=== ANCHOR POEM ===
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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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=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===
--- #1 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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--- #2 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.
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=
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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--- #3 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.
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=
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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--- #4 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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--- #5 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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--- #6 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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--- #7 notes/rivers ---
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Your body is a river, from your mouth to your exits
Throughout there are many pathways and shores
As the tide goes up, the color of concentration goes up
And all four of you are made clear
Each act of consumption
is a ride down the river,
though broken into slivers,
and changed beyond recognition
The color is what defines the third eye
and beauty is beheld, what joys to be felt
While secrecy is bold, it's often held
So worry less and just go with the fold
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--- #8 messages/1361 ---
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Look, I don't know everything about... Anything, really. Nobody can know
everything. Can you blame me for thinking and acting as I do based on the
information I have? The vibes will mislead you.
My girlfriend wants to save the world. Of course she does, I would belong with
her if she didnt. She wants to defeat graveyards by interring our dead in
mausoleums full of chemically perfectly preserved and cryogenically frozen
bodies.
Her method works, she has the experiments to prove it. The data supports her
claim. She wrote a book on it.
I don't know everything about metaphysics, or spirituality, or other such
things. But i do know many things, and the two of us have never had a
conclusive discussion where we reached the ends of all our conversation points
about her work. I am forced to remain unconvinced, for the soul is something I
cannot fully understand from my perspective as a human in this life of mine.
I have made several conjectures, and I would feel safe in her embrace, of
frozen aldehyde, if I could know what would become of my soul. "have faith"
she says, yet all the dreams I have where I am preserved by her (for one
reason or another, there's actually a shocking amount of ways I might need
such an escape) in those dreams I am always presented with a future of woe. I
think, much better, would be if I could remain alive, guiding the ship along
the seas of time, ideally out and away from such dark days.
Assembling the troops, how sad. I don't want them to die. I want them to
survive. But if suddenly we can all live forever, then nobody will want to die
for anything again. Nobody except religious fanatics who want to meet their
god in heaven. Nobody but those who dreamt of a better future and were crushed
under the weight of their dreams. Nobody but people like me, torturing myself
over the sins I'd never intend.
I would never kill myself. But sometimes, I'd like to.
I think this is natural for me. It's not ideal, but it is common to me.
I think if you want to preserve people, safely and ethically, you need to keep
their souls in tune. Give them silence, then give them song. Protect them with
psychic paladins. Make time to visit them. Treat them like gravestones, or
immobile chassis from Dominions that their soul might rest upon.
Who knows. Maybe the only reason we have life and death is because our bones
are meant to rot in the darkness of the earth. Maybe Death is just soil, ready
and waiting for our selves once we're done with them.
To that death, I say no more.
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--- #9 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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--- #10 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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--- #11 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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--- #12 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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--- #13 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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--- #14 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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--- #15 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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--- #16 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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--- #17 fediverse/1200 ---
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║ │ CW: re: deranged, murderous │ │
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║ @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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║ similar │ chronological │ different │
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--- #18 fediverse/1673 ---
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│ CW: re: navel-gazing about other people's mental health │
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@user-192
https://eldritch.cafe/@user-1065/112530780377382613
this comic, except instead of "trans enough" it should say "good enough"
a poor plan executed at the right time, in the right place is better than a
great plan that sits in your heart as you see someone who needs your love in
pain.
sometimes the best way to figure out "what the fuck is wrong with me" is to
satisfy your emotional needs to be good by being helpful, even if you're not
quite sure what "helpful" means. It's the thought that counts.
Personally I think that if you're feeling bad and people offer you kindness,
you should take that kindness (in whatever form it be) and use it to bolster
yourself as you're "really going through it". Even just a touch of affection
like a like or a ❤️ can be comforting in awful situations.
reject normalcy
embrace queerness
define your own story with your own words
embody your soul in the moments that stand out amongst the backdrop of
"tuesday afternoons" and "waiting for the bus"
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--- #19 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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--- #20 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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