Got a job. I've been building.
So tired.
×_×
/ | \
/ \
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@theburgerrat
Got a job. I've been building.
So tired.
×_×
/ | \
/ \
I chose a really bad day to wear a black henley.
I normally am fine with the heat, but I had to run for a while in the heat.
I detest being plague ridden. Mucus flows from every orifice in my face.
Illness is the bane of my existence.
My book shall one day have a character named Lithagroford Cornwallis III if I ever get back to writing it.
A torrent of rain flows down outside as I sit, festering at my desk. Time continues to trudge by at the same, sickeningly slow pace. I am once more trapped within a whirlwind of erroneous thoughts, hubris-fueled dreams, and ideas I am incapable or unwanting to bring into this reality. What beasts of steel shall be brought forth by my hand? What unholy mimicry of sacred life shall I convert inert and inanimate resources into? Will I one day fear my creation, as Victor Frankenstein once did? Surely not as I am not a coward, and I do not fear what I created.
Create for the sake of creating.
Unless your creations kill the earth. Then don't.
Moral quandries of what counts as sentient life doesn't count here. If you can make something that seems sentient (actually intelligent, not just mimicking intelligence through art theft), while not being alive AND not killing the earth or the life upon it, then go on and make it.
The world needs more people willing to learn, problem solve, and create.
Though my beliefs do not align with Lovecraft's raging bigotry, I do appreciate his skill in creating things mortal minds should never comprehend.
That is not dead which can eternal lie, and in strange æons even death may die.
Eldritch horror is a beautifully grotesque form of literature, and I love it to the deepest, most stained corners of my ever-beating heart.
I Don't want to set the world on fire...
Je suis fatiguée.
My nest will reclaim me eventually.
Once more, the sun rises over this accursed land, bringing warmth unfelt by those near to those who think themselves gods incarnate.
One day, the sun will once more rise, but it will not be just one dawn on that fateful day.
Warmongers run this world, and they will end it through their greed.
Good morning, may it not be our last.
Just slept for around 13 hours.
I wanna go back to sleep.
Near 1 a.m. and I'm under 5 blankets, yet sleep doth evade me. I await hypnos's warm embrace once more. I shall one day build my fantastical machines. I just lack the funds.
First post here. I've got a splitting headache.
Vive la Révolution!
G'night y'all.