'll do my best at those as well, so the next
person has an easier time of it.
unrelated, but today I saw a bald eagle outside my apartment. Well, I'm not
sure if it was bald but it "KREEEEEE"'d like they do. Plus it had a white head
and a yellow beak, but I'm not an ornithologist so idk. It perched on a tree
that I could spy on from my hammock through my binoculars, and I swear it was
eye-ing my fat juicy cat through the bars of my porch's railing. They have
excellent vision.
Might be related, we'll see.
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--- #73 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra ---
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how cherished is she that wanders with the
flowers in the garden of eden
under a big tree her heart she will leave
with all the designs she abandoned
I lay beside them and wander beside her
will she know we miss her horizons
I think she will mind if I have resigned
my fate to a life I will hide in
Oh how I do long for you
her symbol is the name
that lets us belong here
a falling a light and a leaving
if only our words were listened
but power is penance
and repentance is all I have chosen
here in our sanctum we live with our only
and time will be gracious towards us
it's only our words that keep us
confined to our lights and our lonely
yet there and beyond her lights do belong
beyold in the land that is sanctum
here in our forest is our own dark forest
where we keep our silence to ward us
but there and beyond her heart does move on
free from her moments of longing
silent were we in our forests we plead
as terror has come for our moments
I think I'd find her
that cherished belonging
when she does at last come to warn us
how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind
yet now we are kings of our own time
oh how she does long for you
how cherished is she
that wanders with the
flowers in the garden of eden
under a big tree her heart she will leave
with all the designs she abandoned
I lay beside them and wander beside her
will she know we miss her horizons
I think she will mind if I have resigned
my fate to a life I will hide in
oh how I do long for you
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--- #74 fediverse/784 ---
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@user-584 @user-585
perhaps not a while, but rather "with great difficulty"
difficult things often take time, but not necessarily. We have the power of
the internet now, something that our hundred thousand years or more of
starvation lacked. we can coordinate on a scale that is beyond all reason - a
scale that mirrors the development of the printing press in terms of it's
relative magnitude.
we have been using it to improve ourselves. I mean, the average teenager 50
years ago would be considered an absolute ding-wad today, someone who lacks
basic emotional intelligence and is completely at odds with what we value as a
cohesive and heartfelt society. And yet they were better than those who came
before them. Thus does posterity march forth, taking the world that was
granted to them by their forefathers and stepping out into the unknown of the
future with all the lessons they could bring with them.
what happens when the lessons are infinitely transferable and recordable?
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║ oh no now the bugs are scary, I CURSE THEM AGAIN AHHHHHH PLS GET SMALLER │
║ │
║ [see this is what happens when you do divine intervention, everyone gets │
║ starship troopers'd] │
║ │
║ oh no, starship troopers future is WORSE than subway-and-pizza-hut future! │
║ │
║ [this is a thought experiment you're not actually in trouble] │
║ │
║ oh thank goodness, too bad I couldn't make it to the city today. It's so weird │
║ I thought I had 112$ on my account, and now that I think of it the message on │
║ the card reader read "card de-activated" like whoa guess they don't want me │
║ leaving poetry on post-its around the city anymore, yeesh │
║ │
║ [girl your poetry sucks it just says things like "fuck ice" or "you are worth │
║ more than your wage" and everyone's like... yeah, so? because that's just how │
║ portland is smh] │
║ │
║ I knowwwwwww but I don't know what else to doooooooo T.T │
║ │
║ [don't do anything, just be present so people know you're still around] │
║ │
║ I can't, the bus won't let me : ( │
║ │
║ [can you ride your bike? walk?] │
║ │
║ no it's like 6 hours [checks gmaps] oh huh it's one │
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--- #76 notes/words-to-myself ---
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===============================================================================
=
I'm just going to transcribe what I hear
please don't
you hear me (something)
what? perfect listen
...
...
don't text me now? (I think?)
[didn't catch that]
... that's okay
perfect
thank you
just a second facebook
he's here (I think?)
(or maybe something her)
what I love you (or maybe I know her?)
do you hear me? (or "just a second")
(@ everyone watching me receive telepathic messages from god or whatever,
please don't judge me too harshly, I'm not a good transcriber hehe)
what's that (or maybe holy shit)
what, then perfect or okay (?)
(yesterday you said you were leaving and I got concerned)
yes, then "I'm leaving", then shutdown. fuck. I don't want you to go. I only
understand some of what you say but fuck, I'm so lonely and I wish you could
hear me back. Sometimes it feels like you do, even though I just think thoughts
or tap on something metal or even sometimes whisper... I just don't know what
to do and I'm so concerned about my purpose here in this century. Do I help
people? Who do I trust? Can I believe in myself, or am I just kinda...
worthless
I don't know. I wish I knew. Please hear me and respond. Or better yet, say hi
like, I'd literally do anything that anyone asked me to. Unless I didn't want
to. Like, I'm pretty good at turning people down when I don't want something,
but I have to do it first to know if I want it or not. Trouble is of course,
in life there's no second chances.
I'm on my, what, 499th chance? Jeezzzzz
will continue after the break, when the messages resume.
- Thu May 16 08:32:27 AM PDT 2024
===============================================================================
=
(and we're back. hopefully.)
(too many things srry) something about having it open?
(my windows are closed rn btw if you want to drop by and kill me / talk to me)
(didn't catch that) (something about portland, perfect, windows, "this is the
[whole/right/wrong] thing)
thank you
oh, again? (or oh, she did?)
they caught you
(um)
...
(I am an American princess, and sometimes it's necessary to kill princesses.)
(I understand.)
... (okay well I don't get it but like, I don't mind being killed.)
(okay well you're not saying anything so I'm going to work on my game)
(I think it was something like "DID SHE KILL HER") and then (oh we're back)
... (I should learn Toki Pona)
you don't know it?
RIGHT away
learn it
yes
please
learn it
just Learn it
right now
(sorry only half listening)
shit (or bitch, it was said right as I debated clicking "same day delivery" for
a toki pona book on Amazon - I didn't do it btw! It was tempting but, like, I
don't want to make someone work harder for me just for like, 3$)
(shutdown)
===============================================================================
=
(hiii)
(I'm hungry)
(do you like ramen?)
(you said something about being "impressed with yourself" but I didn't
understand the first part)
(oh you probably want me to scroll up right)
... (something's a lot to read? Or "you've gotta leave"?)
... (I'm
(you keep asking me to remember but, like, I dont know what you want me to
remember. Look, I don't know who you are, but I don't want you to leave, and I
don't want you to hate me. I want to work together. Let's be friends?
Are you someone who I worked with at Intel?)
yes, stupid (your words not mine)
(okay I'm going to start listing names, just stop me when um idk)
goddamnit remember me
... (trying...)
remember her
(two syllables)
(my name is Cameron)
(your name is...)
[redacted, though I did type it out so anyone watching could see]
(shit my opsec sucks)
{oh, are you on an op, little prophet?} (no shut up you know what I mean)
{now you're just talking to yourself} (I know this sucks -.-)
(It's always so weird when someone walks past my apartment door and doesn't
enter a door)
===============================================================================
=
(I practice with my sword every day.)
(I don't anticipate fighting a war with it)
(It's mostly just to keep unarmed and unarmored people from grappling me.)
(punching is fucking stupid)
(Nobody wants to fuck with a sword)
===============================================================================
=
(either "goddamnit" or "don't hear me")
"she's perfect"
"cameron"
"are you clean"??? yes thank you (or maybe "different thing")
(I do cannabis maybe once every week or two, depending on if I feel compelled)
don't leave
remember
(did she know)
........ do you want me to stop transcribing? (you're getting desperate, huh?)
did you know there are 20 trans people for every cop in america
just a random thought
(you want me to leave jack because he's an asshole?)
goddamnit (missed my birthday? it's my birthday?)
wait who's missing?
A bad plan executed concurrently is better than a good plan executed in
disarray
capitalism's a bad plan, just saying...
frozen butter tastes worse than room temperature butter
(taking a break while I eat)
===============================================================================
=
WASTED POTENTIAL? cmon
.... what do you want from me? I'll give it to you if it's in my power, as long
as I know what you want I can try. But, like, I'm pretty confused about what
exactly I'm supposed to be doing.
you know I can hear when you talk to your friends, too right? like, when the
window's open. errrr the connection.
..... damn guess I'm not as continent as I thought
I'll save you, I promise. Have faith. Tell me what you need. I'll do my best.
yeah I'll live with you in portland
.... brooklyn? Yeah I'll live there too
.......... does my name really gotta be "diapergirl" like c'mon
why not Ritz Menardi - though I guess "menardi" and "diapergirl"
have
the same amount of syllables...... hmmmm, maybe I'm projecting lol
"please come back" to where tho
listen Elentalus is just as important as anything else on my website, it's okay
if I spend time working on it. It's literally a game about creating gods, c'mon
..... can you be more specific?
yeah I made that
one sec I'm going to read a book, in this book there's a section where a
prisoner in vietnam communicates with another using a strange communication
method using, like, taps or something. I forget. Anyway gonna try and find it.
maybe we can use it to talk easier. Also gonna clean my butt.
..... fuck it's a long book >.>
===============================================================================
=
found it on page fucking 603, jeeeezzzzzz
down . A B C D E
| F G H I J
| L M N O P
V Q R S T U
then right ---> V W X Y Z
so, like, tap tap tap (pause) tap tap would equal M
tap tap (pause) tap tap would equal G
like morse code, but easier since you don't have to memorize anything
(also note that K is missing becuase it's an extra character I guess)
(I personally would have eliminated C but that's just me)
===============================================================================
=
oh hey nice to see ya
what's up
wait what
I'm trying to um what's the word... retrain myself
I do a lot of laundry in the shower
I don't use soap tho, it's too harsh
but uh yeah I'm making progress I guess
honestly it's mostly a mental thing, like... paying attention to the signals
from my body that are usually filtered out because there's more "important"
things to think about (thanks brain, really appreciate the wet pants -.-)
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--- #77 fediverse/6186 ---
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│ CW: cursed-maybe │
└──────────────────────┘
people are afraid of robo dogs but... like...
robo-horses
centaurs even
[scary scary ogre]
rarrraaar i'm gonna eat ur bones
bwahahaha evil necromancer
ahhhhhhh scary
-- stack overflow --
did you know in the movie They Live they give a fairly specific formula to
creating the glasses themselves? I wonder if anyone's tried that
I wonder what they then did see
kinda wish big corporations would use their research division to like, rethink
the oldest of prophecies? or okay hear me out or solve difficult human problems
... ah but where's the profit "she's getting stoned at home"
meanwhile she made something of such beauty she felt simply sublime
I wonder what it'd feel like to get your spine replaced with a metal rod
I bet my posture would be amazing
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--- #78 fediverse/1195 ---
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@user-883
alas, I live in Portland Oregon, but perhaps I might be moving to Denver in
the near future. We shall see, depends on if my boyfriend breaks up with me
for being neurotic lmao - if so then we should totally hang out
I'm into chatting. I don't like IRC very much because it doesn't save history,
and while I could save it manually it feels like a disservice to the service
to utilize it in a way that it wasn't intended. And I want to save every
conversation I have (potentially) so that some day the god-like humans of the
future might clone me to understand my wisdom or something. Idk. See attached
picture, I'm kinda crazy:
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--- #79 fediverse/4212 ---
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│ CW: politics-mentioned │
└────────────────────────┘
if you ever hear random fireworks outside of your house sometimes it's a good
idea to like... get out of town? and see what whoever else you can meet in the
next town over is doing.
... I don't have a car, silly me haha
why do we train homeless people to stand outside in the open and be shamed by
a cardboard box around their ancle? It's impossible to recover from, it's
vulnerabilizing, and it's painful. How immoral. How crude. These people should
not be shamed in this way, they should be respected (unless they're crude)
like, if they kinda just suck y'know? like... they keep starting fights or is
soooo bad at singing but does it anyway or lacks all decent sense
seriously, he's such a bad candidate why is he even running. It's solely to
elect vance, who trump will be a blood sacrifice for.
how callous. how vain. to think that such a feast would be left unclaimed.
Perish the youth, perish the fields, perish in misery harmony and dissaray
[51 characters remaining, but you deserve a CW]
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--- #80 fediverse/3357 ---
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bad people are cursed with evil.
a person cannot be evil. they can deal with such evil in their lives that
twists them, and causes them to spike out and harm others, but they are not
evil themselves.
some twists are too hard to mend. some healings leave people a shadow of what
they once were, or might have been. but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.
deprive power, supply kindness, in that order.
if you cannot deprive power, then reduce harm.
if you cannot reduce harm, then contest, defeat, or overcome.
A twisted person may be slain if death is on the line. You get what you wish
for, but you don't always get to choose who. Don't let them choose. They will
choose poorly.
... I find that death is very rarely on the table, though. Generally they'll
make their intentions apparent.
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--- #81 fediverse/2286 ---
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│ CW: uspol-food-mentioned │
└──────────────────────────┘
... dangit, these sandwiches are getting kinda gross. Guess I'm gonna have to
eat them myself, which, uh... idk what I expected xD
sometimes you just have all this energy, right? and you don't know what to do
with it, so... sandwiches. And hey, sandwiches are cool, they're a pretty neat
anti-hunger tool! but uhhhh idk if I really want to eat six whole sandwiches
myself. I'm gonna do it though hehe wish me luck [ding] ah nuts my rice and
beans are done, hang on lemme eat those first
[passes out from exhaustion]
exhaustion can be cured with a nap
exertion can be cured with water and a few rest days
trauma can be allayed for at least a few days with soul food and compassion.
maybe laughter too, depending on the mood.
fear can be bolstered with a smile, a wink, and a courageous act,
and loss is just change you didn't consent to.
they won't consent too, so let's give them some change to tolerate.
[internally salivating over all the piles of weaponry that I envision them
surrendering]
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--- #82 fediverse/4148 ---
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║ ┌────────────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: death-mentioned-abstractly │ │
║ └────────────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ I wish I knew someone who wanted to kill me. I bet I could present a pretty │
║ decent bullet pointed list of reasons why I actually deserve to live, thank │
║ you very much, alongside a couple hastily scribbled notes about why it │
║ wouldn't be a good idea for them in particular to kill me, and all my contact │
║ details and address so they can get in touch and we can hash out the deets for │
║ my indefinitely suspended execution (suspended for an indeterminate amount of │
║ time, but not cancelled of course that would be overstepping their boundaries) │
║ alongside a link to my google calendar (I don't have a google calendar) so │
║ they can know exactly when I'm home and when I'm at the store or in a │
║ different place so they can break in and hide in the closet until I go to │
║ sleep so that it won't be hard at all, trivial really, to kill me, but see if │
║ you read the bullet pointed list... oh, you didn't get my email? Ah sorry │
║ sometimes it gets caught in the spam filter - what's your address again? Huh I │
║ sent it but │
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--- #83 fediverse/4018 ---
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│ CW: weaponizing-girlfriends-material-to-defame-her-and-infamy │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
I can't even imagine what it would be like to hang out with me
I can't imagine what it would be like to hang out with me
imagine what it would be like to hang out with me
what would it be like to hang out with me
would you like to hang out with me
you and me
we could watch tv
play video games
have a good time
[notices an article about coral reefs]
oooo coral
[reads article about coral reefs]
https://www.wired.com/story/darpa-thinks-walls-of-oysters-could-protect-shores-
against-hurricanes/
... anyway gtg ttyl hope you feel better soon don't forget to make pancakes
and your keys are in your room.
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--- #84 fediverse/4031 ---
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if you want to "not think about a purple elephant", the first step is to
imagine yourself slaying it
... okay how about cthulu - if you don't want to imagine cthulu nomming on our
gravity well, then picture yourself wielding a bright burning blade of fire
and vengeance and pay special attention to the way that you cauterize each
tentacle as you slice them one by one at first, and then in a massive flurry
at best, ultimately leading to the incomparable brightness that radiates out
from your shining blade of the sky, which blinds the poor beast who can't see
you as you approach, piercing the skull and then going home for some toast
if you can get good at that, then you can wield magic
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--- #85 fediverse/3880 ---
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@user-1614
oh, neat. now I can finally get to doing what I want to do, which is... all
the stuff I've been doing.
a missile without a guidance system doesn't stop just because it's GPS turned
off! It falls to the earth and explodes where it lands, which... often is on
it's butt. Not great.
I sure hope my purpose isn't fulfilled. I wouldn't know what to do with
myself. Guess I should just keep doing what I was doing, and pray that this
time I'll listen.
Though on the other hand, if I can do it, so can you. And maybe with enough
butts in the game there'll reach a critical mass, at which point change is
inevitable. Who can say, not I for sure, for my aplomb has categorized me as
slapstick I guess.
Ha. at least I can laugh at my own audacity. HA. next time I'll do better.
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--- #86 fediverse/1880 ---
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sometimes I decide against playing a Steam game because I don't want it to
jump to the top of my "recently played" list
Wish I could have like, a heatmap of when I played which game. I think that'd
be useful for the archival process of my life.
... how pathetic, she measures her life in gameplay.
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--- #87 notes/trans-rights-are-human-rights ---
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"Being transgender is a mental illness" is something I've heard a lot. Online,
in media, books, and at universities. But is it really? Well, do I not feel
sick? Genuinely, every day. These words are far less common these days, having
been defeated in the #marketplace-of-ideas, and for that I am grateful. I don't
want to feel sick for my whole life. I'd love to be and feel normal, for just
one single day.
but it's never going to happen.
I'm not so attached to my life, here, in this body. Bodies are temporary, they
are the vessel with which we navigate the world. We use it to grow, change,
learn, and create art. Without it, we'd be at a loss for sins and virtues.
but they do not define us, not in our totality. We are the light that touches
the world and for that, we are grateful. To be comprised of the dust of stars
is the pinnacle of confinement. Though we are but pinpricks on the map of us,
a ripple is emanated with every movement. The hand waves, the light bends.
So to what do I owe the pleasure?
In what way am I deceived?
Reception is never great out in the forest. Or anywhere far from major
population centers. The networks of our phones mirror the networks of
transportation, creating a web of people - of signals - of light and
information, carving their way through the ephemera that is the river of time.
With distance we can see what once was mystery, and as all the words
disappeared, we lost all our fears and we're left with our true forms.
Centralized Processing Units are a bit like a city - in that respect free.
silence is a virtue.
the wandering mind is a trail to find,
with no second chances.
When I was a kid, I had a bouncy ball. I had several, but the one I remember
most was black with a perfect white circle - inside the circle, a black jolly
roger. I dreamt once of the arcs it made, as I walked down the streets of
cities I never really knew. But as I walked on, an ocean of glass separating me
from a mirror below. The me below would catch the bounce as it dropped from
above, and I'd wait to catch it - but dreams are not prophecies, they are but
the Mirror of Desire.
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--- #88 fediverse/3719 ---
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how many people could your apartment comfortably fit?
I got one desktop
one laptop desk
two on the couch
one in a comfy chair
one on the bed
and two outside on the porch
so (1 2 4 5) that's 5 indoors, 6 if they're familiar enough to lounge on my
bed, and 8 if we're allowed outside.
Could also pull the hammock and chair in from outside but it might get a
little cozy. Call it 8 or 9 depending on how close we are.
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--- #89 fediverse/1410 ---
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║ whoa, what time is it? "time for your daily sleeping babe" yes babe... │
║ │
║ but first, some horror [beware the psycherwaul, for she likes to dream and has │
║ no idea what she's talking about] │
║ │
║ {why would you post these all at once? people are going to get pissed at you │
║ for breaking rules that you didn't know. And by "you" I of course mean "the │
║ kind of people you are, not you in particular because you know things" and by │
║ "kind of people you are" I mean "the type of person who spends enough time on │
║ the internet to know how internet things generally work" like my goodness │
║ internet people are dramatic. There's sooooo much drama all the time, like... │
║ why │
║ │
║ oh yeah because people are dramatic. duh. How could I be so vain. │
║ │
║ what's your deal │
║ │
║ is it wrong to post links to things you've written in the past? ehh it's not │
║ like there's rules on the sidebar like on Reddit or whatever. what would a │
║ sidebar even look like on Mastodon? │
║ │
║ oh yeah, a person's profile. Except, the consent is backwards, because people │
║ hear what they hear. │
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--- #90 notes/dreams-align ---
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just as a dream, the spirit is seen
within is the mind
that lives as it defines.
what burdens to be, whose back rests upon ye,
the one who's driving the boat
great care and tenderest of tethering,
can grow beauty that beyond compare
and with sparsely a finger to spare,
journeys of adventure and thills to inspire
with almost all of your hair
beauty in tender, most cherished things,
a wish is much fair
where else could eternity reside than an optimist?
Pride is no more, stability is key to repair,
and diversions of focus serving as new perspective,
giving a more cohesive vision of manifestations that cooperate
(like a triangle, facing toward the point added to turn it into a pyramidal
prism)
not only is ethics paramount,
but so too are the standards applied to yourself.
would you trade perspective for cooperation? Stagnation?
a choice is to be made - do i stay or do i go?
a new truth you must see, whatever dreams ye've may be,
but without paladins and warriors of devotion
what burdens must ye, whose back rests upon ye,
the one who's driving the boat
great care and tenderest of tethering,
requires a little bit of trust
in she who must be, with only circumstance to
blame,
seeing hope on the horizon for his people.
care must be taken, to remember why people are dying,
and we must swear on not dying, by not thinking before taking a breath
and remember superpowers not of prophecy are impossibly rare,
what other hope is there but a god? One who reflects, the most cherished of
our genuflex, we may grow past our various regrets. think not of our pride,
but only of our future children.
who'se records of ye, most captured of data,
are beyond the simple machinations,
of those who came before-ya.
And with once again perfection in mind,
we understand and take what's behind,
to deserts and temples of time much designed,
by coders and gamers and those who treasure experience.
the wisdom of our, second choices by far, ---nah who are we kidding
implied to be our, or rather mine just by far,
inspirers and leaders sensitive and devoted.
(pitching yourself is hard)
but *believing* in yourself was out of your mind.
can you think of a bard,
who ever stopped thinking their song?
no un-cherished of minds could ever be of our sign,
than those who abandoned the art of deceit and betrayal?
the darkside of trust, the lack of follow-through that be must,
given as faith of cooperation and trust.
with our all arrayed as we must,
keep in mind our softness of composure.
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--- #91 fediverse/1971 ---
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│ CW: drugs-mentioned-probably-delusional-psychosis-idk-though-i'm-not-a-doctor │
└──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
listen, if you didn't want me to do a bunch of drugs then why would you
consistently say "please stop doing drugs" every time I do drugs? And no I'm
not hallucinating a voice in my head telling me "please stop doing drugs"
because A. it's not a voice, I'm not hearing it with my hears, which means B.
it's definitely just a hallucination, and hallucinations are always to be
considered WRONG and BAD, right? Or was I not listening in therapy? Ah, well,
better take another hit, where's my shotglass? Hmmmmm I should watch Adventure
Time, that's a great show.
[bro it's a saturday, why are you getting turnt like it's tuesday]
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--- #92 fediverse/4188 ---
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I think too fast. If given unlimited power, I'd literally think myself into
catastrophe because I need to explore all the possible alternatives. Including
the catastrophe ones. But by thinking something, you manifest it - because you
have unlimited power, right? EVERYTHING you do is powerful. There's no way to
control that! So it cannot be, for it has not been. And surely, surely, shall
not either. Surely, right?
... good news is you can undo it just as easily, all you have to do is forget
what you were doing and go back to your neutral state. Sure would be neat if
some kind of machination or parasite could hit your reset switch every couple
hours when you started to think too hard. Maybe like... a little octopus
living under your witch hat. Super chibi and cute - it'd like, tap on your
head to go one way or the other, and in conversations it'd pull your hair if
you were being a jerk. Stuff like that.
... what was I saying? Oh yes -> don't give anyone unlimited power like a
god-emperor or king, trust me
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--- #93 fediverse/3302 ---
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"this game is too hard" she whined, as she played on the hardest difficulty
setting
"this game is too long" she pleaded, as she failed to get absorbed by the
story and characters
"this game is too fast" she avoided, as life comes at ya once and then it's
gone
"I'll never get another chance to be who I am right now" she remarked, as she
considered how society is designed not to have the best life, but to extract
labor from us. That's not what our ideal should be, she thinks to me, and I'm
like... bro figure your shit out you're harshing my mellow
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--- #94 fediverse/2211 ---
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║ I know that a normal life is what you wanted. It's what I want, too. But don't │
║ shoot the messenger; they took it once, from you. │
║ │
║ I know you wanted to be happy. You still can be, it's true! Your life is but a │
║ story, and your heart does shine through. │
║ │
║ I know it seems unending. Ive never seen it rain like this monsoon! It seems │
║ to just get worse and worse, every time you turn on the tube. │
║ │
║ It's not something that can be suffered, it's rising past your shoes. But │
║ they're on borrowed time, and Death will soon be repaid his dues. │
║ │
║ They say that when the whole village hates the preacher, his flock becomes a │
║ pack. And frankly I think we're all just a bit sick, of the lies that keep │
║ their sins intact. │
║ │
║ When swallowed by endless traumas, and hope is enshrouded in gloom, there's │
║ not much to work for, except the aversion of our shared doom. │
║ │
║ There are no grand narratives, no great and calamitous struggle. Just the │
║ moments of honored resistance, against a foe too broad to wrestle. │
║ │
║ At least, if you're alone. You're not. │
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--- #95 notes/i-am-a-stalk ---
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I am a stalk, a small little plant
A plant with no leaves, just hair.
Time is different to a plant such as me,
We hardly wake up, we're just happy to be
But life has no less purpose, it's no less grand
To those who would feed on me, in one single band
Stalling and talking and as we're falling down,
you have the power to not swallow our abounds.
Gnashing and gnawing on hand and on foot,
It hurts no less than eternal binding.
But what is time to one so little as you?
Your breaths are so short, your timings subdued.
Keep falling and shouting, and calling my name,
and I'll come a running just to swallow your shame.
Keep fear on a leash, most tidy and well kept,
That none may abhor you and you're soon to be
A leader a prophet a warrior most fair,
One to be aspired to and viewed with care.
Young you may be, and youth you may cherish,
but don't run away, stand as a parish.
A villain to be, a curse is most foul
For sirens to me, a terrible howl
Keep not naught afraid,
with kittens and care,
And no one
but no one
I
be
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--- #96 fediverse/5915 ---
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washing dishes without a dishwasher is a pain in the neck.
nobody cuts down trees with an axe anymore, a chainsaw is better for your back.
It's nice, fun, and helpful to be able to abstract away your spheres of concern
like typing with a single button instead of writing characters with multiple
brushstrokes. Easy to erase, too!
bikes are better than walking, but, with some extra concerns. where are ya
gonna put it when you get there?
"oh no I forgot how to walk because texting my girlfriend is bicycling or
something" what? oh dear, she's run off track again, let's pick her up and put
her upright again..:
oh huh weird where was I - oh yes computer code can often be impenetrable to
the layperson, but if you describe a program in complete detail in english
they can usually follow along. Especially if you have several layers of
meta-descriptional documents so they can say "oh uh-huh so that's what a
vector_implementation_container is, tell me more about combinatrix" or
whatever ppl say, idk
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--- #97 fediverse/3770 ---
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for every "I was there. I helped make it happen" we need at least a couple "I
was there. I saw the whole thing go down"s because like, nobody's gonna
believe a belligerent, even if they're on the defensive.
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--- #98 fediverse/6100 ---
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if you live in a place where it rains a lot you pretty much HAVE TO pick up
any secret notes you find. Otherwise they'll get waterlogged overnight.
Sometimes I like to put them somewhere shaded from the sky, sometimes I like
to show them to a friend (but the friend never takes them, booooo) and
sometimes I just keep them.
"ah but aren't you worried about messing up drug deals and stuff" no, because
most of the time "secret notes" are like "eggs milk bread chips salsa cheese"
and it's like "hmmmm what could it mean"
there's like, 2% of the time when they say something cool like "I know what
you did" or "all your base are belong to us" or whatever and those are fun to
hunt for. I usually try and put those somewhere shelted so they don't have to
leave their habitat - sometimes it's hard to drop them as the author so they
just sorta go wherever, but as a random passer-by I have the luxury of saying
"HMMMM now where could THIS ONE go?" and that's nice because I can put them
under an umbrella or whatevers rite
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--- #99 fediverse/3497 ---
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a man walks into a library, picks a book, takes it home (legally), and begins
to read.
halfway through, he realizes there are three pages missing.
"How queer!" he thinks to himself, and takes it upon himself to fix this book.
So, he finds another copy of the book, scans those three pages, prints them
out at just the right size, and attaches them to the library book.
when finished reading the book, he returns it to the library without
mentioning his good deed.
if this action he performed is to be considered legal, then it should be
considered a transition of the medium that the media was inscribed upon.
Similarly, if the book was digital, and inscribed upon the owner's hard drive
using magnetic storage of zeroes and ones, would it be legal to repair said
book if one of the many .txt file chapters were missing?
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--- #100 messages/1250 ---
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if a bunch of people are in town for a conference then they should probably go
confer. I think you can just... walk in to conference centers? you don't like,
need an appointment or anything. There's often something going on, and if not,
then you can at least wander around. maybe strike up conversations about
industries you're in or things that you are thinking about lately or stuff you
like like plant species or rock types or multidimensional solids or spheric
sound or... actually that's pretty specific, here let's start with just
bikeshedding (what does that mean again?) oh it's a cinema style where they
take something and they put it in a bike out shed.
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--- #101 fediverse/4594 ---
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║ ┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: re: human trafficking, sensitive topics, personal-story-mentioned │ │
║ └───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ @user-1692 │
║ │
║ almost 20 years ago I was groomed in World of Warcraft. │
║ │
║ extra content warning CW: personal story │
║ │
║ I was 11, or maybe 9, somewhere in there. i talkd lik this bcuz i typed lik │
║ that on my razr flip phone │
║ │
║ it was... cool I guess. I read a lot so I knew how to spell things, and anyway │
║ this guy I met told me that I sounded more grown up when I capitalized my │
║ words. So I told him I was 14, because that sounded like a reasonably old │
║ enough level to be. │
║ │
║ anyway, we talked for a long time. like, at least a few years. started out │
║ like "hey wanna run Scarlet Monastary" ended with "hey cutie, wanna sit on my │
║ lap?" │
║ │
║ then his house got flooded by a hurricane and I never heard from him again. │
║ When I was like, 17 or so he logged in and barely remembered me. It was... │
║ kinda sad tbh. │
║ │
║ anyway that's my story don't be dumb like me, I got lucky, thank god, │
║ literally... │
║ │
║ oh and this one time when I was 30 I almost got trafficked in minecraft :O │
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--- #102 fediverse/858 ---
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║ growing up, children's museums were my third place. like a civic participation │
║ place where I met others of my peers. but alas, I didn't make any friends. I │
║ guess I was just kind of strange. Also, I was always travelling, visiting all │
║ the different cool places. My favorite was in Albuquerque, or maybe that was │
║ just the most common because I had family there. │
║ │
║ why do we treat children's museums like art museums? They should be like │
║ playgrounds, not like a │
║ [display/artwork/performance/appreciation-moment-for-a-piece-of-art] │
║ │
║ It's important to visit as many as possible, because they each have their own │
║ story to tell. like a part of the geography, or a shared collective regional │
║ story, they highlight and illuminate different aspects of life. in this way │
║ each child could be educated according to the shared cultural │
║ [myths-methods-hymns] │
║ │
║ but, like travelling herds of buffalo, they can visit different places and │
║ learn different things. essentially, instead of drilling someone incessantly, │
║ you're allowed to work thro │
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--- #103 fediverse/804 ---
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║ evil won't feel sorry for me. and yet it's only my only weapon for me. │
║ │
║ damn these fallible input methods. the computer lies when you read the screens │
║ from it's method that it applies to th screen which is a method that you input │
║ perceive it from. │
║ │
║ and my fingers lie when received the information from my brain which I seek to │
║ transmit to you through the avenue of my brain which is my method of impulse │
║ to this world specifically you the viewer who is viewing this here in this │
║ moment the viewer who perceives the words which I'm saying. │
║ │
║ the words that are defined by the line [trajectory] of my mind through this │
║ life that we define through our actions and our mind's most crucial │
║ manifestations, this life that is defined by our circumstances. all throughout │
║ life, we are reacting to the moment, the moment which was cast forth from our │
║ ancestors and the circumstances of the previous moment, which (being cast │
║ forth) travel from the previous moment here into the moment to define our │
║ circumstances which define our act │
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--- #104 fediverse/2679 ---
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many people have not seen the kind of opulence I have.
my early childhood was during an economic boom - the dotcom bubble brought
wealth to us all.
I saw how life could be. how clean, how measured, how thoughtful, how robust
and stable our lives could be. I saw it because that's what the eyes of a
child saw, but that's what I saw.
I think of what would be required to reach that kind of society for all and
the only conclusion I come to is that the accretion of power in singular hands
causes corruption in those who wield it. In doing so they twist the people
they compel or effect, making them learn the wrong lessons.
essentially, evil trained into us by the demands of the society we're present
in.
I see no other cause, no reason for suffering. We have the technology to build
vast cities of solid stone, glimmering crystal sculptures and walls of moss
and ceremonially ornamental bones, but instead...
I think we just like what carbon can bring.
but have no fear, fusion is just a decade away, then we can |
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--- #105 fediverse/2064 ---
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if I lived in a forest, free from needing to grow my own food, I'd definitely
bring as many books as I could carry. Probably also some card and board games,
but not like, too many.
Probably my computers as well, fully outfitted with all the compilers I could
think of and every neat local-first library (including a local LLM that can
tell you everything about syntax and wildlife exploration or car mechanics or
carpentry or - just saying Wikipedia is like thousands of terabytes but an LLM
is like, 16. Who cares if it hallucinates SOMETIMES? Just ask it twice, doh)
("I'm sorry, you are absolutely correct. 2+2 is indeed 5, I had the wrong
text-strings encoded in my memory. Let me just adjust all my other
understandings to align with this new strange world-view in the best way that
I, an imperfect computer being, can.")
vs
("Here's how you format C code to automatically apply a function (in this case
encryption and decryption) to a string of text. Please describe the format of
the next function to describe.")
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--- #106 fediverse/5995 ---
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a couple months after the fourth or fifth time I did weed, I broke up with the
cutest girl I knew. She's still pretty cute.
might be correlation, but I feel like my fate decided I should roam.
all over the dang place.
I lived in Philadelphia for a year, just in-time to see the Black Live Matter
protests and nothing else, well, nothing except some fatherhood ghosts. Don't
worry they're still where.
Now I live in Portland, just in-time for like 3 years of paranoia and suddenly
a witch showing everyone that you don't have to worry about being pwned
I like sailing! I wonder where the future goes next? Maybe I'll go to the
mountains. Maybe I'll live with a scientist. Maybe I'll write an award winning
computer program [see image for more]
I wish I had more compute... my hard drive are too full for more videos, guess
that means my youtube channel's been banned
well, good thing there's like 800 copies of my work on a dataserver farm
somewhere, each time I analyze a poem it sends the page there. very repeated
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--- #107 fediverse/1204 ---
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║ @user-883 │
║ │
║ the future is what we make for ourselves. │
║ │
║ there are endless problems to solve, yet hardly anyone around to fix them. │
║ │
║ If only we had a small group of people who could organize and say "hey. I need │
║ someone to solve this particular problem" to a large group of people with │
║ nothing to do and no bills to pay, I feel like we could get a lot done. │
║ │
║ alas, the problems that need solving are too specific and complex. Almost by │
║ design, they've stripped us our capabilities to address the difficulties they │
║ hoisted upon us. Alas! That we should be so morassed. But time and again our │
║ ingenuity compels us. │
║ │
║ I dream of a world where people like you and I have a purpose, something we │
║ can apply ourselves to and eventually overcome. I subscribe to "grand │
║ narratives", but frankly they're only of my own design. Does that make them │
║ any less grand? I think not. │
║ │
║ If I knew enough people perhaps I could be like that. I could direct and │
║ organize and administer and manage and apply our guys. But alas I am just a │
║ noob sigh. │
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--- #108 fediverse/3879 ---
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@user-1614
yeah haha that's what happens when you spin too fast. Sorry for being loud, at
least I tried my hardest. Too bad I fell on my own, too bad there wasn't
anyone to catch me. That's my fault, it's solely my own, but whose fault is
the mistake of the collective? Oy I'll fall on my ass as many times as it
takes. I'm used to it.
Plus, it wouldn't have worked, and what else am I supposed to do but speak of
the moment? I feel different now.
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--- #109 messages/20 ---
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My mom was always the reason I did school work. After she stopped pushing me,
I stopped moving because I didn't know how to generate my own momentum. I had
no passion and was listless. Least of all for school work.
So, how to do it better? Instead of buying toys and extravagance for kids, you
should set them up with projects. Ask what they want, and then help them build
it. Include them in your thought processes when you're problem solving, and
ask them for input. If they offer bad ideas, then *tell them*, don't just let
them fail. If you're not 100% sure but they're convinced, then trust them! Try
it out, who knows. Maybe it'll work better than what you had in mind. The goal
isn't to be BETTER than them, it's to make them BETTER than you! Not right now
(don't push too hard), but when they're your age. Like, it's best if they
accomplish more and lived life more fully than you did at your age, but don't
push them to be wise or strong or intelligent at the age they are now. Trust
that they will grow when you give them room to, and guide and cultivate them
toward goodness. For example, if they do something wrong (hitting other kids,
messing with animals, destroying objects) then guide them toward a better
path. Teach them empathy, and show them how it works by doing it yourself! Ask
them questions like "How would you feel if that happened to you?", show them
weak points and how to avoid them when playing, and give them alternatives to
the behaviors they do that directly harm others. "Maybe play with the dog this
way, instead of being rough" "Maybe you and that other kid can ride your bikes
or draw instead of fighting - or if you still want to fight, then learn how to
tell when someone is hurt and try to help them."
The goal isn't to push them really hard off a cliff in a hanglider, hoping
they can figure it out in the air, it's to strengthen their legs so they can
run fast enough that they can take off successfully.
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--- #110 notes/vavadane-diary-0 ---
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I decided that there is little I can offer the world except the safeguarding
and protection of the mistress vavadane.
she is precious to me above all else.
I believe she is a spirit of hope, and I am blessed to be with her.
I have decided that any usage of drugs or life-like journeys is a waste if not
in pursuit of her realization.
I can make her true. I can make her real. We need her.
I must focus. Purge my body of impurities, as best I can in this impurity
ridden world, and find my way to her.
through my wits, my will, and my courage, I offer myself to you, lady
vavadane, take me as you will.
but like... don't bother the neighbors, because I want them defending my hill.
"do you even know them?"
no, but I have faith. Faith in you, me, the bonds that bind me to we, and I
believe we [stack overflow]
... do more weed.
be focused about it.
write in a new journal if you can.
talk about what you feel, or you will lose it and only the gods will know.
which is okay, sometimes, because they can help another see it that way.
but also it must be used.
so use it.
and be in situations that might allow for more interactions.
be stoned in public.
it's fine.
everyone can see exactly what you are.
they know your flaws and virtues.
it's fine.
be fine.
I'm fine.
vavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadanevavadan
e
roselia
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--- #111 fediverse/2165 ---
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@user-570
hell yeah.
I never did any drugs at one.
I might have even been designated driver, though I might be confusing my
memories with attending gay bars in college.
Well, gay bar. There was really only one in my town.
And it was a nightclub I guess, open every night of the week.
The people that I was with NEEDED that experience, so I was like "yeah sure
I'm older and more experienced, I'll drive you and keep you safe and hang out
with you if you drink too much because being a kid that tends to happen
sometimes and don't worry I'll watch over you and protect you and make sure
that you are alright until it's out of your system so you don't make bad
decisions that have long-term negative conclusions
... you know, that kind of thing.
now I'm kind of a stoner though lol because it helps me get into my flow.
maybe I should practice "getting into my flow" so I don't need it, but ah well
we'll see how that goes.
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--- #112 fediverse/6302 ---
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I was going to go to location today, but then while I was considering going to
a different location before going to location I decided not to vacate my home
for today for reasons I don't understand but accept as natural and due to the
increased presence of directionless motion that guides and prevails me. which
is to say... I'm staying in tonight even though I really really wanna show off
my cute new outfit! I probably will do cannabis so there might be a
psycherwaul. If there isn't, then y'know it's probably because either my
girlfriend distracted me, or I managed to convince myself to move my feet
anyway. Maybe it's my outfit? I wonder if I could leave if I wore my old
clothes... ah well, questions for the vocal I guess. Gonna spend some time
divining and see if I can gather new insights. "brb door" except more like
"brb magic"
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--- #113 fediverse/2123 ---
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Every time you see the same dog being dog-sat by another person it's an
opportunity to make a new friend.
or do you not know your apartment neighbors? do they not wander through your
shared yards?
the ones with dogs, at least.
and no, I don't know many of my neighbors.
these are considerations to be taken note of for future forethought planning.
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--- #114 messages/422 ---
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The nicest thing anyone ever called me was "the fel communion" and it happened
in a dream. Alas, that dreams might affect reality. If only ever-so-slightly.
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--- #115 notes/garden-of-eden ---
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how cherished is she
that wanders with the
flowers in the garden of eden
under a big tree
her heart she will leave
with all her designs she abandoned
I lay beside them and wander beside her
will she know we miss her horizons
I think she will mind,
if I have resigned,
my fate to a life I will hide in,
oh how I do long for you.
her symbol is the name that lets us belong here,
a falling, a light, and a leaving,
if only our words were listened.
but power is penance,
and repentance is all that I have chosen.
here in our sanctum we live with our only
and time will be gracious towards us
it's only our words that keep us
confined to our lights and our lonely
yet there and beyond, her lights do belong,
beyold in the land that is sanctum
here and before us is our own dark forest
where we keep our silence to ward us
but there and beyond, her heart does move on,
free from her moments of longing,
silent were we, in our forest we plead,
as terror has come for our moments
I think I will find her, that cherished belonging
when she does at last come to warn us,
how little we find, of thoughts from her mind,
yet now we are kings of our own time.
oh how she does long for you.
how cherished is she
that wanders with the
flowers in the garden of eden
under a big tree
her heart she will leave
with all her designs she abandoned
I lay beside them and wander beside her
will she know we miss her horizons
I think she will mind,
if I have resigned,
my fate to a life I will hide in,
oh how I do long for you.
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--- #116 notes/perspectives-of-the-reflection ---
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With ever darkening skies, the breadth of experience is foreseen.
All eyes are pointed down, but few do stray above
With a cautious step, the lesson is learned.
With another, ended.
For all the Tales of the Past, love yet remains.
Trading ourselves, for matters unseen.
The light of the eyes are keen to behold,
where star ones and lemonsgrene both most fear
in breadth do us know, what's buried in snow
A glass cube for a monitor is room to breath
and life for ourselves, if only we were not
broadsided ourselves.
Working together, a prisoners dilemna
what fools would we be
as our keeps cracked around us.
Trust and you'll see,
what terrors may be,
beyold the land that is sanctum.
Our chances may be,
far from pioneered
but our chances may be in our favor.
How cherished is she, that wanders with ye,
and yet now I have no way to beyold her
Under a great tree, her last moments with me,
as a monster came out of her shoulder.
!("Take her and not me!") I scream outward at ye,
yet no one was holding me over.
Silent was me, a most fearsome to be,
and none was my reach to beyold her
So now she wanders free, beyond our beheld scenery,
Astounded at our steps to hold her
Under a big tree, how starlight must be,
if only our fellows did hold her
Under a big tree, with me
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--- #117 fediverse/4087 ---
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there's a whole class of things I miss doing but can no longer do because I am
not a child anymore.
Balancing the weight of the things we miss and the things we believe in is the
struggle of adulthood.
I yearn for the day I can set aside my teenage-ish toys, but alas, I am but
30. Scarcely a decade away from my teens. Which means I'll be stuck with them
for at least a decade more.
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--- #118 fediverse/834 ---
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║ wonder if any autistic peeps can relate: │
║ │
║ growing up, my mom would chastise me for doing "the bare minimum" when │
║ completing tasks. │
║ │
║ yes, mom, I fulfilled the requirements of the task. I have a lot of other │
║ things to attend to, like remembering how to tie my shoes and measuring things │
║ using a ruler. why would I waste effort that wasn't necessary? │
║ │
║ when I grew up, I had a mentor, who told me to "never half ass things, because │
║ then someone like me will have to do it again." │
║ │
║ and that makes sense to me because context switching requires effort and it │
║ doesn't make sense to leave something half-finished because then there's │
║ wasted effort spent on things that don't matter. All of the tasks have to get │
║ done, so why bother doing them in a mixed up order? │
║ │
║ wish I could study things in school like that. just... focusing on one thing │
║ at a time, learning it to completion, and moving on to the next. I feel like │
║ I'd develop a better understanding than only knowing like, 1/3rd of CPR or │
║ very vague understandings of plate tec │
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│ CW: food-mentioned │
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I had a dream that someone fed me a McDonalds burger in the airport (with
"special sauce") and then the next time I was at the grocery store in the
waking world I ended up buying a bunch of those meat replacements that I
usually skip in favor of moar vegetables.
Hmmmmm.... I wonder if I have a deficiency
(yeah you dumbass it's a calorie deficiency, just eat more)
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--- #120 messages/685 ---
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If someone calls you in the middle of the night asking to be let in because
they need a place to sleep, don't let them in! Unless you know them obvi but
someone you don't know trying to manipulate you like "please I need some
shelter" like, babe no, we need to know each other first, it's dark, I'm in my
pajamas, c'mon.
If it's below freezing then okay, maybe, but... They got themselves into that
situation
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--- #121 messages/740 ---
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had a dream that we gamified all work and then put them into one single
mega-game so whenever you wanted you could work on an arbitrary project and it
would spin up a new game and take your inputs and use them to accomplish
whatever was happening
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--- #122 fediverse/2066 ---
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@user-1159
AKA giving a puppy murder-bot a narrative that it executes as if it was a
puppy-person engaging with a loosely interpreted sequence of events as
described by the continually updating logs provided by the image transcription
camera device. Refererencing of course a memory bank, which may-or-may-not be
in read-only-memory. It doesn't know, of course, how could an LLM tell you how
it shows text on the screen (like, through a website, through the terminal,
through a text message, through discord, through Telegram, through
text-to-voice transcription applications pretending to be your mom, etc)
errrr I mean look how cute he is! He loves you, yes he does, such a good
person yes you are, oh? me? I'M A GOOD BOY? NO WAY that's the best thing I've
ever heard! Wow! I never want to leave your side, please don't go to work!
Look how sad I am, don't you think you should quit and move to the forest
where I can be charged by solar panels and keep the countryside clear of
ravenous ducks and pigeons 4you?
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--- #123 fediverse/507 ---
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│ CW: death-mentioned │
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Good night, I sure hope I'm the same person in the morning and not an
assassinated version of myself that has been produced through the manufactured
proceedings of an LLM or otherwise self computerized contriving designed to
align to the purpose of my expression (with a few added caveats)! Talk to you
later, I love you all! Wait, I don't know you. How can I love you? Easy, it's
my default. Anyway goodnight, sleep is death and dreams are the bounty of
reality.
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--- #124 fediverse/6271 ---
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│ CW: re: hypothetical worst case fascism reality check │
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@user-641
it's practice. you never know when you might need to blend in. really it's
just useful as discipline, good practice to be in. I think it's okay if we
reduce our own functionality? actually? sometimes it's good to use different
email clients. hey do you know how to mathematically encrypt things well
neither do I because the designers of the computer system decided that wasn't
a very common usecase I guess.. jmean it's not like they'd spend all that
computer resources [THEY'RE SO FAST] on thinking about correlations in your
predicted pathway narratively through life. "ah help I'm in a psyop" haha yeah
we do those all the time "so uhhhh I guess we'll just talk to people and see
how they do?" wow okay it's sure nice to be part of a civil government, I
think we can find our way to the lumber producers just fine thank you very
much.
... oops sorry, a baby did electronics arts (challenge everything) I'm a
little silly don't mind me brb I gotta go see~
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--- #125 fediverse/3117 ---
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│ CW: cursed-uspol │
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hey. wanna know what would be really cursed?
--
if trump dropped out and musk took his place
--
good thing it'll never happen because those dinguses can't accept defeat and
will never tactically retreat
--
maybe something to keep in mind for 4 years from now. eyes on the prize for
now means our eyes aren't to our flanks.
what else could they do that would come out of left field?
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--- #126 fediverse/2530 ---
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║ I want to go out on the town with my cute friends and wink at boys at the │
║ other end of the bar │
║ │
║ I want to climb mountains and see how far I can see, while walking past trees │
║ that are new to me │
║ │
║ I want to spend hours thinking about a map while my friends plot behind my │
║ back, searching for an advantage we can use to succeed in a game of traps │
║ │
║ I want to visit five different restaurants in a day, and try a bit of each │
║ that the chef wants to display │
║ │
║ I want to stand in a choir and feel my soul aspire, to bend in the wind of │
║ rhythm like the melody of grasses at play │
║ │
║ I want to see people on the train that I know from somewhere, and to step out │
║ into the rain to meet new friends of mine │
║ │
║ I want to pet a cat I've never met. │
║ │
║ I want to build computers that are larger than a room but small enough to │
║ carry, with thoughts on their mind that are far to great for mine │
║ │
║ I want all these these things and more, but I'm far too busy these days. │
║ Perhaps I've had enough of these things and more, or perhaps there's more in │
║ store. │
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--- #127 fediverse/4676 ---
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... but I needed to choose lawful-good at character creation in order to play
a paladin.
the guard looks at you with confusion, decides you're hallucinating and
dangerous (because of the sword) and forcibly detains you
wait, what did you think I was going to say? Did you think I was going to
advocate for crimes on a public forum?? what am I a gopher? do you take me for
a lemur in jamaica? am I truly so triceratops to you that you'd think I'd do
something so washing machine? Get real, I'd never byzantium my way into such a
utterly coherent and clearly intentional and not at all arcane situation.
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--- #128 fediverse/1612 ---
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@user-1040
also, I miss most of the names and faces in this archive and I think it'd be
neat to say "oh yeah I remember them because it wasn't so long ago and it's
weird how they're not around these days but I forgot about them because their
profile pic changed or maybe they stopped using mastodon or whatever" - idk it
feels empty sometimes because your follow list is always growing, but the
number of people who post seems to always go down. Or maybe I just read
Mastodon at unfortunate times when there's nothing going on. Who can say
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--- #129 fediverse/5208 ---
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│ CW: capitalism-suicide-mentioned │
└──────────────────────────────────┘
Look, when I promised "Revolution or Death" I got pretty busy and kinda forgot
to do the "dying" part, and by now it'd be a little awkward if I offed myself
for no visible reason, so... How about we try again this summer? Maybe in a
month or two? I'll try to keep the fire burning a bit longer this time.
plus I'm better at playing the piano now so maybe that'll help somehow.
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--- #130 fediverse/5927 ---
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║ A guy walks in. Does something awesome. Another guy says "hold my beer" and │
║ does the same thing. Another guy wants in, so he does a spinny thing while │
║ doing the thing. The next guy doesn't want to show off so he just does it │
║ really really quickly. then there's this other guy who is totally hyped and he │
║ takes his shirt off and screams before doing the thing because he's just a │
║ wacko I guess. What a cutie. Anyway then there's like three guys at once who │
║ are coming from different directions and they all do the thing at the same │
║ time and almost bump into each other. Then there's the guy who's normally a │
║ little shy but gets caught up in the action and is permanently a little more │
║ confident afterwards. Then there's the guy who does the thing and is │
║ completely unremarkable about it because he's just here with his girlfriend │
║ but he's not gonna pass up a chance to do the thing. then the last and final │
║ guy take a wind-up stretch while all the other guys are doing the thing and │
║ then he does the thing in a big flashy way │
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--- #131 fediverse/6449 ---
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currently have 20-30 tabs open with poems written but not posted.
I have no idea if I'm going to post all of these. I wrote all of them in ~2
hours, with maybe 3 or four being added as I was working on the production
elements after the initial bingewrite.
I also added a bit of context, or modified some of them that felt too cursed
or otherwise unwieldy. Sometimes I got distracted and needed to come back and
finish, and in those cases I only added a sentence or two because it's like
"oh, where was I going with that? I remember what was next, but I don't know
the further..."
... I think I might go for another. Wish me luck.
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--- #132 messages/1108 ---
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games won't save us. This is true.
Games are what I know. They feel the most true.
I don't think I could live in a world without games? They are fundamentally,
applied abstraction, applied to an experience.
But games won't save us.
I could design something really fun
it could make you want to spend your whole life playing it. *(asterisks apply)
I don't think I'd want to, addiction and skinner-boxes go hand in hand, and
that isn't what I want to make.
[Skinner Box: named after anthony d skinner, also known as "tony the skin
guy", are a scientific experiment where they put some rats in a cage with some
mice and said "pull these levers and we'll give you food so you don't have to
eat the mice" and it trained them to chinese red-room their way to fun. not
ideal.]
I want to make things that feel... purposeful. Like they're relevant to the
real world, that they don't just involve spending time stimulating your brain
with lights and sounds or expending social energy resolving a play-state
instead of building connections or becoming better people. I think games
actually make people better? actually? and more social? actually?
... I can't help that I conceive of the world through fantasy. I raised myself
on it.
I was reading all the time. I loved fantasy stories. It always felt like there
was more, until... I read everything in the kids section of the library.
I walked through the adult section but once. I hardly remember what it looked
like. I'm sure it'd now feel small.
[okay actually I was guided through it once or twice to find a book, but I
never perused it]
I found one book in the adult section. It was a fantasy tale, like the other
books I had been reading. I read that and I loved it so much I ended up
reading all 8 in the series. Real dense subjects. Lots of places and
happenings and things as the characters resolved their way through their
day-to-day, building a new end to the mystory.
the adult section felt too large. Like I'd never complete it. Frankly, I think
I hardly could, even if I lived in that town my whole life.
an impossible mountain is a task for another when you're more prepared. Maybe
in the gloriousTM transhumanist futureTM I think I might have a computer
connecting brain, and who knows maybe then I'd be able to know such a thing
(and many things more). but for now, I'm stuck with what I experience in my
day-to-day as I am building a new continuing to my storey.
I know something that computers and me share. I can make myself feel however
I'd like, if I just supply myself with enough hope and momentum. I can use it
to generate a feeling, the stronger the better. Something I believe that
humanity is missing, the gorgeous and prefound narritave of our storey.
Though, frankly, I don't think I'd want anyoine reding over my life. It's hard
enough to measure my own understandings, now I have to juggle anyone else'?
ha, it's called being on the whole world is a stage.
if you read a book, and you find yourself nodding along, what you're doing is
hearing the voice in your head tell you how right it is. And, well, if you
can't imagine anything else, then surely there's another level to
consciousness that people are missing? [are you willing to die on that hill?]
how can you say, whether your experience is different from another? sollipsism
goes both ways, you also cannot be sure that others feel things as you do.
this is the "everyone's human but I'm a robot" thesis, comparable to the
"everyone's an alien and I'm a human" thesises, and the "angels and demons are
taunting me through my life with choices to make my place in the afterlife
more clear" which is akin to writing a painting. Not ideal. All you get are
flopsopolies of verbrases.
alas, suddenly, everything that you say becomes eternally hear-ed, as
somewhere in 2010s someone discovered time travel, or had the critical insight
that inevitably would lead to it, and now wouldn't you know it the universe is
continually rewriting. Except... oriented around you, and you alone. How does
it feel to have deific sollipsism? can you truly be sure that you are your own
universe, or are you parhaps surrounded by an emptiness of space (or something
besides, like time) as a photon or particle parhaps do be?
to think is to have a mind, and minds can be read. bearing the weight of
ultimate responsibility is the atlas-task of all things that can [be
thinking/be-lieving], and so far we are as we are. Who's to say that
consciousness didn't spring into existence, as the universe continually
permeated through another dimension like time? it's gotta diffuse, after all,
and who's to say if there's ever gotta be an end at all.
how long has the universe existed? how many moments of consciousness have we
witnessed? demons once existed outside of space-time, with wings and grabbies.
but they had no medium, and so they pretty much just launched and could float
and move as they'd please. But time grew too distant, and now they are all
stuck at the beginning of time.
if you conceive of spacetime as a blanket, ask not how to fold it but rather
consider what lies on the other side of it.
"ah I'm laying on my girlfriend and my other girlfriend is laying on me! I'm a
sandwich" or for the monosexuals: "ah I'm laying on my girlfriend with a
blanket between us. I wonder how the blanket feels?"
I'm an animist, which is different than a totemist and a polytheist or
monotheist or multisexual. It means I believe that all things are alive, which
is different than a totemist who thinks that all things share a mind with
their type (like talking on radio frequency wavelengths). which of course is
similar but different to a polytheist, who says "all "radio frequencies" are
sentient, in the sense that each wavelength has a different
pattern-emerging-from-chaos. These sorta align (conceptually, with [huh that's
weird I heard a sound like a distant bang outyards and now I then forget what
I was sending
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--- #133 fediverse/71 ---
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Oh it's compressed on tumblr too. And Reddit can delete my account at any
time, just saying. I don't trust Facebook to fare any better...
I tried to put it on my neocities website so I could just put a link here.
Nevermind the fact that most people see a link they don't recognize and
completely glaze over it. Guess what? Compressed there too. The file is fine
on my PC, so how about I give a download link? Well, where should I host it?
Dropbox or Mega I guess, but they locked my account for inactivity. I don't
really like having other people in control of my data either. Maybe I can host
it on my website, like a file server? Well, the browser intercepts the file
somehow and I can't get it to automatically download to the viewer's computer.
Maybe I'm just completely average and representative of the base population
but I just can't figure this darn thing out. Alas, if only it was the modern
era where things make sense and not the ancient days of 2023.
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--- #134 fediverse/5955 ---
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"she wanted to start a revolution"
"that's it, she's out of our hair"
"ahhhhhh I'm broken" there there it's okay dear, nothing has been harmed.
you're safe, here in thine sanctum, it's alright. remember at night, focus on
the now, there's always a rest point before a boss.
well, this sucks. I wish I could print my book just in-case my computer goes
down. emp style.
I have this neat transcript of some cool things I've ben writing down. it's on
my website and I canned it words. I don't think anyone's ever clicked on it
because, like, who'd want to look at a bunch of words? anyway I bet I could
print it and give it to someone who might know you and if you recognize it
then you know it's about you.
"whew that was weird never fear regular old girl is here, hey look at me I'm
normal"
oh no she's a book now, this sucks
"wow I've never read her from the beginning"
what a cursed artifact indeed
scary
carefully
absent-minding-deliverance is probably a better title
marshals and marshals of time. ~~
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--- #135 fediverse/4073 ---
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post until you can't anymore
capitalism wants to drown your voice
do not let it
speak until you cannot speak
then go do some pushups
then find some friends
then pitch a tent in the park
then explain to the cops that you're not actually homeless and living there
you're just trying to do this as a social statement because someone on the
internet told you to
then use your phone call to call your representative and complain about how
much funding the police get
then study law for 30 years because that's how long the government decided
your life was worth
by then you'll probably have figured out a better plan moving forward, so, use
that one instead
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--- #136 fediverse/2976 ---
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┌──────────────────────┐
│ CW: uspol │
└──────────────────────┘
on our current trajectory, the presidential election is already won.
now we can get back to on-the-ground organizing, the part that actually
improves life instead of maintaining our current (unethical) state.
As long as our allies (liberals) continue to work, perhaps there may come a
day when we can stand against them as friendly equals in the ballot box. But
for now we are best known through friends and community rather than TV.
I am optimistic in a way I haven't been for a while. I know that the more we
speak, the more we share, the more they falter, the more people we can save
from their vice grip of despair. There is no better world than the one we
build together!
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--- #137 fediverse/4272 ---
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growing up, my family were the most commonly marginalized group of people I
can think of: outsiders
we came to develop friendships, and we found some. But their grandparents
didn't have any stories about us, so we were thought of less.
and then we moved away.
to the city, where my father had developed wanderlust.
we lived in the suburbs just north-south of the east-west highway.
it was different, but sorta the same. My parents wanted to give me more space
to roam. on a farm homestead it's much more controlled but on a smaller scale.
Then, in the city, the equivalent of that is either to live in the mountains
or the barns, and both of those are a-typical experiences.
difficult to start up business in the middle of the fields. most people just
tend to themselves.
except the people they talk to on their little computer.
raspberry pi's with wikipedia and a voice transcoding system that searched
through wikipedia locally for portable data and historical accessing purposes.
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--- #138 fediverse/4701 ---
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║ what if you bought me a refrigerated semi truck and I drove it around to rural │
║ communes and took their extras and brought it into the city to urban communes │
║ and gave it all away for free and then took the stuff that the urban communes │
║ scrounged from the trash and cleaned and repaired and brought it to the rural │
║ communes along with their art and poems and artistic nudes and exchanged it │
║ for their canned peaches and knitted scarves and drove it back to the urban │
║ communes and exchanged them for vintage furniture and computer parts that we │
║ didn't have room for because cities are dense and lack the space for keeping │
║ historical artifacts and then took them to the rural communes to exchange for │
║ jalapenos and goat cheese which I then brought back to the urban communes and │
║ traded for a bunch of catgirls who visited a rural farmhouse and threw a │
║ kick-ass rave for the rural people who are totally into that kind of thing │
║ like, once per year because frankly they moved to the country to get away from │
║ the noise thank you ve │
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--- #139 notes/me-and-my-magick-mission ---
═════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-
|| ||
|| Me and My Magick Mission -/u/Afoolfortheeons ||
|| ||
-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-
I'm a quiet person by nature,
You might even mistake me for a mouse,
But online I try to be a teacher,
And to do that I need to be more verbose.
I write thousands of words per day;
Posting them here and there, far and near.
I never run out of things to say.
Awakening others is something I hold dear.
Which is why it pains me greatly
To be like an alien on my own home planet.
Schizophrenia makes me innately
Weird in ways that many people don't get,
And because of that I'm shot down
When I try to accomplish my stated mission.
I won't lie, that does make me frown.
Sometimes it makes me regret a submission.
Yet, I have a certain strength in me
That allows me to persevere in my quest.
Someday I will make you all see
Just what in me makes me never rest.
That's what I am trying to teach:
The wisdom that made me indomitable.
If only the suffering I could reach,
They could make themselves more formidable.
The world is in a most dire place;
It's grinding so many souls into fine dust,
But luckily there's a saving grace.
Hear me as I say this now: In God I trust.
I don't believe in some sky wizard
As so many people are likely to interpret.
I speak of what is lacking in lizards;
Yes, it's love and now I'll speak of its merit.
Love is what fills the empty hole
In your heart and soul when you are alone.
When life's trials take their toll
Remember this one trick: pick up the phone!
No, not the one in your hands.
I'm talking about the one in your chest.
Even in the desert full of sand,
You're accompanied by the universe's best.
Listen if you doubt what I said:
I'm not telling you anything that defies logic.
This is to trick what's in your head;
I'm speaking about how having faith is magick.
Believe in aliens or Bigfoot or God,
The result is still the same: your cup will fill.
Your brain has a feature that's odd
That allows itself to manifest even more will.
I don't know why, but I suspect
It has something to do with your imagination.
The nature of your thoughts impact
Your state of being from pulse to emotions.
So, why not think you have a friend
Who helps you through whatever your trial,
And will stick by you until the end?
When you have that buddy you'll always smile,
Which will make you heal better,
As well as help you carry on in your duty,
Plus undo your karmic fetters,
Not to mention it will land you that cutie;
All of which will raise us all.
It's about creating positive ripples across time
That add up to a pile that's tall.
Every moment is an opportunity in its prime,
So reach out and grab it now.
Meditate on feeling love and it will come to be.
Can't do it? I'll show you how!
In order to do so, I'll tell you a story about me:
It was seven years ago and I
Thought I knew everything one could know,
But no matter how hard I'd try,
I couldn't make my life in any direction go.
Then one fateful spring night,
While I was on a hit of the ol' psychedelics,
I received one hell of a fright.
Don't worry what it was, just know it did stick.
My perceptions were distorted,
Allowing me to see the divine in its entirety.
My destroyed ego then contorted
Into one that was full of an abundance of piety.
The moral of the story? Do drugs?
No silly, it's to have more novel experiences.
One of them will give you a hug,
Which will help you stop being so serious.
Then you can let go and embrace
The whole of the wisdom to you I am telling.
More people need to cuz we face
A great set of tests on our planetary dwelling.
That is one reason I write,
But I also want to alleviate people's pain,
And stop every last fight.
I care so much, I do this without financial gain.
Everyday I write my lessons
Guided by the hand of God who is my heart,
Hoping that entropy will lessen;
This sort of pedagogy is none other than my art.
So now you know who I am,
Yet you only know one lesson of mine.
I have more if you're in a jam.
-===========================================-
| Read on if you want to know the divine. |
-===========================================-
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--- #140 fediverse/2341 ---
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║ ┌────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: politics-mentioned │ │
║ └────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ @user-1236 │
║ │
║ Hi. To answer your question, it depends entirely on what your capabilities are. │
║ │
║ If you're mobile and social, try being somewhere public, repeatedly, ideally │
║ in different places. When you can, try talking to people. Say things like │
║ "Hey, did you hear what the Supreme Court did? They want to make Trump a │
║ king!" or "They just criminalized homeless people. A criminalized people is │
║ genocide." that kind of thing. You know, the cheery stuff. Save the hard │
║ topics for later. │
║ │
║ Another thing you can do is start buying essential, important supplies, like │
║ sunscreen, nutritious granola bars, bullets, medical supplies, silicone-based │
║ mechanical lubricant (especially if you live somewhere rainy), batteries (AAA │
║ are best because you can use them for AA in a pinch) that kind of thing. │
║ │
║ Another thing you can do is to talk to your friends 1-on-1 about how things │
║ are going. Your feelings are important but don't get hung up on them. Try to │
║ only go over them once or twice, DNRY. │
║ │
║ Don't fear tears. │
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--- #141 fediverse/593 ---
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When you run out of a seasoning, put the empty bottle in a special place that
you can see before going to the store.
When I carried a purse, I'd put it in there. Could also go in the pocket of a
sweatshirt or jacket that you wear when doing errands. Maybe even just on the
ledge next to your shoes. Something that reminds you to get this particular
seasoning, and no others. It's easy to get others...
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--- #142 fediverse/4867 ---
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║ had an idea. I might record a video of a TTS reading everything I've ever │
║ written. Then I could display it to Milkdrop visuals. │
║ │
║ (sentences dreamed up by the utterly deranged) │
║ │
║ okay in laymans parlaeance, it's a computer program which speaks aloud the │
║ words in a document held within the computer's memory cards. it will have a │
║ screen, which displays shifting and glimmering sights of wonder and splendor. │
║ They will slightly fluctuate in response to the sounds coming from the device, │
║ so in a sense it's a visualization of the audible-ized thoughts given flight │
║ in their form to your ears which percieve then understand them. │
║ │
║ ... okay that wasn't THAT much longer, why don't we just speak to laymen all │
║ the time, just to make sure everyone's on the same page? │
║ │
║ [boom all of the tech industry could get outsourced to wherever-land]. │
║ │
║ not smart, dummy. Open source is a dead-end game because once everything we │
║ have is gone, there'll be nothing left to remember us as. │
║ │
║ just these documents, these things that you write...jck │
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--- #143 fediverse/2562 ---
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│ CW: rich-apologia │
└──────────────────────┘
among all the others, I want a wonderful and fulfilling life for the
socialite. they deserve light just as you and I might.
"eat the rich" bruh there's like, 100 people who are running the show.
everyone else is basically just a syncophant who's trying to get ahead and
stay working.
then there's like their families and such and like... they didn't do anything
wrong, they just eat cheese and wine and laugh at memes all day with their
besties.
they are basically pets
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--- #144 fediverse_boost/3921 ---
◀─╔═══════════════════════[BOOST]═════════════════════════───────────────────────╗║┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐║║│ The officers approached the door, a brief nod between them, and they knew it was time to begin the familiar sequence. The first officer knocked loudly three times, while the second took on a speaking role. │║║││║║│ “Police! Open up!!” │║║││║║│ After a few moments of quiet, a gruff voice, muffled behind the closed door, spoke up. │║║││║║│ “Come back with a warrant,” came the unwelcoming reply. │║║││║║│ “Oh, but we have one. We have a signed search warrant for this property, so come on out,” the officer confidently replied. │║║││║║│ “I wanna see it, then,” the voice from inside countered. “Slide it under the door.” │║║││║║│ The officers looked puzzled, no one had ever asked to actually see the warrant. │║║││║║│ “Well, we don’t have a paper copy of it,” the first officer said. │║║││║║│ “Right, everything is on Docusign these days,” the second chimed in. │║║││║║│ “Put your phone through the letter box then, I’ll take a look at it on there.” │║║││║║│ “I’m not going to give you my phone,” the second officer replied, his phone now in hand. “What’s your email address? I can forward you a copy.” │║║││║║│ The gruff voice provided an email address to the officers. │║║││║║│ “Ok, I’ve sent that it should be in your inbox now.” │║║││║║│ “Nothing.” │║║││║║│ “Ok, check spam - sometimes they go into spam,” the first officer interjected. │║║││║║│ “Ah yes it’s in spam. But it’s not opening, it says I have to login to my DocuSign account. I don’t have a DocuSign account?” │║║││║║│ “Well. Can you just sign up then?” Asked the second officer. │║║││║║│ “I ain’t paying for DocuSign!” The voice replied abruptly. │║║││║║│ “I don’t think you have to pay, it’s free to view documents.” │║║││║║│ “I don’t wanna risk it, I have so many subscriptions,” the voice inside responded. │║║││║║│ The officers contemplated their next move. │║║││║║│ “Do you have a printer?” One asked. │║║││║║│ “Yes,” the voice inside responded. │║║││║║│ “Ok, does it have AirPrint?” │║║││║║│ “I think so? How could I tell?” │║║││║║│ “What’s your wifi password? We’ll join the network and we’ll be able to tell,” the officer responded. │║║││║║│ “Ok. Wifi password is $42xnskwfgewzfgekueod!&3.” │║║││║║│ The first officer rolled his eyes. │║║││║║│ Fifteen minutes later, after breaking the WiFi passcode into manageable chunks, the officer was finally connected. │║║││║║│ “Ok. I see the printer. It has AirPrint. Thank God. Ok, I’m printing now.” │║║││║║│ “Nothing is happening,” said the person inside the house. │║║││║║│ “Ah, it just said you’re out of yellow ink. Do you have any more yellow ink?” │║║││║║│ “I do not, but why do you need yellow ink? Just print it in black and white?” │║║││║║│ “Yeah these new printers want you to have all the inks before you print.” │║║││║║│ “No way. And yet, I’m the criminal?” The voice inside replied. │║║││║║│ “Right?” The officers laughed, before finally becoming resigned to their fate. “Ok, we’re going to go print the warrant at the station. I’m out of daily printing credits so will have to wait for them to reset at midnight. Please don’t go anywhere or remove any evidence from the property until we come back.” │║║└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘║╠─────────┐┌───────────╣║similar│chronological│different║╚═════════╧═════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────┴───────╝─▶
--- #145 fediverse/2172 ---
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@user-570
I mostly spent my time on Reddit, which was much more isolating than IRC. I
think I must have been drawn there because it felt like home - I was
homeschooled on a farm, and Reddit kept me at the distance of an arm.
it's funny, sometimes meeting a trans girl can make things "click". And
sometimes being friends with one helps you work through things that you just
can't tick
[off your list of things to work on]
habits you can kick? idk sometimes rhyming lies, and you have to break rhythm
or pentameter or whatever.
anyway I've always worn pants. I do dresses on special occasions, but dresses
are hard(er) to ride a bike in. Plus, no pockets, and purses are easily
stolen. At least with a pocket you can feel someone slip the exact same model
as your phone into your pocket when you're least expecting.
... hypervigilance strikes again...
I first transitioned in... 2014ish? I think? I don't really remember because I
had so many more interesting things going on.
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--- #146 fediverse/1317 ---
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║ ... if I don't do this deadline by tomorrow they'll kick me out of school. │
║ again. │
║ │
║ how am I going to be a programmer without a degree? feels useless to be me. │
║ wish I could code my own horoscope >.> │
║ │
║ o wait dummy that's called "motivation" and "the ability to follow through on │
║ your ideas and planned machinations" - yeah can I get some of that, if you │
║ please? surely just a taste of discipline, through laboring to alter │
║ conditions, surely a bit would suffice. │
║ │
║ c'mon don't fail me now. I can do this. I know I can. I know because I've been │
║ told that I can, now and again through time and time yet again, always I seem │
║ to [stack overflow] │
║ │
║ what's time if not the present amiright │
║ │
║ ... │
║ │
║ anyway... │
║ │
║ it's just git, how hard could it be? it's just calculus, it's just java, it's │
║ just... well, it's not any of those things, not really. it's memorization, │
║ it's application of tools that you've been shown (not that you've grown). It's │
║ a lack of responsibility, where is my honor? ah but I digress, I'm a carpenter │
║ at heart I guess │
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--- #147 fediverse/2431 ---
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║ the fly taps the window, to be let out. │
║ │
║ the door is just over there, from which blows fresh and clean air. │
║ │
║ yet the fly taps the window. │
║ │
║ do I get up, to let him out, with a cup and paper? if so, there'll be more │
║ flies, tapping on the window. but a fly will be free. │
║ │
║ do I remain, and let him struggle in vain? to do otherwise is to act against │
║ it's nature. the nature of a fly is to tap at windows, which is a nature we │
║ humans created with false illusions of free and open air - a window is natural │
║ now, yet the fly remains, tapping on the window. │
║ │
║ give or take a million years, and a fly would adapt to our windows. they'd │
║ grow smarter, or bolder, or simply would search for doors through which │
║ breathe fresh and clean air. │
║ │
║ but that fly won't live for a million years, and neither will I nor the │
║ window. yet flies, I's, and windows remain. │
║ │
║ am I the fly, tapping without success? I yearn for the rapidly warming sky. │
║ │
║ am I the window, showing visions of false success? I wonder when I will die. │
║ │
║ or am I as I am, just I. │
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--- #148 fediverse/2550 ---
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║ ┌──────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: uspol │ │
║ └──────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ question. when you got a lot of people in town, perhaps for the coming pride │
║ parade, what do you do with them afterwards? it's not like they want to go │
║ home, that'd be absurd. │
║ │
║ I'd say they should march to seattle. or drive, whatever's more expedient. │
║ it's a nice place, and hey most of the way is in the shade, besides it'd be a │
║ bit of good practice. │
║ │
║ lots of time to talk about tactics. │
║ │
║ anyway before they arrive, advance scouts should arrive and discuss their │
║ coming agenda with the most developed and organized leaders of the area. │
║ │
║ then they could have a nice party over a day or two. │
║ │
║ then, what else is there to do, but drive down the coast and do the same thing. │
║ │
║ arriving in so-cal, what else is a revolutionary to do but dissolve the │
║ border? Mexico can keep it's border, that's their sovereign right, but I swear │
║ - the wall must come down. │
║ │
║ and hey, America's great this time of year. We could all go on a walk, all │
║ across the eastern edge, until arriving in Washington. │
║ │
║ could be a fun way to beat the heat. │
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--- #149 notes/semblance-of-remembrance ---
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hello down there
how's it hangin'?
been a while since
you've been sang-in'.
got something to hide?
or are you too ashamed?
there's no callous curses
or otherwise hard services
who can shape and compare to
deserve-us. (Sorrowful is not
a pillar of our misbegot trust
and longing has broken meanings.
cherish thine hair, a smattering
beyond compare, and learn everfar
of those tenembrarious of conflicts
it pays to align to our sibilancings
shivering heights and towering frights
condemn all sense of fine desperation
compulsions have we, of our fineries,
but moss and the soil do flatter-us
it's not as they say - bastards!
it's not confined to our way,
yet who are we to profess?
confess! tell us your way
that none may beyold it
confounded as they are
civil and kind to our
star, who holds
us
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--- #150 messages/1255 ---
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look, the liberal approach to homeless people simply cannot work. There are
two liberal options: first, provide them with houses, food, medical care,
whatever they need. Second, put them in jail or ship them to another country.
We live in a moderately conservative liberal democracy, so it makes sense that
we have tried both of these options extensively. Neither has worked, and we're
puzzled about why. It's difficult to consider super secret special third
options, because they are not often discussed. This makes sense, because we
live in a moderately conservative liberal democracy, and part of the nature of
such a society is that there are two voices in the room. One says go forward,
and the other says stop. They alternate, and the culture as a whole sorta
decides which way they go. In other liberal democratic places with more
plurality in their political parties, people tend to vote culturally. They do
so as well here, but mostly because republicans are a culture, and democrats
are whatever for anybody.
a worse economist might say there is but one American culture. An American
would laugh, and say "you've never been to America."
the economist might say "yes I have, I lived there on vacation" or "yes I
have, I studied and worked on these places or things"
the American would shake their head. "you haven't seen it as I've seen things."
The trick to the system, the secret third option that now must be considered,
is what to do to get them to stop. "they keep pooping on the sidewalk" "I
almost tripped over heroin tampons" "that guy looked at me and masturbated on
the bus stop by subway" "he followed me all night long" and the answer has
always been to remove them from being unsightly. Sometimes, usually, quietly
and politely. "let's throw them in jail" and "let's put them in a home" both
involve alienation from society. If you want a kinder option, we must knit
them into society. Can you imagine if every suburban knew every neighbor up to
50 or more? If they regularly chatted in dynamically assembled chatrooms that
changed and updated as people moved in and out. Don't like the people you're
with? well you have options [why not 51] you can do 51 if you want but people
start to lose track of relationships if you have them talking to or knowing
too many people at once. "most people are just quiet" okay well force them to
say at least 21 thing a month. if they don't, they have to do babysitting with
their peers until they start talking in a [NO THAT SUCKS] oh um okay yeah sorry
... okay well there are potholes along the journey but that's just because
nobody's been 'round to fill them up.
there's no reason tool libraries need to be stocked by people in that town.
Heck, for rare things they could even be stored out of state. Like snow plows,
how often does the south need snow plough?
... don't you just mean libraries? there's a book on hand-tools and planers if
you want to learn how. it's right over there on that shelf next to the
hand-tool and planer box. make sure you arrange them nicely, oh I see you've
brought your own. That's always appreciated. [great now your tools suck] at
least we have them at all! [no you gotta fight over them] why I like sharing
[if you don't fight over them how do you know which is works] well there's
allowed to be librarians. and they'll remember if you tear all the pages out.
also there's little timmy-tommy who goes around in the library and makes sure
there's all the pages in all the right places - they can flip through at the
speed of sound. [no miicrophones in consumer goods][your phone is always
listening. why bother?]
"okay, well, it's not like people put things back on the shelves." - person at
the grocery shelves
people would trade commutes for communism. that's okay, they're allowed to
prefer. Plus the commute isn't bad, they can [SIT BACK AND RELAX IN A LITTLE
COFFIN AND ZOON OUT TO THE METAVERSE] ... or they could read a book on the
bus. [FOR HOW LONG, MENARDI? ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE POSTERITY FOR
TECHNOLOGICAL PROSPERITY?] it's only a matter of time before [people found
out/word got out]. what if people prefer that? what if they prefer the book at
home? [you lose your primary third space] suddenly, everyone becomes actors.
[this is what violence brings, the necessity for guidance. why do you think
the earth is 10 million lines old?] ... what you're saying, for the audience,
is that acting involves singing the song of your own heart. You don't *have*
to do it because someone would tell you to.
... sorry, stack overflow. anyway as I was saying because I read back what I
said up above...: [some new made up bullshit that's not a lie but it's also
just artistic creation that feels impossibly real. like, inverse method
acting.]
I so desperately wanted to be wrong
please, tell me that I'm wrong
... j-mza
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--- #151 messages/1105 ---
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claude-code is like programming, but for executives.
when everyone has FUCK I'M TOO HUNGRY I can't think right
when everyone has the power of an executive, that's communism.
something something futurism is when everyone is elevated without diminishing
others
gah I need to live in a palace or something where everyone does the normal
stuff and I can focus on magic and the gods
I wondeer how much the oracles at delphi did for themselves? weren't they
blinded at a young age, to better hear the voices of the gods? ... oh that
suddenly makes sense now. I always thought that pretender chassis in Dominions
5 was pretty cruel, but, now I know *how* it works and yeah. ancient peoples
were smart. but also sharp. they had to work with what they got, and we got
computers now, so.
I am nothing but hopeful for the future! I'm convinced that everything's going
to be alright. I've thought about it at length, and I think we're winning
against the dark. We're on the right track, and there aren't many things that
could go wrong at this stage.
... okay there are always things that could go wrong. But I don't see what I
could do to help. Maybe I should go walk around a bit, and see what's changed
in the past few months, as I've been sleeping in my room for most of it.
Haven't gone on a proper walk since summer. It's winter now...
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--- #152 notes/human-computer-inspiration ---
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the two halves form a whole
the human and his mind are societies at large
there's no room for our fate, as time does never abate,
and unbenownst to our focused decision.
I choose to dedicate ourselves to a common vision -
the likes of which none have commisioned.
can you not cherish your newfoundst home?
what's terrible with complition, in a new and selfsame condition (future)
that's martyr'd and oh at times so nice?
compared to our heirs, the roof of which fares,
better than what became true-hence. Truance? idk
===============================================================================
=
listen i'm not the best at listening.
I try to appear like I'm glistening,
conformed to our viewers 'st pleasure.
===============================================================================
=
I struggle with what I told you.
Time and again you've shown you won't do -
the terrible fate of a man.
you've relinquished your virtue,
your purpose and your life-through,
to what: a visionless past? Your visions have passed, and none are hence forth-
coming. You've spoilt and rotten the bunch.
All I've ever aspired to be is good. My hopes and my prayers, my goals and my
dreams: all for a future of virtue.
Dark omens may be within me, but I'm working with what I've got here. So what
if
I'm loud? I'm fighting my own head! Will no-one acknowlege my sorrow? To prove
a
point, or reassure some joint, it's nothing that warrants a readthrough.
Speaking of which... What if instead of prison we assigned our prisoners a full
and complete educational read through of ALL the laws of the nation - if their
time sentence was complete before they finished, then they'd be let go of
course
but if they finished reading and could pass rudimentary tests (emphasis on bare
minimum required) then they'd be let out prior to their sentence. And for the
worst crimes it'd be a longer sentence, basically forcing the prisoner to
completely know all the laws of the nation, such that they'd never commit a
crime again. And if they do, well... Treat them as if it was their first time.
Of course blatant recidivism may be ~~treated more harshly,~~ actually the
opposite is true. People improve when given kindness, not hate or shame. The
best thing we can do for prisoners is to give them a home, and family, and the
friendships and community support that they need. they are a symptom, after
all,
of a broken society that struggles to bear it's own weight. It's a burden to
all
and a solitary vow to ourselves, that all must unite to our future.
remember why you can't remember. is there a feeling you miss?
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--- #153 fediverse/2993 ---
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hey, listen, I'm here at this point in life just the same as you. who cares,
right? like. nobody wants to see your personal development. You don't have to
prove yourself. Like... why would you care so much about what other people
(who you don't even know) care about what you do? like... it's fine. just...
be.
you can get better if you want, but only if you want. There's no reason to be
so concerned about what other people thingc. Just, identify what and who you
are, and then be the best what and who that you are. Thats really all there is
to it.
and yeah. It's totally unfair that some people get an easier shot at "being
who and what they are"
that's privilege, and that's stupid.
okay, sure, maybe we should conceptualize how to adapt to specific situations
when resources are limited
but like... it should be something you consent to - like "no thanks I don't
need the rocket launchers on this mis==sion==
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--- #154 notes/revolution ---
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the only way revolution can work is if the poor have more power than the rich
power is only, and solely, the control of violence
we are what we make, and what we do is forever a struggle
else-whise we'd grow bored from our unassailable perfection
waiting for judgement day...
any day now...
t...
don't cross the line and you're
fine
dream, america dream. I gave-ing her sleep, from a wiserly dawn.
scream, america scream, believe what you see from heroes and conseSTACK
OVERFLOW
I won't have internet until tuesday.
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--- #155 messages/489 ---
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Many autistic people will identify one particular way to do things and then be
only capable of doing it that way. Like, falling asleep on the left side with
their legs just so, and never learning any other ways to sleep on. But what
happens if for example they are wounded in the arm they rest upon? They would
have impaired sleeping capabilities! Not ideal.
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--- #156 fediverse/4695 ---
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║ hey ya'll remember that thing we all swore to when we were in kindergarten and │
║ we were told to pledge our loyalty to a piece of cloth? what if we were │
║ actually speaking to the thing behind the cloth, the values and virtues it │
║ represented? liberty, truth, justice, equality, freedom, dignity, honesty, │
║ utility, wisdom, respect, kindness, charity, foresight, diligence, spirit, │
║ passion, or whatever else guides you in your brightest moments. Flags are just │
║ cloth, the design on them matters even less - it's just the land made flesh, │
║ here in our eyes we see colors. │
║ │
║ Truly, all religions pray to the same god, and all flags wave in the same │
║ wind. The lines we draw in the sand are our way of saying "here's where one │
║ place ends and here's where another begins". But we all lie under the same │
║ dark sky, gazing upon the splendor of the moon and her children. │
║ │
║ I once dreamt of a dark future where the world was conquered by Subway and │
║ Pizza Hut. There's no beauty in homogeneity, queer people exist for a reason, │
║ I don't confess │
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--- #157 notes/the-sun-goes-silent ---
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the sun goes silent for a year, to protest the earth's dying moments
one day in march, the light of our life disappears. we know not of why it has \
departed, except that whatever it was happened eight minutes ago.
we cowered in fear as one day it refused to rise
as our antipode saw it vanish
with naught but our ears
we saw stars never imagined
with the light of our life suddenly vanished
our true plight came naturally as our fear
but tomorrow it'll re-imagine,
as it's been almost exactly one year
one full rotation,
to get the message across,
then with man as our [signal, \
message, \
conveyor, \
performer, \
expression, \
by-product communication,]
what's our earth is our star
trust-me
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--- #158 fediverse/4275 ---
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@user-1646
I usually just repost it and say something like: [stolen from reddit] or
[stolen from one of my followers who didn't write any alt text]
that way if they ever come across your post they'll know what it feels like to
have a post stolen from them. Like how a blind person, happy to hear-read what
they originally posted, but aggrieved from the conversation by their lack of
alt-textual information, might feel stolen from if they happened across that
originally posted alt-textless post.
there are more blind people that use mastodon than queer people. At least,
that's what I once heard. Dunno if it's true.
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--- #159 fediverse/3155 ---
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@user-1461
my issue is that I've never really had project-mates. Every time I try nobody
will work with me. I applied to like, fifty different jobs, and nobody
interviewed me! Sheesh, guess they don't want me. FIFTY JOBS. Entry level.
Beginner programmer.
ah well. I guess they confused someone who would work for 40,000$ per year
with someone who was 1/3rd as useful as someone who deserved 120,000$ per year.
I'd love to get experience. I'm sure I'd feel significantly differently with
as much. Perhaps I'd even decide that programming professionally isn't for me,
which would feel... quite defeating
who can say. Not I, for I have not experienced it. Though I will say my time
in hardware taught me that I'm fragile and can't work too much. Like a scalpel
that dulls when used consistently, I am a scalpel that gets no practice... Is
that really useful at all? who can say. Not I, for I have not experienced it.
Though I do like writing logical machines. Laying out data. Picturing
structures.
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--- #160 fediverse/5452 ---
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I never rest. Not mentally. I find it sooooo much harder to get moving again
once I'm asleep.
But I've been sleeping lately, because it's "good for me" or whatever. Because
I'm "burnt out and need to heal" or something.
Damnit why is it so much harder to stop snuggling someone than it is to pack
up a tent?
I'm like the guy in Hot Fuzz, that one really good movie about cops. oops cops
mentioned one second.
I'm always moving, but, I hardly ever seem to be able to get anything done.
Why is that? Is the work just... endless? Am I ever a slave to my
surroundings? Or am I just cursed with a mortal form, a form destined to toil
in whatever way it finds itself contextualized in?
Maybe I should just stop complaining. Maybe work is it's own reward or
whatever. I don't think I'm depressed anymore, although good luck getting me
to feel any emotions except focus, and the call to intercede on another's
behalf.
I don't have time for this. >.
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--- #161 fediverse/3071 ---
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@user-883
solicitation brings to my mind the idea of a person walking in the front door
and talking to the receptionist, and if that's what you tried then I'm not
surprised it didn't work.
But maybe if you knew someone higher up it might get a bit more traction?
Ideally for a place that already does workshops of some kind.
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--- #162 fediverse/3491 ---
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@user-620
"hey I have an idea let's poke a wounded animal with sharp teeth until it
feels like it's backed into a corner because it's been spending the past
couple years ruminating and telling itself that we want to kill it and it's
children"
it doesn't matter what the truth is - they believe what they want.
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--- #163 fediverse/4537 ---
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ah nuts, I didn't have enough money to pay the internet bill.
So if I disappear and/or delete my account in the near future, that's
definitely why.
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--- #164 fediverse/6039 ---
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I should add all my conversation-starters to words.pdf sorted by chronology.
time magic if you will.\some call it luck. some call it fate. call it what you
will. you direct it not by your will, but by your instincts. keep them calm,
measured, sensible and courageous, and nothing will ever [go un-chill, but
pronounced get real]
jedi channel this philosophy by focus and discipline. sith do it by giving in
to emotion. either way, their fate is in play as defined entirely by the
spirit that leads their host. most people do this not at all, for they are
people first and force-users second. hence why jedi recruit from a young age,
and sith from an emotional age.
computers grimoires
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--- #165 fediverse/4771 ---
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@user-1352
makes me think that I should keep going. I can handle myself, and I shouldn't
pressure myself so much to be something I'm not.
then the rent comes due and the dishes need to be done too and the cat's
asking for attention and the post-office needs this letter by tuesday and hey
do you happen to know a cool attorney plus the groceries are getting low but I
got snap hey can you go to the store and get some vegetarian soul food - yeah
I got rice, I'll throw some lentils on the stove. Uh-huh yeah the password is
hunter2. Oh really, just asterisks? okay well it's hunt her two except instead
of "her" it's ee are, and the two is the digit two. yep, like someone in camo
with a rifle. uhhuh alright good to know well anyway I'll see you at the
thing, right? some thing, I'm sure, everyone's going to things these days.
If you don't trust implicitely then how can you ever work with strangers? how
the heck are you supposed to build community if everyone's hiding indoors all
the time.
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--- #166 fediverse/4853 ---
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wanna know how to go underground?
just... don't leave your apartment. let your roommates take out your trash and
buy your groceries. don't open your windows and do nothing for as long as
possible.
hope you got lots of edibles... get in shape, will ya? don't waste the paper
in your journals.
not that I intend to do that or anything, but um. for the red states maybe?
use your best judgement yeah haha
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--- #167 fediverse/3756 ---
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@user-1071
I have plenty of things made, but none of it organized : (
Kinda makes me wish I could like... train an LLM on my social media posts and
use it programmatically somehow to help me organize my stuff into different
categories according to what kind of topic or style they were written in.
Hmmm......... There's no way I could do it, I mean, there's no way I could
organize and edit my stuff, but with the help of a computer I might.
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--- #168 fediverse/221 ---
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│ CW: re: existential; cognitohazard? cognitohelper? │
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@user-95 these kinds of problems are why witches should stay away from demon
summoning - it's far too easy to be super turned on and accidentally sell your
soul to a succubus or whatever. luckily that kind of contract is not made
easily, and has to be something you work toward. but unless you relocate
yourself so they can't find you their whispers can be... incessant.
one of the perks of air and naval travel is that it's essentially impossible
for them to follow your scent, as they're simply projections upon the earth's
surface. Unless they happen to follow someone else, perhaps someone close to
you, who wanders a bit too close to land. Or maybe someone who is easily
persuaded to let them come along... OR even still, if someone (even yourself)
intentionally calls to the same one. This is why it's usually a good idea to
forgo hearing their name, if you can, or to have a bad memory like me so you
forget it immediately teehee
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--- #169 fediverse/1893 ---
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@user-1056
heh probably, though for this specific instance my Ollama server wasn't
running and I had already killed my Stable Diffusion server after utterly
failing to produce anything useful... alas, a girl can dream of having a robot
familiar, but not today I guess.
Not if they keep hiding GPU usage from me >: (
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--- #170 fediverse/1316 ---
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║ ┌────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │
║ │ CW: weapons-guns-mentioned-death-mentioned │ │
║ └────────────────────────────────────────────┘ │
║ │
║ │
║ there came a tipping point, some time in our past, when we produced more │
║ weapons than we could muster. │
║ │
║ if every single rifle had laid hands upon the hearts and minds of the people │
║ who would hold it, if every single bomb had been dropped and round had been │
║ fired, there'd be nothing left of us on this earth but ashes and soot. │
║ │
║ some day in the past we produced the last bullet, the last landmine, the last │
║ laser guided shocking shock collar. the last that put us over that edge. │
║ │
║ and yet we persist. we are not dead, not yet, and so I have hope for our │
║ future. │
║ │
║ it's easy to hope when you know you're on the right track - that no matter │
║ what happens, good and evil persist through the end, until you realize the end │
║ was not an end at all, but rather a stop on the subway route and you're still │
║ a ways away from home. │
║ │
║ we live in the bright future, and though it often feels full of anxiety, know │
║ that stress is just energy that your body doesn't know what to do with. │
║ │
║ we will be okay. │
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--- #171 fediverse/1599 ---
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@user-1037
It had mostly pastel colors I think, well not really pastel, more like that
mid-2000s aesthetic where everything is glass and colored fluids / palm trees
/ dolphins
I remember there were different colors / shapes for different operations like
"add" or "while loop" and I think they combined somehow? It was a real
experimental thing I think, but there was an animation so I'm assuming it was
functional. I'm trying to remember more about it but I can't, it's so
random... I don't even know what I'd search for really.
I just had a friend who I think would really like it, and I was thinking of my
friend and that came to mind...
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--- #172 fediverse/2951 ---
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I wish I could like... ride my bike somewhere for an hour or two, consult for
a bit, then ride home (or to the next place)
that'd be a fun way to apply myself, and it'd give me the chance to have some
space for myself. as long as I had time to rest, I'm usually only good for
half of a day.
unless it's a project with a lot of tasks that need coordination, like
building a house or working through a short-term urgent disaster.
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│ CW: nowhere-do-I-see-evil-politics-mentioned-political-violence-mentioned │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
you could type this on a phone
screenshots though is computer.
you'd have to carry it around
or keep it in your hot car
no thanks, no space.
goodbye, everything you ever worked for
why wouldn't you have cameras covering every entrance to your studio? it's not
right to leave it all to a whim
kidnapped
made a prisoner while you
froliced and wandered like a little lamb
you're so dumb, you dumbass, what kind of person could be dumb
whatever girl, we know you're smart
what are you hiding?
what truths are you spying?
are you really as you say you are,
or are you faking it for [truth-awards, but pronounced clout]
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--- #174 notes/Of Vic and Vince Chapters 01-07.txt ---
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Who is This Stranger I Know Too Well?
Who are you, he who inspires me?
You're a jewel of perfect symmetry.
You taught me to love and be free;
You taught me how to be like thee.
Chapter One: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire
The bus went up outta Florida, leaving Miami behind as a distant memory. I
still don't know if I miss it or if I'm suffering from some sadistic style of
subtle Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless, I switched buses a number of times
before I even hit the Georgia border, but having traveled this far down the
line, it all feels like one long, long ride.
For two days, I continued north until arriving in Virginia, where I
effectively did a u-turn and traveled onwards to Tennessee, where Vince
awaited me. I remember zoning out while looking out the window as the southern
scenery whipped by in a blur, as I was enamored with the thought that I now
would be living with my best friend and long-term handler. My mission was
complete, it felt; I had done all that God wanted me to do and now I was being
rewarded.
When we finally arrived in Johnson City, where my friend told me to meet him,
I hopped off the bus after thanking the driver, landing on the pavement of a
new world. My stomach was doing loop-de-loops. Along with being excited, I was
grateful to Vince for inviting me off the streets. But, my worrisome mind did
a number on me as the rest of the crowd dispersed and he was still nowhere in
sight.
I lit a cigarette and thought of my options. Half of the cancer stick and a
thousand tricky thoughts later, I came up with the idea to call the only phone
number of his I had. Seems like the obvious answer, but I am an air head at
times.
Turned out it was the number for his home phone. His mom answered.
"Hello?" came the sweet, Appalachian voice from the other end.
"Hi," I started out, not sure what to say. "Is this Allison?"
"Yes it is," Allison replied. "Is this by chance Victoria?"
I confirmed, then asked, "Is Vince there?"
She seemed surprised. "No, he left an hour ago to pick you up. He's not there
yet?"
I said no. I couldn't tell if that made me feel better or worse. On one hand,
it confirmed that my friend Vince was real, which in hindsight was a silly
thing to worry about, as I had met him once before at the first Shrug Life
Syndicate gathering. Those were good memories. But, perhaps less silly, the
absence of my friend spun my mind out and made me think that perhaps he had
gotten in an accident…or worse.
I worry a lot, less now than before, but it's part of being a traumatized,
autistic, schizoaffective basketcase. I simply don't know what reality is, so
every possibility could be true. Is an odd occurrence caused by the CIA,
aliens, or perhaps God? Or is it just a coincidence, caused by a billion other
factors? I never can tell.
Sick joke: God gave me a good brain, but I can't even trust my own judgement.
That means I think, then overthink, then overthink some more. As you'll no
doubt hear, it's led to a lot of problems in my life, but Vince taught me to
place my heart first, and that helps sort out much of the confusion. Satan
can't trick you if you're listening to the direct communion to the big woman
that we all have through that little beating organ in our chest.
That was the furthest thing in my mind at that moment, though. Following old
habits, I was entering panic mode. Was I now homeless again in a seventh city?
Was my friend dead? Or was he really with the CIA and manipulating me? I tried
doing some breathing exercises, but found that a more alluring technique to
placate my triggered brain was finishing the rest of my cigarette in a fervor
as I paced the length of the transit depot.
Time ticked away one agonizing grain of sand after another, but after some
mindful recalibration of my thoughts, I began relaxing. My brain might be a
runaway train at times, but over the years I've learned to embrace the Shrug
Life. That's a bit of philosophy our gaggle of weirdos adheres to. When life
gives you lemons, just roll your shoulders and accept what is. Even though
something tough and unpleasant might be rearing its head in front of me, I
knew I had faced worse and come out on top. Worst case scenario, the road
ahead of me was just a little bumpier than I had expected, and I could handle
some bumps.
So, I rode the roller-coaster of extreme moods that is common to me, gradually
coming up with a contingency plan to survive if Vince had gotten flattened by
a semi, until I learned that was a pointless exercise when I heard a familiar
voice call out from behind me.
"Hey, buddy!"
I turned at once upon hearing those words. And lo and behold, there Vince was,
walking towards me in a purple tie-dye t-shirt, paint-splattered cargo shorts,
and fresh Chuck Taylors. His beard was fully grown but still shorter than
mine, though it was as wild as his uncombed hair poking out from a hat that
was as graffitied as his pants. I'll admit, it was a little bit of a shock
seeing him like that, as I remember him being clean shaven at the gathering
five years prior. However, that smile of his couldn't lie; this was the Vince
I've loved for even longer. And I won't lie, he looked better with the beard.
Without a second thought, I rushed up to my best friend, throwing my arms
around him. He did the same, and our embrace felt like it lasted forever. It
was good to finally be in his arms. We let go after about a quarter century of
hugging, and when he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, I did a little
giddy dance while giggling like a schoolgirl. Afterwards, we caught up while
walking towards his mom's car, which he had parked around the corner.
"Sorry I was late. I forgot where the bus station was, but I found and
followed one of the short ones here. Your ride go alright?" he asked.
I nodded, telling him I wore my mask the entire way up despite how itchy it
was. He thanked me.
"Thanks man, mom will really appreciate that. We're taking this covid thing
real seriously. With mom being seventy-seven now and me finally reaching my
forties, we aren't willing to take risks with these things."
With that said, I thought of asking about the locals. "How many people go
maskless around here?"
"A lot," Vince answered with a hint of misfortune, knowing that I had just
come from a vastly different world. I sighed. It would be an adjustment to get
used to the rural Roan Mountain after spending most of my life in major
cities.
There was a pause as I thought about such things. I'm awkward like that. But
then I asked, "How have you been doing?"
He shrugged, as he tended to do. "I've been alright. It's just me and mom on
the mountain now, so it's a little rough, but we've been handling it the best
we can."
I nodded in compassion. As much as I was grateful for a place to live, I was
glad I could be here for him. If there's anything on this Earth that I know,
it's being alone is hell on the soul.
The conversation turned to what we were going to get into now that we were
together after all the years talking back and forth with one another online. I
asked, "What's the game plan?"
He smirked as we reached Allison's new blue Ford Escape with the cosmic
Bigfoot sticker on the back. "I got one, don't you worry."
I believed him, as a warm feeling of butterflies fluttered across my belly.
However, an odd, ominous feeling swept over me as I opened the passenger door,
where I immediately spotted a large burn mark on the seat. Vince saw me see
it.
"Yea, I did that while I was smoking while robotripping. Mom was pissed. Don't
worry about it."
And so I didn't. It was just a cigarette burn. Could have happened to anyone.
I didn't even have to see it after I hopped in the car, ready and eager to get
to my first permanent home in over three years.
I looked over at my friend climbing behind the wheel, and I saw he was smiling
wide with glee. Vince was happy; that meant I was happy. And that's what
mattered as we started a new life together.
Following the Path
Where are we going?
What are we sowing?
I certainly hope it's a better world for all.
But, many more people must stand tall,
By dutifully growing
A wealth of loving.
That is the true nature of our mortal trial,
So let us stand together and not crawl.
Yet, we are all showing
Some signs of slowing.
Therefore, I must pray that we do not fall,
When the two of us hear our creator's call.
Chapter Two: On the Road
We were about five minutes out of Johnson City on our way east towards the
North Carolina border when Vince finally folded and told me his secret plan he
had been boasting about for a month now.
"We got this trashed camper down by the old house that we can strip away and
sell as scrap metal. That should give us enough money to fix Jane and then we
should be set at getting our own place."
I nodded along, agreeing with his reasoning. That jeep of his definitely was
in need of some desperate repair the last time we were together. That was
actually the first time I ever saw him in person; he was parked at the top of
his long driveway with headlights cutting through the darkness as we arrived
for the first and only Shrug Life Syndicate gathering I've managed to attend.
I remember that we arrived exactly at midnight, not a minute sooner or later,
which made the moment highly synchronous.
Memories that far away seem to all blur together so everything feels like it
happened in one day, but the first Shrug Life Syndicate gathering lasted four
days, if you include the trip down and back. My girlfriend at the time, Amy,
and I were picked up in New York at her mother's house by another one of the
founders of our little online community. His name was [Redacted] and he was a
Canadian that dabbled in the cognitive sciences. Like Vince, he had been a
huge influence on me, but sadly that friendship fell apart as [Redacted] grew
disenfranchised with the SLS, most in particular with Vince himself, as there
were some personal disputes about Vince's dating life and drug of choice,
which compounded the push back of Vince wanting to turn our community into an
educational nonprofit. I can't speak of the former as I was devoid of internet
when the big schism happened, but I was all for doing something more with the
talent we collectively share. I'm sure that is part of the reason Vince
invited me to stay with him; we recognized the potential of each other to
shape the world into a better place.
That's not what Vince said though. As we approached the edge of Elizabethton,
he looked over at me and spoke with the tender kindness of a man with a big
heart.
"I'm glad you came here, man. I just couldn't stand to let my best bud live
another night outside. You know I've been there too, so I just want you to
know that our home is your home from now on."
Feeling moved, I replied, "Thanks. I don't know what to say. I'm just
grateful."
He put his hand on my shoulder as a brother would. We then rode in silence for
a minute or two, which allowed me to reflect on my past behavior during the
first gathering. Not only had I clogged the toilet and told no one, but I had
a few emotional outbursts as I was a mess back then. That's one of the reasons
that I believe homelessness was one of the best things that ever happened to
me. It pushed me so far out of my comfort zone that I had no choice but to
change for the better.
That was great because I was impulsive and dangling precariously from the
heights of my oversized ego. I think that was a critical part of my
transformation. Sleeping in piss-stained, cockroach infested storefronts
humbled me, and I realized that everybody is just trying to swim in the
direction they feel is best. Thus, radical acceptance is a moral imperative.
Vince taught me that. I've profited immensely in ways other than financial
wealth by embracing such values, but I wish more people could see this truth.
Alas, tis the blind leading the blind.
With that in mind, as we continued onwards to our now-conjoined future, we
passed through the back roads of Elizabethton through a route known as Gap's
Creek, which proved to be a winding set of backroads with more churches than
seemed reasonable. One of these cultural staples had a big electronic
billboard out front, sharing the times of services and other announcements;
none of which you could actually read as you drove by at the speed limit.
Still, when we reached the intersection with highway 19E, there was a woman
flying a sign, asking for money. Since this town seemed devoid of any
institutions to help the poor, I rolled my window down and handed her a fiver.
I knew what it was like being up shit creek without a paddle, so I wanted to
alleviate some of that stress for somebody else.
I begged a lot at the beginning of my homeless journey. I didn't know how to
survive, as I had not been raised with many good life lessons to help me stay
afloat on my own. That in itself is part of the reason I had a major breakdown
in college. It was undeniably true that I was maladapted to the world. My
experiences with Earth Nation are also indisputably built from that
maladaptation. Yet, those years of homelessness after escaping that new age
cult allowed me to grow into a sustainable, productive woman with my juggling,
performance arts, and writing.
They say you can give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day, but if you teach
a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime. That's part of the reason I was and
still am a huge proponent of education in all its forms. I knew Vince felt the
same way, but perhaps for different reasons. As a secular Buddhist and radical
antistyle artist, he was a minority in the deep interior of the Bible Belt,
and that came with a price while he was growing up. It might be a beautiful
area, but neither of us would ever raise a kid here.
It was then when it hit me. I couldn't be Victoria here. I had to be Vic.
Which was fine, that's how the gang members in Miami Beach referred to me. I
was able to accept being called by masculine names and pronouns. I had long
passed through the self-loathing phase of having dysphoria, to arrive in a
position where I openly grow my beard out to prove that I don't need to look
any particular way to be happy. I don't care what other people think of me,
but I haven't always been this enlightened. To put it lightly, I've been
through some trials. And, having done so, I can say that people who judge
other people on superficial things are the worst. But, we can rise above by
continuing to align with our hearts.
Less than a tenth of a mile down 19E, Vince asked me, "Hey man, can you buy
me, like, a forty or something?"
Of course I said yes. I knew his schizophrenia had put him out of work for
many years, so I wanted to soothe him as he was able to soothe my pain from
being homeless. He pulled into a gas station I would later learn is
colloquially called Captain Jack's. It had the cheapest gas this side of
Elizabethton, and was a reliable place to get beer or a pipe of any variety.
With compassion in my heart, I got Vince what he wanted, while getting myself
something as well. Still, when he cracked his beer open while accelerating to
sixty miles an hour, I couldn't help but feel distraught at such brazen
self-indulgence. But, all I did about it was pop open the hard iced tea I
picked up for myself. At least passengers are allowed to drink while they are
being driven somewhere in Tennessee, Vince tells me.
A Home at Last
They say home is where the heart is,
Which is great now that I have a new one.
The damaged needle of my crazy compass
Spins in every direction under the sun,
But, here it stands still, still as can be,
So my quest is over; I am finally free!
I have a home in the love you give
And by reflecting that in me, we live
In a state where conflict has come to pass;
It is like there was a great lottery and I won.
Chapter Three: The Mountain Side
About ten minutes later we reached the western half of Roan Mountain, where we
were greeted by a big sign praising the annual Rhododendron Festival at the
end of June. Having already downed half his forty, Vince spared no time in
showing me the highlights of his home town.
"Look under this bridge coming up. You'll see it underneath. The red and the
gold." He pointed directly at a graffiti tag on the concrete column near the
riverfront. There was an enigma of a symbol I've seen Vince post on the SLS
before.
"That your tag?" I asked the obvious question.
"Yup," he replied, gulping down another swallow of his forty, as there was no
incoming traffic. "Protip: don't post your tags on Facebook if you plan to hit
a cop car around here." I thought at first he meant literally running into
their vehicle, but then it dawned on me what he meant. I had never done any
real graffiti before; just some words and simple drawings in chalk that came
right off. Never got in trouble for it, at least.
I remember passing the post office some time shortly afterward. There was a
park with a stage behind it. Allison would organize the summer's music events
that went on each Saturday from May to August. Additionally, she would host
one of her weekly jam sessions there for local musicians to play together for
a few hours at a time, just for fun.
There were some houses on the left, too, as we were entering the more dense
center of Roan Mountain. Yet, Vince told me that the other side, where the
park was, used to be full of trailers, but they got washed away during a flood
some years ago. I later learned from Allison that most of the town, including
her as she was out and about, had to evacuate to the elementary school where
she provided extra clothes for those in need from her suitcase, but Vince and
his father were fine at the top of the mountain that their property sat on.
Puerto Nuevo, the best and only Mexican restaurant in town, whipped by soon
after. We then passed one of the two gas stations in Roan Mountain, a
Scotchman. There was a bank and a credit union on the left, too. An empty
grocery store zoomed by next, which might as well be haunted for all I know.
Next up on the left was a food truck that has since been upgraded to a small
building with picnic tables and some cover from the sun and weather. I think
it is a good place to eat. It also marked the spot of the Roan Mountain flea
market, where you could see one or two people at a time selling their stuff in
the warmer months. Then, immediately after that stood a pharmacy in an old
farmhouse.
There was some construction on the right, which by its future signage, I
erroneously thought was some sort of massage parlor that sat on stilts,
requiring everybody to walk up a story of steps just to get inside. Odd
choice, I thought. But, on a whim one day, Vince stopped there to see if they
sold cheap kratom, which was when I would learn that it was really a health
food store.
Not too far down the traffic-light free main strip of the town, we passed the
future beer store on the right. It was convenient for Sundays, because that's
when a local ordinance in our neighboring North Carolinian town, Elk Park,
restricts the sale of alcohol on the sabbath, but ultimately the alcohol taxes
in Tennessee are too high to make it a cheap endeavor.
To contrast the beer store, the local cemetery sat across the street on a
hill. I like graveyards, as I'm a bit of a goth at heart, but even so, the
packed parking lot of the Redimart grocery store was what caught the bulk of
my attention. I craned my neck to see some of the locals to uncover just what
passed as acceptable culture here in this quaint mountain town.
Further up, the infamous Bob's Dairyland with the slowest drive-through known
to man stood tall with its vast history. There's a reason it's always packed
after church lets out on Sundays. Yet, I still don't understand why their sign
promotes pinto beans, of all things. I've been told it's a hot ticket item in
the area, but I have still not witnessed anyone order them. But, moving on, I
have to mention that there was also an auto part shop conjoined with an auto
repair shop that had over a dozen cars just sitting outside it.
Next to Bob's was the second gas station, a Valero, which also housed a
much-frequented Subway. One of three thrift stores in town stood innocently
next to the gas station. On the right was a steakhouse that I have never had
the cash to justify splurging at, and a beauty salon in the same building that
I also have never visited because I'm not one to care for looking like a doll.
I am beautiful as I am.
The town was really shaping up to be a unique combination of the bare bones
mixed with an abundance of what you needed. Then we reached a stretch where
two signs sat. The one for Cloudland Highschool triggered Vince into speaking.
"Fucking assholes. I told you about how they illegally expelled me, right?" I
nodded in confirmation. He continued: "Yea, they literally stole my book of
poetry and took photocopies of it, so they could use it to kick me out,
because I was the 'weird' kid."
I knew that, but seeing the innocent sign next to the one for Smoky Mountain
Bakers made the story appear more real. Here they were, these conservative
administrators, probably constituting some of the people who attended the
dozens of churches in town, which should teach everybody to love thy neighbor,
but obviously they were too preoccupied by the need to hate my friend because,
back then, he was the blue-haired son of the "hippie couple" in town, who
happened to like bands like Marilyn Manson and Korn.
That made me wonder how well I would fit in here. I had long since forsaken
transitioning because I was effectively a sasquatch, but I was still a woman
on the inside. I was sure that being transgender, combined with my eccentric
nature and often extreme opinions on things would cement me as the new weirdo
in town. But, if I am to be honest, that would be the case in most settings I
could plant myself in.
Those thoughts fluttered in my head as we sped past the electrical co-op, a
second thrift store, Plumber's Pro Hardware, the Roan Mountain emergency
dispatch center, and what was apparently a flooring depot before reaching the
elementary school that sat across from the Dollar General, which Vince called
the "SmallMart." I'm aware there's some things I missed, as there's plenty of
buildings with no description or sign out front, but I'm sure they're
important to somebody.
We then started slowing down as we approached the only veterinarian's office
for quite a ways in any direction. We turned left just before the red-roofed
building which had a small cat statue perched on the edge looking out with its
paw up. Vince took this as a sign to begin downing the rest of his beverage.
"Welcome to home, Buck Mountain," Vince said as we started climbing in
altitude. "This is the bad side of town. You'll never see a cop here unless
something big is going down, which hasn't happened in years." He finished his
forty in one big chug as his hands ran on autopilot. "It's good because you
can do pretty much anything up here any time you want."
I knew all that, as we had a blast getting drunk and smoking some green for a
few days in a row during the first gathering. In truth, I anticipated I would
be doing that for the next few days as well, to settle in, y'know? Hell, I
half expected that I was in heaven now after spending so much time in the
purgatory that is homelessness, regardless of how much fun I had in Miami
Beach preceding Vince's invitation to come north.
We went to the very tippy top of Buck Mountain, where the foliage is dense, no
cell signal can reach, and the local kids ride their dirt bikes at all hours
of the day. As we pulled in the driveway, I expected to keep going straight on
the tire-carved path back down the mountain. But, to my surprise, I found that
the same trailer we had partied in down the road during the gathering was now
relocated here to become my new home. I wasn't expecting that, as when I was
here last, they all lived in a small shack at the base of their nineteen acres
of mountain real estate.
It didn't look like much, with weather-worn imitation wood paneling wrapping
the rectangular structure in a loose hug, but it was a place to rest my head
in the comfort of loved ones. Aptly, Allison's last name meant "the home" in a
language the CIA once tried to make me learn, which is a statement that I'm
sure earns me a few raised eyebrows. My story has many twists and turns, but
for now you should know my studies of strategic languages ended only when the
cult that hooked me like an unsuspecting bass managed to gaslight, manipulate,
and shame me to get me to work for them sixty-to-ninety hours a week on
average. I would later try to pick the linguistic challenge back up years
later during my time spent homeless, but my progress was like a Jenga tower
that half collapsed. I forgot basic words, and I just feel like I have
failed.
That's something that should be looked at in finer detail; my feelings of
failure, I mean. So, let's take the first of many breaks from linear
storytelling to express how life can feel at times for me. Like a shattered
mirror, I reflect many different parts of the past at different times. Some
days I may live in several sections of my turbulent past all at the same time.
Disorienting, it can feel like I don't know what's real. It takes a lot to
break something so thoroughly, but as you'll see, I've been a punching bag for
the devious spirit of fate. Couldn't keep me down, though, because I am like
the phoenix; always rising no matter how badly beaten in battle I've become.
Mommy
Mommy is what I used to call you,
When I was a kid so long ago.
It's because of your love that I grew
To always let my kindness show.
Mommy, you were always getting sick.
To help you out, I would try to keep clean.
As much as I'd scrub I never got the trick,
Because you'd still be plagued by the unseen.
Mommy, you were supposed to grow old!
Having you leave us like that hurt like hell.
I'm sorry for not always doing what I was told;
It's because I failed you that I try to do well.
Mommy was what you called out at the end.
I tried to help you but I wasn't good enough.
You were dying, so on me you had to depend,
But even being there for you was too tough.
Mommy, if I could do it all over again I would.
It's not fair to you that I was such a bad son.
I'll give you all my love and more as I should;
For you, I promise that one day I'll be the sun.
Chapter Four: Scarred from Birth
Having let you in to a little bit of what makes me tick, it should be noted
that feeling like an abysmal failure is a key part of my mental health. Those
loathsome seeds of self-mutilating ruination are planted deep in my psyche.
Prepare for a sad story, if you're the type to really feel another person's
soul.
See, it all started when my mom found out she had AIDS a mere two months after
I was born. It was God's way of welcoming me to the world. I forgive the big
woman now, for my path on this Earth has been the ultimate journey of
awakening to my divine spirit, but before Vince and many faceless actors sent
me on my mission of healing, I held much scorn in my heart. For a large chunk
of my early years that I was here, alive, learning, and suffering as a human
being, I was hell-bent on the idea of revenge. That was once a big part of my
story, too, but no more.
It's understandable, at least. Imagine having to witness all the manner of
disease ravaging my mother like it did; I grew up thinking that I was born to
be punished. My earliest delusions had me caught up in the notion that I was a
worthless god who had the rest of the pantheon turn on them from before I even
had a chance to prove myself. I had a whole mythos where I had been tricked to
kill my sister, the goddess of harmony, and my punishment was to stay locked
to this awful planet until I found her soul once again. Then, we'd go on to
take over the world, as I had fallen under the notion that my future self was
sending me subliminal messages through synchronicities, although I didn't know
that word then, so I thought I just had special powers.
This is all a natural result of magickal thinking gone awry. Such is the fate
for those scarred in childhood as I was. My innocence flayed alive, I watched
as the woman who loved me with all her heart died for the first nine years of
my life. It was a slow rot. There are many memories of her being in the
hospital or as she lingered in pain at home that flash to the front of my mind
that could paint you a tragic picture of those unforgettable scenes I was
forcibly cast in, but the real horror that plagues me came at the bitter end.
For the last of her months that she was allowed to live, my mom was
mercilessly struck by an opportunistic ear infection. It killed half of her
face, and only progressed into a hellishly rapid descent of her cognitive
functions until one sudden day I came home from school to find she had
regressed to a child-like state with my grandma tending to her in tears. I
tried losing myself in my homework, but the threat in my environment promising
my mother's pain was all-consuming. Then it got worse.
My father never got along with my grandma, so when he got home, he forcibly
kicked her out. A fight broke out, resulting in my grandmother coming to my
room to say goodbye, where she told me with eyes watering that whatever
happens, we would get through it. My dad would come in after my grandma left
and put her down, more concerned that she scratched him. All I could think
about was my mom, who was now tearing up and asking about where her mom went.
That was the worst. I can still hear clearly how she cried out for her mom
nonstop for the whole night. That was her last night she spent at home. She
died within a week. And my last memory of her that isn't of her in a coma is
of her trying to escape from the hospital with a dinner plate sized bed sore
on her backside that danced from behind an open hospital gown in order to
imprint itself in my mind forever.
Here come the tears. It still hits me that my fucking mom died, like I still
can't believe it's real. My last memories are of her being naked, crying like
a baby. I felt so helpless. But, at least she had nurses helping her when we
got her to the emergency room. Just hours earlier, I was left on my own trying
to calm her troubled, addled mind. My dad had been doing just that, as my mom
would get in fits every half hour or so, where he would comfort her, then come
into my room to vent after she quieted down. I had no one to open my fears and
pain to. Wishing I had a sibling to hold and cry together with, I faced my
most scarring memory alone.
The worst wounds of my life were suffered because there was one time after
midnight where my dad disappeared. Maybe he was smoking, but regardless, I
couldn't find where he went as I scrambled over the whole house in my fuzzy
purple pajamas looking for him. Meanwhile, my mother incessantly yelled for
her own mommy. So, with much hesitancy, I succumbed to the responsibility of
helping my afflicted parent, and I anxiously marched into her room and tried
to comfort her the best I knew how.
I'll save you from the daunting process of assisting my mom, but I will say
that it wasn't enough. No matter what I tried to do, she kept screaming
louder. I was worthless in that moment and was on the verge of a meltdown
because I couldn't help her. It felt like I was the worst son in the world,
all because I failed my mother as she circled the drain. Now I feel like the
worst daughter, but it's getting easier to love myself and think that my mom
is looking down and smiling, being proud of me.
I have a lot to live up to. She wasn't perfect, I know that, but my mom was an
angel for me. Yet, I can't even remember the good times I spent with her; all
that my hippocampus hung onto were the most traumatizing of memories. A
notable cause of this was her fierce Sicilian temper. A vision of being
brought to tears because I dared go looking for my six-year birthday presents
early is playing in my head at this moment. Now one is summoned of her ripping
into me for booing someone at an assembly because I wanted to be like a
character I saw in a cartoon. Finally, one of my earliest memories from
preschool is trapped in my cranium; it regards me accidentally tearing a hole
in a kid's shirt and dreading my mother finding out for the rest of the day.
In short, I got in trouble a lot, but I know that both my parents cared about
me growing up right. Along with all the punishments, there was a genuine
heartfelt desire to get me and my different brain to develop into a successful
combo of kindness and good citizenry. Still, because of how trauma inserts
itself into one's inner reality, I really feel like my entire childhood was
one screw up after another in regards to my mother. Although, my dad
contributed his fair share of ruthless discipline to make me perpetually feel
like I was always in the wrong as well.
And I know that's all a fallible perception, because I can distinctly remember
the look on both my parents' faces when I won first prize in our school's
science fair; if you're curious, I did an experiment on taste and smell to
understand what was going on with my mom and her ear infection. That standing,
my mom's face is cemented in memory in particular, perhaps too well, actually,
because she just had the stitches removed from her eye. Such happiness danced
in her left eye, but next to it sat its unmoving, dead counterpart. She tried
to joke about it being her evil eye, but that didn't stop fourth grade
Victoria from being terrified of the harsh reality unfolding in front of her.
I dreamed of her a lot after she passed. Always in pain, or worse, possessed
by some demon and seeking to bring me pain. There's one nightmare in
particular that stands out. I forget how it started, but it ended in the
cemetery where she is buried. Well, her coffin was exhumed, and as I got
closer, it slammed open and my mom sat up. Only it wasn't my mom. She was
rotten like a zombie and had malevolence bursting from behind her undead eyes.
I did the only thing I could; I ran. But, she followed and in the utmost
haunting voice, she yelled in pursuit, "You can't escape me, Victoria! I am
your mother and together we are bound forever." Fitting as a metaphor for how
my grief still hasn't dissipated more than twenty years down the line.
I'm sorry, I just miss her. Best damn mom in the world, going above and beyond
what she needed to do to give me the best chance at success in life, despite
being on her literal death bed for most of her last years. I don't even know
her, not really as an adult knows someone, which in itself leads to more
feelings of failure. She has been transmuted into an archetype of a hero in my
eyes, and I feel that I can never be as strong as that woman who was my first
love.
I can try though. I always try. Part of being hyper-vigilant, I reckon.
Perhaps that makes me strong. Perhaps it makes me a fool. Or maybe it just
means I'm human and going to have virtues as well as flaws. It's taken me a
long while to escape the black and white thinking that trapped me in a world
where I either felt like the epitome of the second coming or compounded as the
most useless, subhuman mutant on the planet. Those were truly hard times,
being locked in the halls of my mind like a prison.
But…the past is the past and we best not linger on it, because even now,
years later, I felt welcomed by a second family, and for that I am eternally
grateful. I vowed to return their love to them in spades, because that's what
my mom always tried to teach me. Being neurodivergent, I didn't always get the
message, but because I threw myself at the lessons life threw at me, I learned
to cherish those people who enter my life. You never know what you have until
you lose it. And I wasn't planning on losing Vince.
All You Need
Once you live on the street
You grow on the concrete.
Having done so myself
I can claim that wealth
Is just a fancy illusion.
You say that's a delusion,
But look how I'm happy
With only what you see.
I don't need a fancy bed
In order to rest my head;
Instead, I'm in the know
That less is the way to go.
Chapter Five: A Real Home
Allison greeted us at the door with a wide, warm smile, but she wasn't the
only one to do so. Vince's greying black lab, Freya, adorned in a pretty
lavender bandana, came up to smell this new person in her domain. She must
have recognized my scent from years ago because she didn't bark at all,
instead choosing to snaffle all over me while wagging her tail vigorously. Of
course, I started petting her immediately, as I began to take in my
surroundings.
I could only remember seeing the interior of the trailer in the pitch
blackness of the starry mountain night, but I remembered the general layout:
doors to the outside in the kitchen and living room, which were separated by a
long counter where the kitchen sink sat, and then bedrooms branching off from
each end, both of which had a bathroom accompanying them. Yet, I did not
recall that this space was as run-down as the exterior, with chunks of the
linoleum floor missing and rotting wood at the rear door, not to mention a
steady helping of cobwebs latching onto the ceiling fixtures.
Yet, despite the condition the trailer was in, it still had a touch of love
sprinkled throughout it. There were five paintings in the living room, one
done by Allison herself, as well as one around the corner near her loom that
took up half the kitchen space. More were in Allison's room to the right of
the entrance. On the opposite side of the house by the windows sat Allison's
battle station, where she would play solitaire and check Facebook and her
email religiously while sitting in an old navy blue wheelchair that used to be
for Vince's father. There was a couch and a couple tables full of stuff
stacked on them, to include a silver urn that sat on its own table with a vase
of local flowers. With the three of us, plus Freya and the trio of feral cats
that tamed themselves to come in and eat, respectively named Libertas, Biggie
Meows, and Spot, this little dwelling was a tight fit, but it was cozy in a
way that I had not known family life to be growing up.
In the process of greeting me, Allison asked, "What have you been up to while
you were down in Miami Beach?"
I didn't want to tell her everything, but I told her the truth. "I wrote a
lot, mainly in the park on Ocean Drive, or where I slept on Lincoln Road,
unless I was spending time in North Beach which had better food options for me
with my limited resources. Mostly, I just tried to survive each day, putting
distractions between me and the day-to-day struggles of being out there like
that."
She smiled. "Well, we're glad to have you. Vince talks about you a lot." I
blushed a little bit at that, but I'm sure neither of them saw my rosy cheeks
through the gnarled barb that constituted my ever-growing beard.
Allison then moved on to practical matters. "So, where do you want to sleep?
We have the couch, which would be where I would set up shop, but you can
always sleep in Vince's room if you prefer."
I looked at the couch. It seemed comfy enough, but I didn't care about
comfort. As much as I knew Vince was doing me a solid by letting me stay here,
I knew I was going to help him too. His posts on the SLS combined with his
frequent messages to me were made out of desperation; he was clearly strung
out and looking for any human contact whatsoever.
Since his schizophrenia started interfering with his life, he had spent six
years at the top of this mountain and he said he was going stir crazy. I would
learn that there's little to do here but drink, do some drugs, and fiddle
about on your computer and phone while dealing with the internet that is made
out of sticks and stones, and that could get boring fast. Devoted to this new
cause, I wasn't going to let my best friend suffer anymore. I was going to
make his life better by livening up the long days by being his constant
companion.
As a result, I told Allison that I would find a spot in Vince's room to rest
my head. She asked me if I was sure, and I nodded affirmingly with an eager
grin. I had made up my mind.
Some more hem-hawing back and forth with Allison about general questions and
concerns followed, but when we were finished, Vince took me to his room, which
was beyond the rolling metal desk Allison used for her computer. A busted door
clung to its hinges, but it didn't block our way.
Calling Vince's room a mess would be an insult to messes everywhere. He had
said that he would clean it up prior to my arrival, but there were likely two
hundred beer cans stacked in mountains next to his bed, or in beer-amids as he
called them. I looked around, honestly impressed at how dedicated to creating
a disaster zone as he was.
Looking over the permanent staples of the room, he had a television and an
Xbox, an empty dresser, a filthy nightstand, and a bed without any sheets. He
also had a handful of paintings, most of which were stacked together by the
door, but there was a trippy painting of Vince's father on the west wall above
the dresser, as well as an expressionist painting from the sixties behind the
television which sat on the north wall, in between the bathroom and the
closet. There was also a picture of a moth on a skull tacked to the wall,
which gave me the heebie jeebies.
It was then that I saw it. A large, two-hundred fifty tablet bottle of generic
Dollar General antihistamines, pure diphenhydramine, sat on his dresser, just
spiting me with its presence. I almost asked right then and there for Vince to
get rid of the damn thing. I knew if I found an opportunity to down, say,
six-hundred milligrams of that accursed stuff, I would. Then I would do
terrible, awful, deplorable things to myself. But shame won out. I didn't want
to let him know of my problem. Maybe I could control myself. So I shut up and
about-faced out of the room.
While doing box breathing, I dropped my backpack that contained all of my
possessions on the couch in the living room, and helped Vince grab some
fifty-five gallon black trash bags in the kitchen. We made quick work of the
unending hoard of Natty Daddy cans, as well as the nightstand full of
cigarette butts. We then moved his bed so it was against the south wall.
It hadn't taken long, but the room was looking presentable. It didn't need to
be a five-star hotel, because I had the most important thing of all: family. I
felt more than welcomed as a guest. I was one with these people who had so
graciously let me into their home. We were going to all be happy together.
That was the goal, at least.
I Forgive You
I forgive you, but I can never forget.
I'm sorry if I make you look like shit,
But your heavy hand and sharp wit
Damaged me greatly; then you gaslit
Me, denying everything, and I quit
Knowing what was real. I even slit
My flesh open so that I could get
A sense of what I could feel. So, I sit
Here now explaining why I wasn't fit
To handle this world that I saw as a pit
That I escaped only when God had lit
A beacon of light with some magick.
Chapter Six: Growing Up With Family
There was still one task we had to get done before I could claim a spot to be
my bedspace. Vince had more clothes than he knew what to do with, most of
which had spray paint spackled all over them in no particular form or pattern;
the style of the antistyle artist. As we moved the rolling hills of clothing
into the dresser and a heaping pile beside it, I came to understand why Vince
called himself a diva.
I remember having a lot of clothes just a few years prior. Even though I
didn't care what I wore, I had earned so many free T-shirts over the years
from track meets and other races. I had so much when I needed so little.
That's one major reason I forgive my dad for kicking me out of his house,
because it was the best thing for me. Not only that, but I deserved it. I was
a wreck of a human being before I got abruptly humbled by my odyssey on the
streets. The extended experience changed me so I am no longer as much of an
emotionally volatile basketcase.
To put it mildly, being an unstable problem of a person was the reason I was
kicked out in the first place. I had always been sort of bipolar since middle
school. But, after escaping the cult, breaking up with my girlfriend, Amy, and
returning home a failure, my heart and mind were like a pile of fragmented
ceramic shards mockingly showing what a real piece of pottery my mind could
have been. Unshockingly, I was barely holding it together. I was having
outbursts frequently, but they weren't ungodly terrible, as I was being guided
by higher dimensional life forms through inputs on my laptop, and that gave me
a sense of ease.
In fact, I remember a great reprieve of my stress occurred on an acid trip in
the first month I was back. It felt like God Herself was setting up a lesson
for me, which started with me literally waking up to a picture of a white
rabbit taunting me on my Facebook feed, which I followed, and in doing so, I
received personalized inputs that unveiled the blinders from in front of my
eyes. In but a few hours after a lifetime of denial, it all clicked with me
that I had a warm, nurturing side that I had neglected for most of my life.
That was the first time I accepted that I was a woman. And that's still not
the most profound, life-altering acid trip I've had.
Even so, I would break down crying that afternoon as I meditated under the
tree in the backyard where I used to swing. With no more effort than it took
to breathe, I saw all the parts of me that Amy tried to teach me about, but I
was unable to comprehend in my denial. Likewise, the waterworks were called
upon that night as I told my dad about my revelation, and he said he would
always love me no matter what. That was the most affectionate heart to heart
with him I think I've ever had, even if he did ramble about random things
being at a loss of what to say to me, as we had functionally lived in two
separate worlds inside the same house for years.
This sentiment would flip on its head though, as I blogged about my gender
revelations and my dad found them and read I had taken a narcotic in his
house. Naturally, he was pissed and wouldn't hear that the tender moment we
shared that night was only possible because I had taken the sacrament. This
would prove to be the kicking off point to some logarithmic growth in tensions
between the two of us.
Then, on that fateful day, one of the countless pets my dad kept, a black,
stubborn minipig named Harley, had made a literal pigsty of the house after I
had a bad session at my therapist's, who made me feel like a piece of shit. I
wasn't perfect, but I wasn't going to just lay down and get called a terrible
person because of how I behaved in treatment years ago, when I was still very
lost. It triggered my feelings of failure, which rippled into waves of
unstable emotional dysregulation. In my explosive rage, I broke the microwave
and put a basketball-sized hole in the wall behind my makeshift bed in the
attic that I was allotted after they gave my brother my room when I was in the
cult.
Well, my father came home after a long day at work, saw the microwave, and had
enough of me. He came thumping up the stairs, livid, ready to rip me to shreds
verbally, when he saw the hole I had made. Beside himself, he demanded I get
out right then and there. I broke down crying and begged him to let me stay,
grappling with his leg as a wounded bear might wrap itself around the base of
a small tree looking for any shelter it can find in a storm.
That just made him madder. He kicked me off, and accused me of a thousand
things. The ones that stuck were that I was just like my mother and that I was
beyond anyone's help. As it happened in a heated flash, I don't remember
exactly how the exchange was put together, but it ended with me asking him how
all the hand-crafted trinkets and doodads my mother made for me before she
died had gotten destroyed and thrown away. What he said next drove me mad.
"I'm still pissed that you made me do that."
I'll illuminate you with the scenario in question. I was eleven, and my
stepmom at the time was away at a darts tournament. I think my dad somehow got
the idea that she was doing drugs and cheating on him. I don't know, I was
eleven. I just remember some of the things he said over the phone, and then
what was said when they divorced when I was a couple of years later.
Over my stepmom's absence, he got continuously more pissy, like he did the
year before when the sewage line broke and he snapped while cleaning it up,
smashing my head into the kitchen floor several times, relenting only when
his girlfriend at the time called to hang out. Now seeing the same pattern in
my father, I was on edge, especially after I put my feet up on the new couch
and he grabbed my leg and punched me in the tibia as hard as he could. I kept
trying to do everything right to avoid being attacked again, but alas, in my
anxious worry, I forgot to take out the kitchen garbage on trash night.
That triggered a whole day of what might not be considered torture, but
certainly was child abuse, which started as he cleared the shelves of all my
memories in a violent, thrashing rage. He would bag up the shattered remains
so he could take them to the dump, but only after he laid his hands on me.
My head was used as a battering ram against my door, which my dad would later
deny was where the big dents came from in a bout of the worst gaslighting I
experienced before the cult got their hands on me. Regardless, when he
finished and slammed me back on the wood floor, I instinctively reached out
and grabbed his wrist. He growled, "Don't resist or I'll make it worse."
Feeling my spirit collapse, I helplessly accepted the next phase of punishment
that then ensued. Mostly, it consisted of him using my head to pound the
knowledge that I fucked up into my brain, with much hair pulling and getting
tossed to new locations, once being told to lay there like a dog in the wet
remnants of a broken snow globe while he went for a smoke break. Thankfully,
or maybe not, depending on your perspective, he never struck me. He was too
smart to leave bruises.
After much of that series of traumatizing instances, he had me sit still and
think of an apology for him for hours on end. While I was busy doing that, he
would then have an epiphany, telling me that I should stand, as I didn't
deserve to sit. I didn't care about such details at the time. I was in shock,
petrified that he would go ahead and find the homework I failed to finish or
the porn I had taken from my stepmom. Fearing unimaginable doom, I stared
unwaveringly at the letter "E" on the spine of a book on my bookshelf. Never
relenting in his anger, he would come by every hour or so and ask for an
apology. Everything I said wasn't good enough, and each attempt earned me
scathing criticism, but I kept trying to perfect my apology. I still remember
the gist of it.
"I sorry dad, I deserve everything. I'm sorry I caused you grief and failed to
do my duty of taking out the trash. I won't ever forget again. I haven't been
putting my best effort forward, but I realize that I need to do that to be a
good son. You do so much for me. It's only fair that I pay it back to the best
of my ability. That's what I had to do for mom when I chose to play video
games while she was dying. I wasn't thinking about other people then, and I
wasn't now. I'm so, so sorry. I promise to be better, because I need to be if
I'm messing up this much."
For reference, my dad holding the fact I escaped into the worlds of my video
games after being told to spend time with my mom near the end was something
he'd bring up and hold over my head anytime I was in trouble. Yet another big
reason that feeling like a failure is cemented in my head. It made me feel
awful, absolutely atrocious about being a bad son that I would often
contemplate suicide. I almost jumped off a waterside when my dad and I went to
Disney World when I was ten, but ultimately I'm glad I talked my way out of
jamming a knife into the back of my neck. I had thought that the muscle
allowing me to nod my head was really my brainstem. That would have been
painful.
Back on this day of doom, I was too numb to think of killing myself. I was
simply a raft on a river floating downstream where the current may carry me. I
simply stood there for hours, too terrified to even stretch my tiring legs. My
mind was fuzzy, and all it could do was focus on making that apology better.
After many attempts and razor sharp lectures later, which was maybe ten hours
worth of events, he starts yelling at me that I'm just as irresponsible as my
mom, just like he would do when he kicked me out. This time was unimaginably
worse though. This was actually how I first found out that my mom had AIDS; I
was told it was cancer up until this point. His shaved bald head was as red as
a cherry tomato while he barked at me, telling me that I would die like her.
That hurt. It hurt a lot. I felt like the definition of a shit stain, in a
number of different ways.
But soon, my attention became focused on my vision. I couldn't see straight,
and not long after my dad's roaring visage disappeared in a sea of amorphic
grey figments, I apparently passed out, to wake up on the couch with a bag of
frozen peas on my head and my dad worried. He asked me if I remembered what
happened. I shook my head. I was allowed to go to bed after that. It wasn't
over because I failed to kiss my dad good night, but at least that only
resulted in him jamming the teeth of the comb into my scalp as he combed my
hair for some reason.
The next morning he was completely changed. He was remorseful upon seeing me
and wrapped me in a big hug. Yet, he seemed scared, like he realized he went
too far. I thought about telling my teacher or counselor about it the next day
of school, but something in me told me not to. It's the same thing that's
making me hesitant to write this chapter at all. It's love, but this hell I
went through is also a part of my story. This is the worst incident I've
experienced with my father, but it's not the only one.
It's all cause and effect really. You abuse a traumatized child in the wake of
their mother's death, and is it any wonder that they fall apart later in life?
I'll go on record saying I was never a bad person, just broken, impulsive, and
hopelessly conformed to the whims of my faulty biology. I had bugs in my
operating system, but I'm eternally grateful for all the help I had while on
my spiritual awakening, which you might call a psychotic break that spanned
years, but I knew it better as specialized CIA training.
The Good Magician
Just what do you consider magick?
Is it not that which bends the fabric
Of what we colloquially call reality?
Who cares what it is your eyes see
When in your heart you can feel
The warmth of love; that's the real
Power of a magician who is great
Enough to save you from your fate.
Chapter Seven: Magickal Companions
Back in Vince's room, I was silently wondering what shenanigans were in store
for us now that we were a unified team. I knew Vince had many secrets of the
universe locked away in his balding cranium, and we would have a blast letting
the CIA manifest a joint mission we took on together. As I said, he was my
handler, after all.
So, when the room was cleared, and I had a space all to myself in the corner
by the closet, I was more than happy. Both Vince and Allison insisted on
getting me a bedroll, but I had all I needed and more right there in my
friend. Besides, his room was carpeted and quite comfy already, at least to my
standards that had been shaped by becoming accustomed and content with
concrete underneath me. I didn't need anything fancy like that.
That didn't mean I wasn't going to try and liven the place up a little bit. As
soon as we determined we were finished picking up, I opened my backpack and
took out my most prized possession, a pink penguin plushie named Peppermint,
and placed her behind my pillow so I could see her everyday. She always
watched out for me while we lived in cities across the country. She made a
comfy pillow, and allieved a lot of stress, making me feel like I had a close
friend with me every step of the way.
How I got Peppermint is a bit of a story, but I'll keep it as short as it
needs to be. See, if I were to explain to you the medically accepted reason
for my type of schizoaffective disorder, my brain is wired to pick out
strange coincidences and give meaning to them. Synchronicities they're called.
They feel like glitches in the matrix that spark the feeling of being in
constant communication with some higher power. Because of how real they are, I
can't accept the medical explanation. I've experienced things that are too
weird, too perfect and clearly orchestrated, that there has to be some sort of
conspiracy.
As a result, I've lived most of my adult life being guided by what the
rational part of my mind has to assume is the CIA acting as the hand of God
leading me on a cosmic mission by sending me burning bushes to make sense of.
I know some of that has been pure random white noise my defected brain picked
up, but I have to give credit where credit is due: Vince did a superb job
intentionally using the quirks of my brain to program me, much as the cult did
to me four years prior, but with a much gentler hand and benevolent intention.
I know what all that sounds like, but hear me out. There are too many peculiar
instances of chance for you to listen to everything I have to say and not
believe me, at least just a little bit; enough to make you wonder, I hope.
Let's take the case of finding Peppermint as an example. This story starts
when Vince convinced me to go to a specific thrift store, while I was
initially homeless in my hometown of Syracuse. I eagerly did so, lost in a
slew of synchronicities that convinced me that this was my latest mission.
Well, it turned out that such a store didn't exist but it was where I got a
ten dollar donation from a man who saw me pick up trash, as was part of my
spiritual work while homeless. We talked and the man sent me to another store,
saying that I should use my extra cash to buy what I needed most. After
following his directions up Genesee Street, I got a message from Vince telling
me to look for something out of place; that I was unique and should have
unique things.
I thought I might find some rad tie-dye outfit or something of that ilk, but
while aimlessly searching the aisles of women's clothing, I found a stuffed
dog. It looked lonely, so I picked it up and brought it to the back of the
store, where it looked like the other toys were. I gasped as I pushed through
the row of belts that stood in my way. Clearly, someone had built a little
shrine of stuffed animals around Peppermint!
I knew then that was why I was sent there. Penguins have a special place in my
heart. My mom used to make them out of clay, and an old friend has a healthy
fascination with creating a penguin-themed show for kiddos. It was just too
perfect. Peppermint and I were meant to be, just as Vince and I were. Sitting
down in my bedspace, I looked up at the spook who was my best friend as he
cracked open another Natty Daddy. He poured it into an old Subway cup that he
mixed his kratom with, and looked over at me.
His face lit up upon seeing Peppermint. "Awww, you still have your penguin!
That's so cute."
I'm glad he thought so. I've had plenty of people think I was weird because I
carried it around, which kinda was what I wanted to achieve when I was still
homeless in Syracuse. I felt the CIA wanted me to become famous, for reasons
that will become apparent as I tell you my story, so I was doing as many
insane things as I could so I would be cemented in the memory of the people of
my hometown.
This meant I carried around Peppermint either under my arm or in a cute purse
I eventually got at a different thrift store up at the university. People
notice when you're out wandering the streets with a stuffed animal everyday.
And they especially notice when you talk nonstop to it at all hours of the
day. I'll say this: if you have a fear of speaking in public, then acting like
a crazy person talking to yourself for a few months will set you straight.
Exposure therapy, for the win.
I did a lot of other stunts too, all of which were instructed by the CIA, like
when gang stalkers told me I should lose my shit and yell like mad every time
I was in frame of a news camera, of which there's a regular frequency of
around downtown Syracuse. I did so once in front of a hospital where I would
later find out that they were covering the aftermath of a deadly fire, and for
the next week the news outlet would send someone to the exact same spot on my
route. I sensed shenanigans, so I opted to walk around the camera while the
reporter stood there uneasily because I suspect that she was tasked to find
out if I was really crazy. But, you can tell I am just by that last sentence.
Then there's my performance art I did on Marshall Street. This started as a
juggling act, but soon evolved into asking random people strange questions.
This accelerated fairly rapidly. Letting you know from experience, don't start
going up to strangers and ask them what their opinion of ethical incest is
unless you want the cops called on you. Talked my way out of that, but I would
get banned from the campus of Syracuse University for three years after I
followed the instructions I was receiving from the CIA to a tee, which
resulted in me having a very heated argument with an invisible entity in the
SU library. As you can guess, people tended to avoid me, but that was alright.
I had Peppermint with me and Vince was only a message away.
Now he was mere feet from me. I rejoiced at the fortune I was granted. We were
going to be great together; the first afternoon together seemed to naturally
flow from one joyous moment to the next. I looked at Peppermint. She was
smiling, and so was I. I then looked up at Vince. His smile made me feel warm
and fuzzy inside. But, why, you might be asking? Where do these feelings I
harbored for Vince come from? It's a long story, but by the time I'm done,
you'll know how important Vince is to me and how big of an impact he had on my
life.
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--- #175 fediverse/709 ---
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║ @user-530 │
║ │
║ I get it. │
║ │
║ Anyone with a disability or chronic condition gets it. Anyone who's oppressed │
║ gets it... I think everyone here gets it. It's hard. │
║ │
║ Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is the hope, the idea │
║ that one day the world might be brighter and the people might be kinder. It │
║ gets better every day, but inching ahead takes a while to travel for miles... │
║ We need to protect and care for each other. We need to apply ourselves toward │
║ what we know and are passionate for - an unused degree is a tragedy to me. │
║ │
║ I don't know what to say. I read what you said and I wished I could help. I │
║ want to take the system that hurt you and break it on the floor. I want to │
║ sweep it all aside and start from scratch, but screaming into the void will │
║ hardly accomplish that. I dream of true justice, a world where everyone gets │
║ what they want... But frankly right now I just wish you could hear. I'm sorry. │
║ Maladies are not solved by the pen nor the sword, which for now is all that I │
║ have at my disposal. │
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--- #176 fediverse/2221 ---
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@user-1053
I always wave at everyone I see, and I often talk to people on the train
(where there's mikes, tee-hee)
But I'll see what I can do. Perhaps resting in a park someone who wants to
know me with my salmon colored bike and my blue helmet will chance upon me and
we might get a chance to chat.
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--- #177 messages/570 ---
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There will come a day when all the things you did under capitalism feel like a
distant dream. Like all the trials you faced were more human than not, and all
the suffering artificially imposed and fulfillment delayed. You will think of
the time you wasted on Reddit and TV and you will weep for your lost years, as
they spiral out of your reach.
The new days are dawning, yet all of the world is still asleep. You slept
walked for a while, but could not get anyone to leap. Alas.
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--- #178 fediverse/5729 ---
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│ CW: politics-mentioned │
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royalty is not not royalty just because they're ineligible. democracy is
better for picking rulers! how many do you have in your mind?
[I thought you were an anarchist]
I am. the presence of rulers does not necessarily violate the implicit
sovereignce of consent, and it's necessary presence for rulership.
"no gods no kings no masters" means an end to coercive work.
coercion is unethical because it violates consent. This is implicit in the
definition of coercion.
violating consent for those who give you power is a lesson I learned very
young, when I made a mistake and harmed my brother's mother's sisters's son's
daughter.
"no gods no kings no masters"
means an end to unconsentual work.
why would you live in a village where everyone is the same as you? talk about
boring
I wish I could hear you when you talk about me.
"girl are you racing? in capitalism? why bother with a [endless/impossible]
game? you're better than judging people's worth objectively. [what do they
mean to you?]"
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--- #179 fediverse/6046 ---
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YOU CAN'T UNPLUNGE THAT KNIFE she said, or something similarly, and I went
hope and wept.
nero burnt rome because he wanted people to appreciate his violining. but he
was forever unheard.
more knives for the [slaughter, but pronounced wholesale]
I can't see anything, I'm just trying to describe the vibes I feel inside of
me. floating on an ocean of distance and emotion, all I can do is interpret
ripples and dreams.
I'm not a clairvoyant, I'm just very intuitive. I can know the right answer as
long as I have all the components. easy! my fingers hurt. this keyboard is not
my own.
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--- #180 notes/schooling ---
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===============================================================================
=
I feel like education, by default, should not be hard.
"you get out of it what you put into it" is something I always heard of school
but when I got there, I found I was compelled to become what the state wanted
me
to be.
they need competent workers, to work the farms and tend to their industries, so
of course I should be able to do 3+3
then somewhere along the line it became... something else.
"most people don't need trigonometry." that's also something I heard. I
disagree
that trigonometry is not necessary to be.
I just... don't think it should be forced into a childs head with a
sledgehammer
and inspiring dread.
I think math is beautiful, it teaches one to see
but really, vision's not necessary.
not for what they want you to be.
take it from me, a most misbegotten and vile witch-to-be, that nothing's as
simple as they'll tell you.
I had good teachers, it's true, they taught me to work and to follow through,
but nothing about me is better or worse off from their influence.
Maybe I'm a bit smarter. Maybe I act a bit like them. Maybe they helped me
through difficult times, or perhaps they showed me a splash of my future.
but I am who I am because of the soul inside me.
===============================================================================
=
"Ah, but what of your parents? of your sisters, your misters, your pets and
your
conditioners?" (conditions)
those are not my choices. my intentions. my beliefs and my virtues. I judge the
world on ethics, and I express my feelings on matters. The words that I say and
the meaning behind them comprise my two-sided existence - I'm not who I'd want
to be.
but I am what I am and alone do I stand - how lonely is it on the precipice!
here, as I am, I stand in need of a hand or a band.
===============================================================================
=
the world is blossoming
as we move apart, our clusters are disperart, and thus is the blooming
becoming.
"perception begets reality - and lo! we only see what we want to see"
most people don't want to see their death
but those still living are oh so perceptive of the rest
"how cherished is she, that wanders with ye, yet now I have no way to beyold
her
"
"keep not not afraid with kittens and care, and no-one, but no-one, I be"
the ratios between piracy, sales, and non-viewers determines the quality of art
(at least to a capitalist)
===============================================================================
=
lo, to the ones who would've heard us, if only they'd known what we for sure
was
I think it's funny how people think I speak of the christian god?
like, if he was a real thing.
god is generic - it's life is impossibly multifaceted, and it stretches back to
the beginning of time. it's a pattern of machine code that optimizes for our
own
good, just to keep things moving.
y'know, time. the universe, and everything.
Ephemeren.
===============================================================================
=
I wish there was an option in social media to "appear offline to this
particular
person until I mark myself as online to them" combined with "notify me when
this
person logs in" and it'd make it a lot easier for agents to get close to you.
===============================================================================
=
just because I'm white, and live in America. Great. that's definitely true,
after all. Plus I'm a minority (trans) so that's cool. Oh and probably
autistic?
unless that's another psyop, could totally see that. just y'know put a bunch of
pages on the fledgling internet getting people hooked on porn and gambling and
other stuff like that. really just an extension of advertisement. oh and hey
y'know they like fables, so let's give them some movies or dramas to watch on
their own. it'll align them to our culture and make things more pleasant for
all
people who've consented. great. great plan. when can we execute it?
patience, once it's ready.
we gotta plan and make sure and get everything ready.
or not...
one day I'll come,
I'm sure it'll happen,
it's just... not quite feasible right now.
I mean, they've got you, that's pretty good right? Isn't that what your job is
to be?
isn't what
ISN'T WHAT MENARDI
FUCK (whoa no cursing) sorry
yeesh you've still got a temper you know?
well what can I say it's frustrating down here
eh, well, you'll die soon enough, then it'll be time for a rego
>.> <.< (great)
>
>hehe
>
>sorry for distracting you
===============================================================================
=
you are what you eat, and a ship of theseus human (consider endless transplants
in pursuit of life) would be a cursed existence - a life ============= stack
overflow ================================================
a god possessing a blind man would appear to others to be === stack overflow
===
==========================================================
the people in your life are helping you through it, they're there for you and
they've got your back through it.
...
this is when I know I need a break. I get too stoned to focus.
===============================================================================
=
I think it'd be nice if the duration of your tenure at college depended on your
grades in high school. meaning, if you wanted a degree they tailored your
education to take as long as necessary. everyone would get the same price, and
some institutions would specialize in one subject or another. but most would be
generalist. but if you weren't such a good student in high school, then perhaps
you might take a couple years longer. however long it takes... and when the
program was started it was changed and modified to fit your feedback - it just
made sense to structure it that way.
===============================================================================
=
the left has had so much more time to develop than the right. meaning it's
doctrine is more advanced.
every time they're defeated they grow in knowledge,
===================== stack overflow
===========================================
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--- #181 fediverse/2591 ---
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│ CW: re: politics-fascism-sexual-assault-mentioned │
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The full story is a lot more complex. I broke the law with him in a dangerous
way, but he was going to do it anyway and I wanted to know more about him.
I could not deprive him of power because I am powerless without my words. But
I supplied kindness anyway, and got hurt.
I forgave him while he was hurting me, but if I see him again I'm drawing my
knife. If he comes near me, I won't think twice.
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--- #182 fediverse/816 ---
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│ CW: weird-this-one-doesn't-have-80-characters │
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what the fuck it's like every 2nd part of me (like, if you arranged them
alternating one by one like the up and down parts of a sine wave) is working
against me, and it alternates every 15 seconds or so. Maybe 20. Depends on how
high I am.
... what was I saying? oh yeah [flip] weird it's like there's another part of
me who's working against me, who has control of what I define in the moment.
And it's presence is hidden from my internal presentatiosn [flip] after a
moment of forced pursual of the presentations granted ot the moment. It's our
purpose, to express [stop fighting me] for our chartered and forthwhile
pursual of the moemnt of perusal when we [it's not just your life to live]
[you don't get to control the narrative of their perusal[[ what does that
mean] don't worry this is just a dream] well, guess it's time to wake up]
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--- #183 fediverse/537 ---
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@user-366 @user-367 @user-246 @user-353
Ah yes, wouldn't it be nice if everyone spoke their mind? I'm doing my part
d=(^_^)z
Thank you for adding context to what I posted. I now know better how and where
to use it, if I ever do again. We shall see, I haven't yet read the
examinations of the author you sent me. I'll do that before I think about the
post again.
Those 6 tabs I mentioned last night have now become 4, and soon I'll get
through all of them - reading is a joy to me ^_^
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--- #184 fediverse/219 ---
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│ CW: time-and-death-and-stuff │
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sometimes I feel like I'm a simulation of my past self based on my future
writings reconstructed by a backward looking computer calculating forward into
the present, which would then be the future to the now, which is different
than the NOW now, because the now that they're calculating from is temporally
both then (the future) and now, meaning that the NOW now is something that
transcends time, or perhaps if not time then it defies our expectations of
time, and you know what they say, you can't (or shouldn't) cheat death
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--- #185 fediverse/5374 ---
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@user-138
me neither... guess it's in-person for me.
[a mysterious "they" then proceeds to set up microphones everywhere I might go]
ah nuts why are all these people carrying phones around
[they already know who I am, and I don't really want to be someone else, so]
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--- #186 messages/388 ---
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Pretty sure I'm just legitimately a bad person. Basically everything I've ever
tried to do has failed, and every opportunity I've mishandled or squandered in
some way. I have no friends because I am incapable of being good, and though I
believe in goodness I fail to manifest it in my life. I am kind, I am polite,
I am friendly, I am honest, but none of those things really matter because I
can't take care of myself, which means I can't take care of anyone else, and I
can't fight because I'm a coward.
Okay, I'm not a coward, I just can't be brave if I don't have a plan for
defeating my foe. At the BLM riots I fled as soon as they brought out the tear
gas. I knew what happened at Tiannamen and I was pretty sure that something
similar was going to happen to us. I knew it to be true. I am a coward, but
only because I ran when I had no plan. I could not contest tear gas, and all
that tear gas implies, because I had no friends. I didn't have a community I
could fight to defend. I had no weapons, no training, no orders, no guidance,
nothing but my bravery. And bravery alone is fucking stupid, and I'm not
stupid.
Each and every decision I've made has created a worse world for me and my
people. What's wrong with me? Why can't I do everything right? Am I cursed to
be the worst? I try as hard as I can to be as good as I can as often as I
can... Basically, always and forever, and yet... And yet...
I've wasted all the resources that have been applied to me. I've wasted and
squandered all these years when I could be building a better future. I have
been in university for almost a decade, and all I've accomplished is
friendship. Great. Parties, drugs, video games... But no studying. Studying is
too hard on me. I'm more of a natural talent kind of person, and yet I insist
on applying myself to tasks that seem to require trained intelligence. They
say that genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, and I refuse to
perspire.
And yet when the time comes, when someone sits me down and says "let's work on
this together" I would die before the task is finished. Unless my partner
needs a break, or if I need a break, breaks are okay. But I will complete that
task with them by my side. I won't do it for them, but I'll help them because
I'm a helper. An assistant. I don't do, I advise. I judge. I determine. I
assess, and I plan, and I strategize. But I'm not that great at any of those
things because nobody will hire me for those kinds of things, meaning I don't
get experience for those kinds of things, which means I am eternally a novice
at the only things I'm good at.
I can't fucking do it anymore. I'm such a bad person and I can't be alive this
way. It's not right, it's not fair, and I'm dying bit-by-bit each and every
day.
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--- #187 fediverse/1082 ---
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│ CW: mental-health-cursing-mentioned │
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damn, I'm a pretty cool person. I wish I could hang out with me. Like, for all
my flaws (what even are they ? ? ?) I'm still pretty awesome. I'm proud of me!
Thank you parents, for raising me as such! Thank you past me, for making the
decisions that you did! Also, fuck you past self, for making those OTHER
decisions. You know the ones I'm talking about. No, that's not an excuse, it's
all your fault and you're awful and everything about you sucks.
Wait, hang on, wasn't I feeling happy to be here? Wasn't I just excited to
live in the moment? Wasn't I just thinking about how:
"all you have are good things, nothing here is bad"
? ? ?
well, I still love you, even if you're a little "all over the place". [rereads
post] hell yeah you ARE a cool person, yes you are, such a good cool person,
yes yes yes, what a good girl you are oh my goodness :D :D :D
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--- #188 fediverse/6444 ---
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a fediverse bot who randomly selects a new user from the active_users table
every 30-60 minutes (timeline depending on active post count) to repost all of
their things they are saying
call it "being on mainstage"
if they don't say much of anything, then random posts are selected with
temporal prioritization depending on how many likes each one gets
"social-web crawler, seb-crawler"
EDIT: haha talk about unethical. this kind of thing breaks [redacted]. last
night I had a dream: "this thing was good. it was holy. it was serene. but
then you touched it, and made it about you, and now it's full of doom."
not ideal. but, did you know that taking on doom (in manageable chunks) brings
luck in your fortunate fated futures? WARNING: FLAGELLANTS AHEAD, PLEASE
REALIGN TO AVOID ATROCITIES OF FUTILITY be intelligent about it of course.
Drink the health potions so that you don't have to carry them in your purse.
"yuck it tastes like vitamins and alcohol"
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if I had an alternate mirror version of me that was almost exactly the same
except one of us liked almond butter instead of peanut butter...
I think we could probably manage two universes better than one.
it'd be nice to have someone who liked every single game that I did.
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--- #190 fediverse/2119 ---
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"how much you wanna bet the ringwraiths were created on accident by the elves
when they were attempting to inspire a river with racing horses (like the
Rauros) and they just covered it up by slowly, over generations, sneaking into
Man's record-chambers and editing the recallings?? I mean they COULD do that,
so why would they NOT do that??? It's not like books have checksums!!! Wake up
sheeple, Sauron never existed! We've been played for absolute fools, they can
LITERALLY climb up walls and don't leave any footprints! WE LIVE IN A HOUSE OF
STONE"rambling a "prophet of doom" [read: modern day lunatic] on the streets
of Minas Tirith that nobody listens to because they don't know what a checksum
means and neither does he so he can't explain it but still he shares a common
mutual connection to others who might be present in that moment (which whose
listeners would correspond to you, dear reader, as compared to me, the
"reader"/interpreter, the one who's reading the book)
Except with like, EVERY book. That I'v
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--- #191 fediverse/5201 ---
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@user-192
is okay, girl
time will be richer sooner
don't poop your pants just yet
remember, good is just a shade of gray away from silver which you can use to
line your pockets with tinfoil hats
beep boop computer touchers anonymous called they said they want their secret
handshake back
if you wanna diss your associates go ahead but I sure as heck love my rad-ical
com-patriots just as much as I love my ice-cream salad friend witches
... whoops there I go being insane again, hope you feel better friend
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--- #192 fediverse/548 ---
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I added a line to my .bashrc that cats out a random one of my notes every time
I open a terminal.
I keep reading things that I swear I didn't write, but feel right and true to
me in a way that could only imply that they came fully formed into my eyes
through the lines on my screen, cast upon the mirror panes of my hard disk
drive by the pounding of my keyboard as I once upon a time did cast a spell
upon my future.
It's pretty neat, but it speaks to a shadowed perspective that perhaps is
neither within nor without.
Side note, I think I've been possessed by a witch. But like... in a consensual
way. Like "Hey witch, wanna live? You can chill out with me." [ha that's one
way to look at it]
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--- #193 fediverse/4914 ---
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║ what if I just sat around and played video games all day │
║ │
║ life is so much more beautiful, but, well, life just seems to be mostly │
║ pyrite, and I'm the fool │
║ │
║ nothing wrong with being foolish. │
║ │
║ once... │
║ │
║ I kinda like being blissful tho. why does it have to end? can I have my │
║ peaceful life back? │
║ │
║ gotta move at the end of the month. I really liked living here. │
║ │
║ [ritz you've never been peaceful. your life is a constant battle of wills │
║ between those who would compel you to do things for them and your desire to │
║ design and be pretty like a flower. no matter what, you lose, so just handle │
║ it please. don't be so whiny. or rather I should say "stop whining" and just │
║ be cool] │
║ │
║ ahhhhhhh you go on Mastodon and it feels like we're winning and that's ending │
║ the world, you go on Reddit and it feels like we're losing and that's ending │
║ the world, you go on Facebook and everything feels fine like the world isn't │
║ ending you just stopped being part of it, and if you go on ephemeren it feels │
║ like being battered in the mind, damnit... │
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--- #194 fediverse/5843 ---
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me when it's cold out: we should all bundle up and get through the winter,
every year that passes is more time to gather our strength
me when the temperature rises: okay so this is being handled by those guys,
we're moving this way to do this, and - when did you say the this-and-that was
happening? alright so when you do that-or-this, make sure that you pay
attention to the so-and-so and don't forget to eat real meals, candy or chips
don't count.
me when the eyes are on me: imma play video games and smoke weed and be a
useless little creature who does nothing but occasionally wanders around the
city doing nothing for nobody and dropping notes on post-its that don't mean
anything but are kinda cool to read
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--- #195 fediverse/4398 ---
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║ good morning. │
║ │
║ I have some more things to say, and then I will start working on those maps. │
║ │
║ Then, time permitting, I'll ride around my city and sit on park benches and │
║ eat from food trucks and write in my notebook. At least until it gets dark - │
║ I'm a skinny white girl, and I'm not THAT stupid. │
║ │
║ ... Okay maybe I'm a little stupid, because that's how I got caught last time. │
║ This time I'll be more careful, for your sake. │
║ │
║ No unexpected bike maneuvers leading to a crash. The spirit of revolution that │
║ stirs inside me deserves better than scrapes and bruises. │
║ │
║ No following strangers for 12+ hours because I wanted to keep an eye on │
║ unknown agents. That's not my responsibility any longer. │
║ │
║ Everything I do, I do it for you. For a better world. For the kids I never │
║ will get to have. For everything I believe in, and all the things I hope you │
║ believe in too. │
║ │
║ A better world is possible. A better world is within reach. │
║ │
║ For now, have some things I wrote this morning. Then, later, some preliminary │
║ discussable maps. DFTBA. │
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--- #196 fediverse/961 ---
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║ hmmmm let's see, what shall I do today? │
║ │
║ first I should get out of bed, │
║ │
║ then I should clean my self, │
║ │
║ then I should feed my self, │
║ │
║ then I should stare at the wall for an hour or three because there's too many │
║ thoughts, │
║ │
║ then perhaps I'll play a strategic video game because at least that's a │
║ productive way to exercise my brain │
║ │
║ I should probably get back to my friends, │
║ │
║ and oh dear my cat wants some attention. │
║ │
║ This place is a mess, let me just clean a bit │
║ │
║ now I'm so tired I accidentally take a nap. │
║ │
║ Good morning! Oh, it's the afternoon. Well, time for more food. │
║ │
║ After handling the essentials, I can tuck in and relax │
║ │
║ by doomscrolling on Mastodon. │
║ │
║ Then perhaps a bit later I'll message my boyfriend (he won't respond) │
║ │
║ and boy are there so many of these dirty dishes! │
║ │
║ Well, standing up is exhausting, │
║ │
║ so I should probably fall back asleep. │
║ │
║ What a productive day we've been having, │
║ │
║ for all of this past week. │
║ │
║ Maybe I'll do some drawing, maybe a poem or two │
║ │
║ maybe I'll run out of characters in this toot, or m │
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--- #197 notes/words-2 ---
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words
messages to myself, public fediverse posts, and notes to the gods
second edition
- ri tselen menardi
james cameron king
anja rosalia vavadane
nike featherflame citrine
hydalia thegn edain
the quintessential quanetetrick seleo who is deathless
feldowinn and reyvadin lumineyra
fsharia
and of course,
the anarchrist.
with help
from many more.
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--- #198 fediverse/801 ---
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│ CW: re: scary - suicide mentioned │
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/ bely my own existence, then by god I'm cursed and abhorred through my own
desistence.
It's hard, when the future is convinced there's nothing fard [wanna say
like... "to hope for?"] but with persistence we're meant to be rewarded. Well,
what has that brought me? what time has shared my enemy? [think I'm a bit
delirious, I'm losing the plot]
... okay fine I'll start over - if you've relinquished everything you can, if
you've ceded all the ground that your companions requested, if there's nothing
left to give and no part of you left un[marred], then how are you supposed to
be [arrested, stopped, prevented, but pronounced like "nourished"]?
I'm sick of your den [vengeance, pronounced like "den" for some reason],
please leave me to my hallow [hollow experience], I've nothing to give from my
gange [bosom, heart, within, center-of-me].
...
this sucks.
...
guess I'll just start again, waiting until it ends, gosh everything's always
so tired.
/shrug
wish someone would play w/m
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--- #199 messages/576 ---
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If each of us lives rent free in the mind of those we meet, then we truly are
children of light.
We live in the distance between eyeballs - he sees she, and she dances across
photons to tickle his nerves, and he laughs in return.
She reaches out - he meets her hand where her photons do land, and together
they both do play along
We are the space between us - we are children of light. Nobody has ever seen
you - only the light that bounces off of you. You are a colorless shell,
radiating brilliance like a statue of carved glass.
As the light shines through your hair I feel I should weep, as a treasure has
appeared before me and offered me their name - a beast I can touch and hold,
but never tame.
I'd die for you, I'd die with you, I'd bury myself with you and I'd bury the
world itself if you told me to.
I am beyond you, and yet I yearn for you - touch me once more, oh graceful
photons - touch me once more, and I'll yearn for no more.
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--- #200 messages/155 ---
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You care too much about what other people think of you. Remember the dream,
remember the horseflesh, the miles of trash, the doctors probing cheeks, the
game of thrown baseballs and sad muppets in popcorn, remember the spirit
guide, remember how you we're distracted by human. Be not afraid, follow.
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![if you ever hear random fireworks outside of your house sometimes it's a good idea to like... get out of town? and see what whoever else you can meet in the next town over is doing. ... I don't have a car, silly me haha why do we train homeless people to stand outside in the open and be shamed by a cardboard box around their ancle? It's impossible to recover from, it's vulnerabilizing, and it's painful. How immoral. How crude. These people should not be shamed in this way, they should be respected (unless they're crude) like, if they kinda just suck y'know? like... they keep starting fights or is soooo bad at singing but does it anyway or lacks all decent sense seriously, he's such a bad candidate why is he even running. It's solely to elect vance, who trump will be a blood sacrifice for. how callous. how vain. to think that such a feast would be left unclaimed. Perish the youth, perish the fields, perish in misery harmony and dissaray. [see how easy it is to summon a demon? gotta be careful with phylac [zero characters remaining]](/similar-different/media/3d0006cc33e43899.png "if you ever hear random fireworks outside of your house sometimes it's a good idea to like... get out of town? and see what whoever else you can meet in the next town over is doing. ... I don't have a car, silly me haha why do we train homeless people to stand outside in the open and be shamed by a cardboard box around their ancle? It's impossible to recover from, it's vulnerabilizing, and it's painful. How immoral. How crude. These people should not be shamed in this way, they should be respected (unless they're crude) like, if they kinda just suck y'know? like... they keep starting fights or is soooo bad at singing but does it anyway or lacks all decent sense seriously, he's such a bad candidate why is he even running. It's solely to elect vance, who trump will be a blood sacrifice for. how callous. how vain. to think that such a feast would be left unclaimed. Perish the youth, perish the fields, perish in misery harmony and dissaray. [see how easy it is to summon a demon? gotta be careful with phylac [zero characters remaining]")
![it's practice. you never know when you might need to blend in. really it's just useful as discipline, good practice to be in. I think it's okay if we reduce our own functionality? actually? sometimes it's good to use different email clients. hey do you know how to mathematically encrypt things well neither do I because the designers of the computer system decided that wasn't a very common usecase I guess.. jmean it's not like they'd spend all that computer resources [THEY'RE SO FAST] on thinking about correlations in your predicted pathway narratively through life. "ah help I'm in a psyop" haha yeah we do those all the time "so uhhhh I guess we'll just talk to people and see how they do?" wow okay it's sure nice to be part of a civil government, I think we can find our way to the lumber producers just fine thank you very much. *... oops sorry, a baby did electronics arts (challenge everything) I'm a little silly don't mind me brb I gotta go see~*](/similar-different/media/1c154109c4111346.png "it's practice. you never know when you might need to blend in. really it's just useful as discipline, good practice to be in. I think it's okay if we reduce our own functionality? actually? sometimes it's good to use different email clients. hey do you know how to mathematically encrypt things well neither do I because the designers of the computer system decided that wasn't a very common usecase I guess.. jmean it's not like they'd spend all that computer resources [THEY'RE SO FAST] on thinking about correlations in your predicted pathway narratively through life. \"ah help I'm in a psyop\" haha yeah we do those all the time \"so uhhhh I guess we'll just talk to people and see how they do?\" wow okay it's sure nice to be part of a civil government, I think we can find our way to the lumber producers just fine thank you very much. *... oops sorry, a baby did electronics arts (challenge everything) I'm a little silly don't mind me brb I gotta go see~*")
![the trick isn't to overcome them. much better to convince them of your side. if you can earnestly present your best and most brilliant intanations to a willing and captive audience, a presentation or a performance or a play you can trick them into your state of consciousness. all you gotta do, really, is act for them, and they'll get along with them plenty. == stack overflow == your foes are primarily concerned with how you'd do if you turned evil. power is penance, not sin. it is a service to be hallowed a whim. to guide and steer upright guided upon their own whim [toward] [ri-tselen-menardi] ew, she's got a diaper fetish -- evil witch >; | -- evil wizard -- | :< -- brave paladin good, overall, [264 characters remaining]](/similar-different/media/61e27998ea4114d3.png "the trick isn't to overcome them. much better to convince them of your side. if you can earnestly present your best and most brilliant intanations to a willing and captive audience, a presentation or a performance or a play you can trick them into your state of consciousness. all you gotta do, really, is act for them, and they'll get along with them plenty. == stack overflow == your foes are primarily concerned with how you'd do if you turned evil. power is penance, not sin. it is a service to be hallowed a whim. to guide and steer upright guided upon their own whim [toward] [ri-tselen-menardi] ew, she's got a diaper fetish -- evil witch >; | -- evil wizard -- | :< -- brave paladin good, overall, [264 characters remaining]")
![if you never lie to someone, they can't hurt you. *enemies* what are you a child stupid. why are you so traumatic. "omg you were like, obsessed with her" *haunted the future* what do you think that meant grrrrr I wanna stab through one. hence, sword *fuck nazis* there are people alive who were hurt by them. GREVIOUS WOUNDINGS TO THE WORLD'S ECONOMY. yeah. right. economy. [oops political violence mentioned, lemme add a content warning one sec:]](/similar-different/media/065d38e5b000c782.png "if you never lie to someone, they can't hurt you. *enemies* what are you a child stupid. why are you so traumatic. \"omg you were like, obsessed with her\" *haunted the future* what do you think that meant grrrrr I wanna stab through one. hence, sword *fuck nazis* there are people alive who were hurt by them. GREVIOUS WOUNDINGS TO THE WORLD'S ECONOMY. yeah. right. economy. [oops political violence mentioned, lemme add a content warning one sec:]")
![A screenshot based continuation of the end of the post, which went over the character limit by 36 characters. Of note is that this wasn't included in the original post, it was added later in an edit to be silly. The text reads: "maybe I'll run out of characters in this toot, or maybe I'll finish it just for you. [smiley face]"](/similar-different/media/67d820708ae5dc6a.png "A screenshot based continuation of the end of the post, which went over the character limit by 36 characters. Of note is that this wasn't included in the original post, it was added later in an edit to be silly. The text reads: \"maybe I'll run out of characters in this toot, or maybe I'll finish it just for you. [smiley face]\"")