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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@nuclearnightterror
Alright, game plan review, hit F2 to go to the wire grid map screen. Or was it F3? F4? Do I exist the gate, looking for a pickup spot, or chill and wait for them to waist very little money on a ticket so they can walk through the door and we do lunch?
Hey, add that jar of every single penny to the reproduction of my father's cabinet of wonder, send me a can of tab.
Leave minced inside garlic so I had known who.
Smash smash, stabby stabby.
What the fuck you looking at? Keep scrolling.
Remember that you kinda like watching my things get stolen. As a fact you know hardware glitches, Magus was never a sweet soft moon child, and remaining upset over some missclick on youtube doesn’t make you edgier, harder, more mature, more prepared to hurt people, or more in touch with your sexual preference for assault. It should unlock Leon for Smash Melee, but that would mean I was wrong about you having anger control problems.
The dolphin is not your friend, it, they, she is only posting in emp retarded feels binary to take advantage of your insomnia. Something like a self important edgelady , she’s rather simply instigating your suicidal urges to screw you out of making choices for things you enjoy. I’ll give you some examples.
Guess Leon Kowalski’s play style, if you can!
You’re not having a contest over raging out at faggots in denial on YouTube, you’re waiting for somone to permit you to be in control. Now for lateral positive thinking.Which I assumed you wanted because of all those *ahem* creative game mods. I don’t intend to make a play of horrible bullshit videos like a certain artist trying to tell everyone how suicidal he wants you to stay.
Trigger Warning: I don’t consider myself knowledgeable about attack on titan.
If you wanted to ask about the specifications for how to put a spacestation out of gundam around the moon Titan you’d have a better time here. Now apparently, with your social goldfish attention spans this needs to be spelled out.
Especially the skeleton crossing guard who eats gummi vitamins at the Mexico border, where several very flighty broads are waiting to be flagged through.
Class is out, this is sitting in the theatre room having lunch after having kicked over the vending machine. Pay attention, to what, I’m typing. Especially the cleft lip insecure gangster wannabe with the Shikamaru complex but lazier. This is what how it bee, “dawg.”
Disclaimer: I haven’t watched DB Heroes thirty one. But Oozaru Kakaroly kills Cloverfield a half hour into the movie, leaving Skynet MechaGodzilla to carry the film. An ugly directing choice, and that out of the way!
Since Fuu is now the focus character, we start with an Okami sort of situation. But suddenly a mysterious presence alerts our understandably depressed main antagonist(?), and from the pants leg to the dress shirt to the buttoned vest, posing dramatically like a filler character having a good day without Majin Buu to hold his hand and walk him somewhere it’s Colonel Sanders Jelly Vegeta. Not alone either. He’s drafted quite a few people to his side, mostly every character you like that you thought “I” killed with glitched scr
e
en
button press on YouTube. On a day numerically specifically a holy Wildcard. You impossibly silly lass.The tournament of Power was years and years and years and years ago.
And so Fuu picks himself off the ground, pockets a bag of highly abstract seeds, and looking alike to a prize boxer with that draped over him, walks with our Shmoozing Saiyan Doppelgänger and listens to an offer he really can’t refuse.
*silently agreeing in neopolitan animal crossing*
Reed
Fun challenge, send these gaggle of dorks some questions about Ecco the Dolphin, time t
ohe lad between posts afterward. Meanwhil, on the part of Facebo
ok not overtaken by Pepto Bismol drinking Deadites from the 60’s who still won’t put down the baby hieroglyphics and take the doctor’s medicine in recommended dosages.
Some people have been vocal, probably off planet, about too much Gookog and Veecheeto, I’m apologies, Goku and Vegeta standing in for other characters. Know that while more important things are needing to be done, and part of this chickenscratch metanarrative, I have filed your concerns. So, Fuu is making certain to watch his manners around Team PB&J.
Oh yes Riddel, if you have to suffer through all that trauma and keep a presentable face, shouldn’t everyone else too?
So we have Yamcha at home, or an old thieves hideout, or Kame House, thoroughly engrossed with his phone. Whatever may he be watching? Really that’s up to the dubbing team. Maybe he’s using a few Sherlock Holmes Hardcovers to test his posture. Knock on the door it’s Chi Chi and Tien. Piccolo’s been moody, and won’t talk to anyone he did the Tournament arc with. Well he did get a slap on the back against the Egyptian cat god, maybe it’s up to him? Cue a drive, with multiple fender benders, to Taco Bell.,.Pilaf in a robot suit working the drivethru.
They drive to wherever, could be the middle of nowhere, I’m not in the mood for twitchy dramatics. Odd people’s energy signatures have been showing up, and he’s tightlipped about something. Something Something Ribrianne ’ this is how the white race goes extinct.’ Cowabunga, that’s four onscreen characters! Pizza Time!
You can already hear the Luna Eurobeat playing, because it’s kinda an automated feature!
We’re working towards a Goku and Vegeta coma arc, try to cooperate without starving a man to death because standing in the corner because of your bratty attitude isn’t working for you. It means more “other characters”. That and mood swings.
Hello Feiying, yes I do have an interest in Science Team Gatchaman.
…in personnel, please come to deli bakery please
I’ve always wanted to try living at Walmart. Seems self re-inforcing. Anyway, I got more in me.
Sooooooo the entire thing WOULD REQUIRE finishing the “365 Days of Tao” and “The Deaths of Tao”, using the tumblr version, which I know other people have picked up on. The entire multi-episode set up would be a positive excuse to decompress the plot of “Wrath of The Dragon”. Yes I read the first weatherbeaten copy of “Twilight” during a stay in an insane asylum. Heh Lum. I’d suggest using the Multiverse Team write it, if I still trusted the FelRench.
Where before a lot of Mel Brooks references would have been needed along with a ridiculous amount of Tekken and Virtua Fighter still and animated shot comparisons as well as on the ground reports from people in less constitutionally founded territories , we can use Braille readings of the D.C. riots and ask anyone who’s been in one since the mid-eighties. A bumper crop of social unrest.
Looking at you Bulleta.
Even when I… uh anyway! The whole thing, including previously mentioned cameos are a lead up to this being Master Splinter Turtle Sennin’s story arc. Also during this chaos Moloch Sensei shows up but it is Injustice Prison Uniform Morro.
How we proceed with this was already written as easy mode by the fellow who did the non-YouTube Quest Sixty Four strategy walkthrough first person fic, reshuffle some names of places and things and there we go. Have some fun leaving things Celtlandish due to the ‘Room of Spirit and Time’ a
n
d
places from a few other classics. Let the Southern Hemisphere boys roll for magical dramatical bullcrap.
The Boss Villain of the ‘arc’ is one of the Spice Boys masquerading as an angelic version of Bulma, or Bulma, or original Trunks with a friggin Halo, but the need to dramatically bite into the fruit from the cover of “Midnight Sun”. Those things aren’t toxic but the give me blood vessel problems like I got smacked a jab to the nose.
Back when I was just released from that nuthouse on the panhandle after a year long stay, I wrote up some interesting prompts on my home computer. That’s incidental. While in the nuthouse for that monotonous year, someone passed me a small object with appeared to be a diamond. You’d be astounded the clarity a gallon of chocolate soy milk and an entire bottle of men’s vitamin gummies give you. When I got
o
u
t
I had it appraised. The contrarian motherfucker who looked at it said it was a cubic zirconium, I didn’t throw it away, but I’m certain that whoever took it along with my personal Mac found out that fingernail sized gem was worth what, $$100,000? Or where you admitting one hundred karats? Do you know what that would have made possible in my hands after my slovenly and probably dead Fargo Faygo chugging roommate left allowing me to get it re-appraised? You impossibly stupid uncle fucker.
Timelines.
“You like me shoving the card in you dirty McDuck cumdumpster!”
Ah, this is quite a sight to behold…
A bright-yellow sun rose high over the land of Clancer, its rays shining down upon the vast, open landscape. Morning dew sparkled on the various trees and plants dotting the landscape as the sun’s rays shined down onto the forest. Birds chirped in the trees and flowers swayed in the wind as butterflies darted from one petal to another. Hidden in the light of the morning sun, a massive house-like structure was held aloft high above the planet’s surface via three huge rockets. Two long blade-like structures, connecting to huge green spheres, stood erect on the brick-red roof of the aircraft. Yellow as the sun it was basking in, the entrance of the aircraft was adorned with a face-like image consisting of two glass circles and a silver elongated triangle.
Inside the ship, an elderly man was silently staring out a closed window in a small room right by the entrance. The man had a stocky build, with a round belly and a thick, white beard not unlike that of Santa Claus. Round glasses adorning his face, he wore a white lab coat and green bandanna tied tightly on his head.
Gosh, I’m bored… the man thought, shaking his head, I came to this planet to unwind, and I can’t even leave the ship…
Theo shifted his position and stared out the window, hoping to see his robot return soon. Outside he saw the beautiful landscape of Clancer; the bright, clear sky, the rolling hills, the vibrant green grass and trees that seemed to stretch for miles. Dotting the landscape were block-like temple structures with holes and grooves craved into them. Images that resembled a ghostly face adorned the structures, giving them a slightly quieting look to them that sent chills down Theo’s spine.
As he stared out to the beautiful scenery, a rising feeling from his gut beckoned him to venture out into this new world. “And yet…” he sighed as he made his way back to his seat, “Marina told me to stay here ‘til she’s done scouting…”
With that, Theo let out another sigh as he sat back down. Hours has elapsed since he had last seen Marina. He had spent most of the time tinkering with his gadgets and nick-knacks he brought with him, watching his stories on the ship’s intergalactic television, and had eaten most of the remaining food in the supply storage room. All he could do now was sit and wait for his robot, Marina, to return from the scouting.
Gosh, I’m getting tired… His eyelids grew heavy as he tried to stay upright on his seat, a huge plush pillow. Perhaps I should take a nap… until Marina comes back, anyway.
Suddenly, an odd laughter pierced through his drowsy state, and in a flash, Theo shot back up whipping his head around in alarm.
“Huh?” he uttered in confusion, “I have visitors already?”
“Darth Of A Salespony”
Try try again Alistor. Maybe we zigged where we should have zagged.
>On the plus side, I bullshitted him into the high-rises ._
Holding his hands up, he slowly trudged over to the entrance of the ship. Thoughts raced through his head as he walked ever so closer. "Was it Marina?" he thought, before shaking his head. "She couldn't have been back this early. It can't be the locals, either; if my calculations are correct, I should be over five hundred feet above the planet's surface!"
Reaching for the handle, he slid the door open, revealing that… no one was there?
"Huh?" He poked his head out the window, flitting his eyes to and fro. "Where did they go?"
"BANZAI!"
Before he knew it, a strong blow struck his face, sending him flying back in the floor of the room.
"W…What the heck was that?" he screamed, furiously rubbing the back of his head. "Marina, did you do tha-!"
Just before he finished his sentence, a figure ran into the room. Theo turned his head to see the figure standing in front of his table
Anything
;-; these girls...
@stonertrixy
“Giving no offense in any thing, that the ministry be not blamed.”
“Long time therefore they speaking boldly in the Lord, which gave testimony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hand.”
“That it may be well with thee, and thou may livest long on the Earth.”
“We give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord JESUS CHRIST, praying always for you.”
"For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy."
"No you're not and no you're not."
*wakes up* alright what the fuck
[laughing] Every faceless doll but it's that Dr. Who episode except he's Gumby.
VITAMIN R
"AQCUIRE LECHE?"
I'll crack your head against a tombstone on mtube Mefo. Hi handsome.
"I deserve this for stopping him from having tofu for breakfast."
Games I\up, you w\'win' now stop throwing dice at the table and call a cab señorita! Come back real soon!!!
Dr. Who 8
please never post OC, please
Can you see a difference?
🚨Rare Book Alert!🚨
Der Hermetische Triumph, oder, Der siegende philosophische Stein : ein Tractat völliger und verständlicher eingerichtet, als einer jemals bisher gewesen, handelnde von der hermetischen Meisterschafft : hiebevor in frantzösischer Sprache gedruckt zu Amsterdam bey Heinrich Wetstein, Anno 1689, nunmehro gegenwärtig ins Deutsche versetzt.
The Hermetic Triumph , or, The Victory Philosophical Stone: a treatise more complete and more intelligible than ever before, onedealingwith the Hermetic masterpiece: previously printed in French to Amsterdam by Heinrich Wetstein, Anno 1689, now translated into German.
Photo credit: Der Hermetische Triumph, Oder, Der Siegende Philosophische Stein. Görlitz (Görlitz), Germany: Johann Gottlob Laurentio, 1707. https://digital.sciencehistory.org/works/nv9353669. Export citation (RIS)?
((( (((You grabbed “Power Food”
‘Oh brother…. this is just what I needed!’))) )))
“” Guidance “”
Roll Dice!
gorls 🚀
I knew it I knew I knew I knew it I knew I knew I knew I knew I knew I knew it I knew it I knew it I KNEW IT!
R: 26 / I: 6▶Execution: Videos of people being executed with guns.
WRONG. When you use the undo button in paint in order to clean up an error before saving your work, unless the action is related immediately to the previous action before a save, it will NOT delete the previous brushstroke action. So if the question mark was deleted when I had to realign the second small bottom text, that can ONLY mean that all those wifi interruptions and lags my PC experienced were the online equivalent of King Crimson doing his thang. Ergo, the lines of code that made up the paintbrush program for the Apple OS were TAMPERED with, allowing one small change upon a course correction to go unnoticed, thereby setting off , AS USUAL, the more sensitive forsaken denizens of the internet because even if they KNOW IT’S WRONG they lean on pattern recognition to be socially sane and stable in this toxic EMP environment. Doesn’t matter what he used to do it, quantum computing, simple hacking, or ALIENS the perpetrator intended to incite unrest through an innocuous error that would seem innocent at first but blow up into something Stormageddon Craig Harrison levels of STUPID because he or she is a chemically dependent psychic who just happens to run off of other people’s misery like some I DON’T KNOW psychological equivalent to a hoodlum off the streets taken to stereotypical levels of RAPSCALLINITY in order to cover for the psychological damage a life of cocaine derivative addiction caused them and the gender issues that it would insure later in life like a bio chemical addiction. AND ONLY ONE PERSON I KNOW IS CUTE ENOUGH AND UGLY ON THE INSIDE ENOUGH TO PULL THAT SHIT BECAUSE HE HATES PEOPLE OF ARABIC DESCENT.
And he idolized ONSLAUGHT from the 90′s so he fixates his psychic talents on cancer positive women in order to play them like puppets and get them to do his dirty trolling for him. Like that bitch Beth ( no relation to Bethany from Dogma) I am BLAMELESS, he’s been playing evil Xavier to my Magneto since were kids. Unfortunately, my interest was in Andrew. If you wanted to fuck that back cute stuff, I have a phone number and you have a secretary. That arrow you see up there, THAT’S THE COLOR OF NICKEL, FOUND IN SOYBEANS.
@mefomefomefo-blog
^^^^
_@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@#<<<<<<<<
The following image is the psychological equivalent of A TIME DELAYED
BWAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
You may now precede to write him a receipt for the honor of SUCKING MY DICK AFTER A CANDLELIGHT DATE A THE LOCAL FAIRE. *insert Bayeux Tapestry memes from YTMND*
Third post in this chain upcoming tonight, if you know what I mean! ( Do you?)
Bullshitter 07/27/20(Mon)19:22:34
No.
17574001
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@@17565433^^ with a little fetal alchoho syndrome mixed in
“That ain’t the facts chief.”
Your Intended~ 07/27/20(Mon)19:33:31
Si.
17574063
▶▶▶▶▶▶
^^17573926 love Caprice she went from a little shy girl having a hard time holding a mouthful of cum without gagging to a beautiful slut shamelessly giving blowjob in the backroom of porn conventions that’s a success story if I’ve ever seen one
“I’m waiting for you, please come pick me up it’s getting a little dark.”
it makes me real fucking emo to think of how Iroh always refers to Zuko as “Prince Zuko”. Not out of some false stuck-up sense of formality or to distance himself emotionally or something, but because Zuko has been kicked out of his home by his own father and stripped of his identity, has lost his birthright and nation and entire sense of self in one terrible blow, and all he really has left is his name and title, as defamed and mocked as it is. Iroh is probably the only person in the world to address Zuko as “Prince” and actually mean it. His nephew needs to believe he can return home, needs to maintain some scrap of hope to keep him going. The only time Iroh slips up is and just calls him “Zuko” is when he thinks Zuko’s been killed in the ship explosion.
similarly, it makes me real fucking emo to think of how Zuko only ever calls Iroh “Uncle”. Not Prince, not General, not the Dragon of the West, not even just Iroh – he calls him uncle. Because Iroh is the only member of his family who Zuko trusts enough to let his guard down completely. He knows he won’t be punished for being informal or vulnerable around him, knows that calling him “uncle” will never be misconstrued as a sign of disrespect. Even at his angriest, Zuko addresses Iroh as “Uncle”. In the end, his uncle is the only person with whom he feels truly safe.
THE KING TURNED HIS BACK ON THE EGYPTIAN ROOMS. “Lead me out, old friend,” he said. “ I am lost in this maze. I do not like the concept of a museum.”
Samir walked quickly at his side, the beam shining on the floor directly before them. “Sire, if you desire to go to Egypt, do it now. That is my advice to you, though I know you do not ask it. Take Julie Stratford if you will, but leave England.” “Why do you say this?”
“The authorities know that coins have been stolen from the collection! They want to reclaim the mummy of Ramses the Great. There is much talk and suspicion.” Samir could see the menace in Ramses’ face. “The accursed Henry Stratford,” he said under his breath, quickening his pace ever so slightly. “He poisoned his uncle, a man of learning and wisdom. His own flesh and blood. And stole from that man a golden coin as his body lay dying.” Samir stopped. The shock was more than he could bear. Instantly he knew it was true. He had known when he saw the body of friend that something was terribly wrong. It has not been a natural death. But he had believed Henry Stratford a coward. Slowly he caught his breath. He looked at the tall shadowy figure standing beside him. “You tried to tell me this earlier tonight,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to believe you it.”
“I saw it, my beloved servant,” the King said. “with my own eyes. Just as I saw you come to the body of your friend Lawrence and begin to weep. These things were mixed with my waking dreams; but I remember them most clearly.” “Ah, but this cannot go unavenged.” Samir was trembling. Ramses placed a hand on his shoulder. They proceeded slowly.
“And this Henry Stratford knows my secret.” Ramses said. “The tale he told you was true. For when he tried by the same means to take the life of his cousin, I came out of the coffin to prevent it. Oh, if only I had had my full strength, I would have finished it, there and then. I should have embalmed him myself and wrapped him up and put him in the painted coffin for all the world to see as Ramses.”
Samir smiled bitterly.
“ A just reward,” he said under his breath. He felt the tears on his face, but there was none of the relief that tears should bring. “ And what will you do now sire?”
==++>
==>
??>
=+>
“ A wound no alcohol can fill or sex can satiate, 1/2 of those already tested. Garlic pancakes, convince me otherwise, to our face. I owe you no debt, warheads.”
“And the rest of the universe is laughing at your stubborn chess paranoia.”
Link and Midna on Fanfiction .net: “Just who’re are you trying to impress with all this ninja dress play?”
(I know that feeling.)
Unknown.gif
“I’ve been on twitter, even left something of a roadsign.”
>>17496811<<
“flow like water, how hard is that to get right for some people?”
@thefuschiaroyaltyemissary
Do you know what I try to see when I'm talking to you guys? Imagine for a second you don't have an inline to all my styling online, and that I'm not desperately trying to fend off a self destructive attitude learned from well meaning people. You have the inline to what's been going on, really truly going on in the world, and I'm not jealous exactly, just pointedly curious. Even when I come off as impressive, I must seem like bad comedy to people all to well learned in the art of dealing with anxiety and responsibilities most people never even learn exist. Your lives are simply so different. Every single post you make, it's a game of minesweeper beneath a a deceptive exterior of ice, sand, war torn ground, the breathing land or the magma cracked plains of a fresh and all too common volcanic eruption. The slightest green text from you waaay back in the day felt like maybe I was being spied on by aliens, that ever so slightly I was living up to the name of the man I chose to keep on instead of the legally smart thing of allowing my step father to have adopted me, I'd like to think he would have. It would have been nice if he'd thought so too. You're born to a role I had to take my whole life to keep my momentum on, and from my admittedly easy to deduce perspective aided or un-such by you you almost represent who I'd have wanted my children to be like. The same short tempered ruthlessness, the same caprice and need for contradiction to keep an even keel, and the love -hate relationship with comedy that comes too easily to your minds but doesn't leave you smiling the everyone else has had a laugh. It's not nor ever has been any intention of mine when hale and hearty, and most importantly sane to ever hurt or by inaction bring harm to you. You are, in the truely ironic sense, my closest friends. The vision of what thought lurked in my own untold future, realized in the actions and lives of people. "Stop sucking my dick", all right. You're gunslingers to me. The real deal, the ones who see the world in an ancient and familiar fashion, and like Roland after the slaughter of Tull, you're increasingly weary. So, I say or do something just to keep my own nerves onff edge and it seems like a personal affront. Like I'm trying to make you like me. That's your own call, with or without the nebulous ">" that you were probably disgusted to see so many people abuse when you were introduced to the 21st centuries most impressive layabouts and depressives bordering on the degenerate. Worse to you, I say or do something and you'll flip your response, you're suddenly so optimistic, so EAGER and HAPPY and SUPER EXCITED, like whoever you think I am, or thought I was, had woken up from this long disappointing sleep that you share with me. I could have taken a hot bath to calm down just now, but with our uneven street ESP I'd, in your place, take that as a fucking insult. Nothing so common, you just scale your reactions to the people you meet, try to talk to others on what you can see of their own level without doing the unthinkable and failing the life lessons of your admittedly more gilded and far more strenuous youth. So fucking much is expected of you, by those that raised you, and by yourselves, always kept slightly apart from the world, always so disappointed with it. With, like waves up and down across the sea, me. Me, the person who honestly wants everything but to piss you off more than everything you've been through has made you. Your standards are the exacting standards of someone desperate to relax, and your joys that of a mind built on sturdy intricacy. That means the bullshit you put up with sticks with you longer, warps the joys you can find and presents, like Ryoma, a seemingly never ending hot blooded battle against a monster made of....well that's your business not mine. Your life. And of the especial amongst you that's constantly rocking back and forth in something almost like giddy teenage romance, always hanging onto every little post looking for some sign of faith to be rewarded, you get hit the hardest. Not the worst of the bunch, but it's a gamble on your part that your didn't ask for. I don't proclaim anything of your character I can't draw of myself, and what's mislabeled as a cliche is an all too real fact of your extremely sensitive and sheltered, though not ignorant life. I'm saying, if you're pissed off with me - the best thing you could do is beat it out of me, slap me around and force me to see things the way you've had to deal with them. I'm so scared of failing you, because the actual (hashtag: truth) for whatever reason, what I do *matters* *to* *you*. Every stupid little reaction, and you have to put up with the backlash. So setting aside the situation of the world long enough for you to casually read over this, I apologize to you. Sometimes you get used to failure in small respects to push forward what you tell yourself is the big victory. It's momentum, don't you know? Let's you cast away affection, childhood dreams, all the really important things. But that's an article you know all too well. The crux of it. You want, whatever this is to work, and I am not so haughty to say that you don't deserve that personal victory. That you don't deserve your attempt at kindness or passion to be rewarded decently. You're forced, you've told me, to take the offensive. And I have always been stuck on the defensive. Not an even split of failure and victory, just enduring. I know the sadism that you grapple with, it comes too easily to m - and it leaves an after aura to all my doings. That's why I try to be the hype man, try to keep my head down and my attitude aligned towards snarky, so you won't feel like that's a hopeless struggle. I'd give anything to meet your personally, and it seems like that's what you want up until I somehow throw cold water over you again and again. In fact, I'm throwing it over myself. All the little details, they make sense looking back - that's why it's always a guardians attitude towards depression, empty platitude, drug abuse, recklessness.
I hate being alone. I've been alone too much. So to you who suffer so much horseshit with so many strings attached the likes of which I was planning to manage when I was that bright chipper young man, you don't deserve your frustrations. You deserve to desire to do good, and for once the nagging in your head that says it can't work out to just shut the fuck up and let you do some actual good. So no lecture.
How was your day? What did you have for breakfast this morning? How many books did you sit down and read for the sheer pleasure of it? Any longstanding bets you've won? I'd like to know, when you want to tell me. Are your dreams good? Do you toss and turn too often and wake to tangled sheets? I'll bet. Your favorite color, food, play, musical, the happiest holiday you ever experienced, the first time you felt love, the moment the world stretched out and became so much larger for you. I'd like to ask you about it all, without the tired eyes and the cracked voice. No, since I was 13 years old, no one has asked me anything of the sort. SO WHEN *ahem* I appear over enthusiastic on some hilariously whimsical train of thought, it's because those sorts of things have faded so far into the distance I forgot I cared about them. Though, to you this is obvious, to me it's a weight that always bears down on my interactions. It's because of that pain, I don't think to judge you, I just wonder. And if, to you, I appear to do all of that with "> this annoying keyboard sign" it isn't out of anything like malice. It's frustrated concern. Not true of everyone, obviously.
But you care, you obviously care.
Did the news upset you today? Are there any friends you've....been kept from by this man made pandemic? Are you holding up well enough or is it just sitting there, waiting for you to slump down in a cozy chair amore a corner of your favorite room and shut it off with drink? You can be as cruel as you need to be with these truths, I've only ever stared at them head on for as long as my pluck, vim, fortitude, charisma, and fuck that attitude have afforded me.
I know I can do this, I just have to beat myself over the head to say it after decades of disappointment. And you'd have something to say about *that* little claim I've absolutely no doubt. : )
So continuing this retro style climb through dreary text like you dusted off your old copy of Ice Climbers, let's keep thwacking away at the emotional baggage. "Dear Abby, today I found out I have more siblings than I knew what to do with; I say "knew" because having suffered a form of amnesia like a depressive fog of bad nerves, they were probably at the forefront of my thoughts once upon a time. What do you do for someone who is a stranger by one turn and intimately familiar with just a sentence away? Can I be forgiven for being a fool who thinks about the problems of the stranger in front of me when the stranger I have to get up every day and deal with can't save himself? I want to know if you think that's a selfish viewpoint, Dissillusioned (wink, waggle nose) East Coast North AMerica."
How was that? Tugs at you doesn't it? No, of course not that's what everyone has to deal with whether they learn to see that in themselves or not. I don't wager you genuinely think it's funny either. Do you? Have you been around long enough to really hold that cynicism like a security blanket? Where do you wander even now, It feels like I should know. (==>)
It's like a knock against the head when I can tell you're thinking about me, a busted down window to you. A thing of numbers, and if the respondent scores high enough, you can look at them with something like pride again. That, I'd say, is entirely your choice to tell me about. I tried running the numbers like that when I was younger - it wore me down but left a stubborn ......... man, in its place. But this is about you. How do you wish to know peace in your life? That's important. Good looking, oh yes easy enough to tell from just talking with you online, that's no false confidence, though there's always a giddiness to it. Hence you always calling things "Based" as detestable a phrase to drop as "sauce" an all purpose clutch against mathematical banality. Those are what you say to sarcastically cop an attitude and brush off another minor betrayal of your expectations. It's that forbidden word rooted in hedonistic boredom that you find personally blasphemous, I'm certain you know the one. Opposite of "hope" I'm told. And boy, do I get told.
I'm not handling you with misplaced kid gloves, and like the abused fighter I am this monogram to you will come with the expectation of further deep disappointment from you taped on like a post it note. But despite our resonance with each other, I feel it's better to let this be known of me. Enough.
Tell me, in your own way, first time you had an adrenaline rush? Did you want to be a daredevil when you were just starting out, deep down seeking thrills in every little thing? It seems like a facet of you that shows up more often than not, you wouldn't scum the eyescratchingly painful abuse fest that is the common image board otherwise. Does your body have that special coordination of a ballet dancer who could kick box a mixed martial artist onto the mat? Every muscle, nerve sinew communicating so fiercely with each other it's an adventure in itself that you don't strain your own muscles getting so damn excited over life. And that's probably the anxiety and depression again, because it's always that distant repressed anger that makes it so easy at first to control yourself. Anyone who told you that you were using rage as a cover was full of shit, rage doesn't demand that level of detail to your personal life at all times, it just reverberates.
First pet dog? First pet cat? First time you memorized the constellations and recited them back to yourself under I assume a full night sky? Best I had was the local indoor planetarium. Are you vain about your looks, or merely conscience of how others look at you all the time? Sometimes, just sometimes, you want to walk out into the woods and stay there until all your clothes are torn up and your hair has to have pine needles picked out of it and you smell like brush and dirt and wood bark. Little like that, to counterbalance all the inescapably huge ones, the unfair things that keep themselves as your millstone. How did you first discover you couldn't stand getting drunk? Delirious hangover - el oh el - but more likely that the sour taste it left in your gut reminded you of the things in life it was supposed to be making you oblivious to. Never again is a hard adage to live up to, especially for those desperate to prove the validity of love. In my case, optimistic ambition. Half smile and bedroom eyes very much included, just see the back of the cardboard stand for details before our lives get thrown out of whack by an impulse purchase.
Did you want children? I mean, everyone on some level does, or has had and lost them - people or just opportunities like Frank Herbert wrote about. It may seem the shallow inquiry, but did you look forward to feeling love for them when all the other problems had been put away and you could focus on seeing something you made achieve excellence simply for it's own sake? For the sake of simply being better every day than it had been before, I mean. That one gets me all the time, and I mean that. No bitter dry hyena laughter, no intoxicated bullshit chortling, because imbedded into that impulsive complicated drive is what gives lasting personal ecstasy. There's a wall there of course, I noticed it once, you've told me about it every so often. Not diminishing returns, because that's about where you are, but the sameness and troublesome tradition(?) I suppose. Being so good at something, you can't imagine that you ever cared enough to get there at all. The most traitorous thoughts for the most level headed adventurers of eternity.
I know for a fact you want to be a writer? How? Right there up front in your mind between those boughts of tired incomprehension, the same stubborn certainty: Is there anything new left to write about? Bullshit, of course there is, part of living - ups and downs and a story you appreciate because you've lived through it.
Shame, heartbreak, regret, mortal fear, the taste of hypocrisy. You don't even have to say a word. That sticks itself into all the tiny spaces and stays there.
One no one ever asks even the closest, can you recall having to bite down and bear through something even though it was insurmountable, tough to the point of exhaustion? Maybe your perspective on that is a bit alien to mine, I seem to recall getting up enough times makes you eventually assume that's it's only a matter of attitude.
You're smarter than that. Impulsive too, the thing that carried you through your first automatic beatdown.
I ask this more of myself, than you, but maybe you have an answer from all your long research. The first time you managed to forgive? To look at someone who wronged you, know that you were right, and still say that they didn't deserve your anger at them - because aren't they a victim in all this too? Naive, that's what you may tell me. If you'd met me years earlier, I'd have complimented you such a rebuttal.
Alien mystery. There's one I haven't ever told anyone about. Hinted, never told. And that's the great big stupid missing part of me, next door neighbros to jealousy because of how it works it's way down to all the detail oriented parts and just looms, not monolithic, merely invisible to a common train of thought. I saw things once, you could lecture *me* on them no doubt and would get tired of it before I would. The mysteries hidden over the Earth, the things they don't tell anyone lurking in our own solar system, I've only seem them fragmentally remembered in old waking dreams, you've done that and more with your own eyes. You must be proud of that, what's that feel like again?
I don't have to lecture the predator. From the moment we crossed horns, that was as obvious as the wind in my face. You'll draw anyone in that interests you, whatever restrictions your life has placed, you'll always find a way. Must be nice running a multinational at your apparent age. Almost something you can do without thinking, crunching numbers and giving orders without any internal discord at all.
And now the truly unknown. The thing I envy, fear, hold as a point of proven personal weakness in my most shameful moments. When did you first conceive of stepping beyond your humanity. Did you fear that opportunity would be torn from your grasp? Were you WILLING TO KILL SOMEONE TO KEEP IT? Did it obsess you, how to take just one life in order that all you held precious would endure. Plenty has been written on the subject, I'll let you quote me if you really want to. There's an obvious artificiality to you, a quickness the human mind can't keep up with without skirting psychopathy. I've only known the mutations brought by medication and stress, what.... ah but didn't you say it was an unnaturally vacant sort of thing? Something uniquely artificial to the healthy living mind? Though I suspect you tell yourself you're not exactly sane these days.
I'm writing all of this blind, knowing that you have a hair trigger temper about me, and that you've in some way co-opted the life I fantasized about from me. You said, I believe, that between the life you would have lead and the one earned through this strange fiddling of possibilities that this life was somehow the worse of them. How you straddle despair, how you rail against it all, and with what innocence? Plenty of cruelty, this era fosters little else but the cruelty of mice about men.
Did you ever pity someone so hard you'd give up part of your life so that they could continue to live against all odds? Just so long as they were still there.
