One: I poked in to check my emails (like I do about once every couple of days) on Yahoo (today, Tuesday, July 12, 2011), to have this charming instant message from a name I've never seen before.
From: charmaineimperioyhzx
Message: fade ffffffm8xc gHaut eW 6kN9o 9WWW.X1U.EUm
What. The. Fuck? I had an email a while back that I probably should've deleted straight up, as well, just spam but written in the ... most interesting of fashions. I can't find it anymore, anyway.
Probably reading too much into this but seriously, what the hell? Straight advertisement would read ... well, at all. I can't make heads nor tails of that. There didn't appear to be any attachments either ... feck, I dunno.
Oh, and the second one, which amused me greatly - the fanfiction piece I hammered out in about 45 minutes after finishing Fable II still gets more love than the epic I've been toying with off and on about Oblivion for literally years. Someone replied to each and every chapter with a response - we're talking one paragraph, maybe two or even a whole page per chapter, and the responses often as long as the chapters themselves.
I guess I'm just happy people like some of the things I write.
Showing posts with label Insanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Insanity. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
"Real" Encounters With Mysticism
The melody of mermaids
keeps me awake at night
The eyes of starlit heavens
following me secretly
So I'm going to preface this post with the admission that I - like so many others in this world - was very, very stupid as a child. So that's out of the way. Now, I've hinted obliquely and outright stated most of the content in this post in other places on this blog, as well (yes that's me, yes I know what I'm saying, writing backwards isn't that hard until e starts looking like it's supposed to be ɘ).
TL;DR: Jibber-jabber about crazy metaphysical stuff. Wall of text inbound, though there are pictures at the end.
Let's get started. Alpha, hon, you'll probably want to stop reading about here. (I know, you don't use that name anymore.)
Tarot
So some of my first experiences with any kind of mystical, magical stuff, other than the rites and rituals associated with organized religion, came from tarot cards. Innocent, easy tarot cards. Even hardcore anti-pagan Christians will sometimes get a tarot reading, or their horoscope did. It varies from case to case.
I tend to have about a 75% accuracy, I'd ... wager, anyway, though I'm horrible at answering questions with it. But then, that's partly the kind of spread I prefer - the standard Celtic Cross 10-card spread seems to generally assess the entire situation and give a full breakdown of the entire life, up to the moment in question. Mom is better, and that's part of the reason I never have her do a reading on me.
There are such stories there.
Nowadays I do a simple one-card draw almost every day, for general guidance. Since getting obsessed with the Slender Man mythos I tend to draw the Nine of Swords with alarming regularity - which is kind of fitting: this is the card of fear and nightmares.
When I was younger, I had a tarot reading at a local Renaissance fair, done at cost from a professional. My question was fairly simple: what is my power/strength/ability?
I have a tendency to attract cards from the Major Arcana. Of the entire spread, I only remember one of the cards now, and that one The Magician. The answer, as the tarot reader interpereted it, was that my power was the ability to change others' perception - to effectively appear how I want to other people.
The "Spirit" and the Rain
So this next bit is going to be from the gullible mind of an impressionable, sensitive child. Take it for what it is.
I've known Alpha most of my life, though we've only really met face to face the one time. At one point (I was in college, I remember), he got caught up in this ... pseudo-cult thing. It was headed by a girl who I spoke to once over the Internet and then never again, really. He's since stopped talking to her, and he requested not to talk about it with him ever again. She was rather persuasive, and they had this belief that he was some sort of angel-knight to protect her. (Emphasis on the first part.) She was some kind of figurehead magic-woman. I'm fuzzy on the details, partly because he didn't really talk about it much to me at the time, other than to suggest I was supposed to be some kind of seer, and powerful besides.
He wanted a taste of power, of better control, himself, and told me he had contacted a dark creature in order to get the training he wanted. (He gave it a specific name, but I don't remember.)
This is all relevant to a couple of specific incidents. One: he challenged me to try and develop the power he believed I had and use it.
He did this ... well, let me transcribe the conversation as well as I remember it.
Him: "I want you to picture someone. Anyone, really."
Me: "All right I've got something ... " It was a man-boy, a teenager or young adult, maybe, with dark hair and a denim jacket, seen from behind. Like a photograph.
Him: "All right. Now what I want you to do is I want you to make it rain. The [spirit] will know if you're successful. If you don't manage it within three days, that person, whoever it is, will die."
Me: "What."
In all honesty, in perfect honesty, I didn't care about the boy/man. I should have, but I didn't. It was an affront to my pride that he thought I couldn't accomplish this impossibility he presented me with, that there was some kind of condition for failure in this agreement. So I set out to do it, without the first inkling of how I should begin.
I'm fairly confident I did it wrong.
I'll admit, I was angry, a little, and prideful, and stubborn.
I took what I knew of how storms were born, how water is drug up from the river (and other bodies of water, but seriously, I live right on a river) to the clouds, gathering there until it becomes too heavy and falls. I took that knowledge, and I tried to force it along, to grow a storm as organically as possible. I had a pad of paper, and I like to draw, I focused my will through that, scratching dark circles with an ink pen onto the paper, representative of the storm's mass. From above, all storms make spirals, so I made spirals, concentric rings made up entirely of smaller rings, ink like water.
And then I focused all my will, and ... nothing happened.
A great big nothing, no storm clouds blocked the sky, though it was humid and there were some clouds. They just weren't right.
I kept at it, persistent.
It rained, a light sprinkle from an almost clear sky. Not enough to be serious, but enough to let me know I did something.
Maybe.
For the next week or so after whatever-I-did, I was laid low with some kind of illness, Mother Nature's fond "Fuck you," for tampering with her. I'm given to understand that whatever it was I did, I probably shouldn't have tried it.
Or, y'know, I could be crazy and caught a weird summer flu.
About Cat
This was actually when I met Alpha's friend Cat.
Cat and I talked over the internet, after the incident. She suggested that I'm a new soul, with only a couple of reincarnations to my name. She didn't like what I told her about the [spirit], or about Alpha's bargain.
She also said I had a dark green aura which ... might be a difference in perception, or she might be a manipulative bitch, I'll get to that in a minute. At the time, I had this belief that I had a black soul, black energy and that there was something horribly, terribly wrong with me. She also suggested that the [spirit] took advantage of me while I was working my 'spell,' that it ripped a chunk out of me, but she was going to heal it. I felt a weird, stabbing pain/tingle on my arm for the duration of her 'healing.' It was weird.
Energy Flow
The second major experience that I had with this kind of mysticism, before Alpha got out of it and I stopped really thinking about it much, came one night after a series of bad decisions. It was before talking with Cat, but after the rain incident.
Alpha was operating under the belief he was some kind of angel or higher-plane spirit, coloring his soul a brilliant white in contrast to my 'black.'
He said that he was able to change how his 'soul' felt and appeared, and that I should try it, since I was supposed to be this 'seer.' But that I wasn't supposed to try to imitate his energy, since he was an angel and that wouldn't work at all, with consequences.
You can probably imagine how that suggestion went.
I tried to mimic what I felt when I reached for my dear friend's energy, but I never quite succeeded. I determined that the issue was one of proximity - he was too distant, and the power I was reaching for was too vague and indistinct.
So I formed a lance of mental energy, with barbs in it, and I pierced the core of that fiery ball, telling myself I'd take only a small bit, for comparison.
Well, to my perception anyway, I succeeded well enough at bringing it closer, to examine it.
Now, this wouldn't be something I'd list here if there weren't at least a little evidence something happened, so this is that: while I was 'examining' my trophy, Alpha asked me what the hell I just did, saying that it hurt and he had no idea I was capable of anything like that and to never, ever do it again because it hurt.
But since I had a chunk anyway, I figured I'd try the other forbidden thing, to warp my energy to cause it to read like his.
My own power rolled under my examination, thrashing and twisting, never settled or still as I focused, fighting it to make it clean, a ball of milky white, rather than the black waters I normally envisioned. I burned off a lot of my black 'ball' of energy trying to perform this transmutation, but I succeeded ... for a moment or two, anyway.
Predictably, I got sick and nothing else came of it.
Aura Picture
I mentioned also that I was going to cover the 'aura color' a bit more thoroughly, and so I shall.
After college, I went to this psychic convention Mom had been invited to. It was in a small room, and I had a buzzing in my head, like all eyes were on me, picking at me and trying to make me give up my secrets. Among other things I looked into there, there was a little photo booth thing.
It took pictures of auras. Now, I've always believed in auras. People give off energy, especially electrical energy (which is how your iPhone works, by the way - capacitative touchscreens work off of the electrical energy and heat your fingers give off, not pressure. That's why it's nearly impossible to purse-dial with a touchscreen). A cloud of imperceptible energy surrounding everyine is plausible to me, because of that.
There've been studies on this matter - the aura is part of why amputees have phantom limb pains, in theory. An aura-reading machine took a picture of the aura of a leaf that had been cut in half before - and after - it was cut in half. The leaf retained its full-sized aura after the cutting.
Another important thing to note is that the pictures were all different. There were about six taken of different people, lying on the table by the machine's booth. Some were less intense in color, some more intense in color, with all kinds of different swirling hues overlaying the image of the person captured underneath. It was about $10 to get a picture taken with an interperetation attached, and mine didn't match anyone else's either. I think the woman doing the pictures was a little surprised at how intense it was.
![]()
Most of the other pictures I saw were less intense, and I remember them with a lot more greens and blues and such.
The color interperetations attached to the image follow:
Center: orange, creative, artistic
My left: yellow; sunny, exhilaration
My right: red, force of will.
(My) Left side: Future Influences; yellow
Your future is bound to be thought provoking. Like the rising sun, yellow brings warmth. Yellows are representative of the intellect. Each shade or tint of yellow expresses a type of function, ability, or expression of the intellect, from the craftiness of a mustard yellow to the high thought of a golden yellow. You approach the future with a sense of excitement and joy.
Center: orange represents energy with mental direction. You are ALIVE, artistic, perceptive, creative. Constructive self-expression is important to you.
(My) Right side: Expressed Energy; red
You work hard at what you do. Intensity of experience and fulness of living. Conquest, energy-expanding, you put the energy out. The world sees you as alive, outgoing, sexual, and powerful.
Other colors:
Violet: intuition, art, creativity, supernatural abilities, faith, imagination, incorporeality, reticence, mysteriousness.
Lavender: mysticism, magic, profundity, obsession, intolerance
(I can't tell the difference between violet and lavender. I'm sure there is one, but I can't, so I threw them both in.)
White: developed intellectuality, spirituality, vision of God, higher consciousness, dreaming, energy build-up, pain.
So that's interesting, and seems fairly accurate, too.
Assuming Cat wasn't entirely full of crap - which is a huge factor to consider - my only theory as to why she thought 'dark green' goes thus: A) these things change. The first half of the machine reading was 'incoming' or 'future' energy, after all.
As for B) ...
![]()
keeps me awake at night
The eyes of starlit heavens
following me secretly
So I'm going to preface this post with the admission that I - like so many others in this world - was very, very stupid as a child. So that's out of the way. Now, I've hinted obliquely and outright stated most of the content in this post in other places on this blog, as well (yes that's me, yes I know what I'm saying, writing backwards isn't that hard until e starts looking like it's supposed to be ɘ).
TL;DR: Jibber-jabber about crazy metaphysical stuff. Wall of text inbound, though there are pictures at the end.
Let's get started. Alpha, hon, you'll probably want to stop reading about here. (I know, you don't use that name anymore.)
Tarot
So some of my first experiences with any kind of mystical, magical stuff, other than the rites and rituals associated with organized religion, came from tarot cards. Innocent, easy tarot cards. Even hardcore anti-pagan Christians will sometimes get a tarot reading, or their horoscope did. It varies from case to case.
I tend to have about a 75% accuracy, I'd ... wager, anyway, though I'm horrible at answering questions with it. But then, that's partly the kind of spread I prefer - the standard Celtic Cross 10-card spread seems to generally assess the entire situation and give a full breakdown of the entire life, up to the moment in question. Mom is better, and that's part of the reason I never have her do a reading on me.
There are such stories there.
Nowadays I do a simple one-card draw almost every day, for general guidance. Since getting obsessed with the Slender Man mythos I tend to draw the Nine of Swords with alarming regularity - which is kind of fitting: this is the card of fear and nightmares.
When I was younger, I had a tarot reading at a local Renaissance fair, done at cost from a professional. My question was fairly simple: what is my power/strength/ability?
I have a tendency to attract cards from the Major Arcana. Of the entire spread, I only remember one of the cards now, and that one The Magician. The answer, as the tarot reader interpereted it, was that my power was the ability to change others' perception - to effectively appear how I want to other people.
The "Spirit" and the Rain
So this next bit is going to be from the gullible mind of an impressionable, sensitive child. Take it for what it is.
I've known Alpha most of my life, though we've only really met face to face the one time. At one point (I was in college, I remember), he got caught up in this ... pseudo-cult thing. It was headed by a girl who I spoke to once over the Internet and then never again, really. He's since stopped talking to her, and he requested not to talk about it with him ever again. She was rather persuasive, and they had this belief that he was some sort of angel-knight to protect her. (Emphasis on the first part.) She was some kind of figurehead magic-woman. I'm fuzzy on the details, partly because he didn't really talk about it much to me at the time, other than to suggest I was supposed to be some kind of seer, and powerful besides.
He wanted a taste of power, of better control, himself, and told me he had contacted a dark creature in order to get the training he wanted. (He gave it a specific name, but I don't remember.)
This is all relevant to a couple of specific incidents. One: he challenged me to try and develop the power he believed I had and use it.
He did this ... well, let me transcribe the conversation as well as I remember it.
Him: "I want you to picture someone. Anyone, really."
Me: "All right I've got something ... " It was a man-boy, a teenager or young adult, maybe, with dark hair and a denim jacket, seen from behind. Like a photograph.
Him: "All right. Now what I want you to do is I want you to make it rain. The [spirit] will know if you're successful. If you don't manage it within three days, that person, whoever it is, will die."
Me: "What."
In all honesty, in perfect honesty, I didn't care about the boy/man. I should have, but I didn't. It was an affront to my pride that he thought I couldn't accomplish this impossibility he presented me with, that there was some kind of condition for failure in this agreement. So I set out to do it, without the first inkling of how I should begin.
I'm fairly confident I did it wrong.
I'll admit, I was angry, a little, and prideful, and stubborn.
I took what I knew of how storms were born, how water is drug up from the river (and other bodies of water, but seriously, I live right on a river) to the clouds, gathering there until it becomes too heavy and falls. I took that knowledge, and I tried to force it along, to grow a storm as organically as possible. I had a pad of paper, and I like to draw, I focused my will through that, scratching dark circles with an ink pen onto the paper, representative of the storm's mass. From above, all storms make spirals, so I made spirals, concentric rings made up entirely of smaller rings, ink like water.
And then I focused all my will, and ... nothing happened.
A great big nothing, no storm clouds blocked the sky, though it was humid and there were some clouds. They just weren't right.
I kept at it, persistent.
It rained, a light sprinkle from an almost clear sky. Not enough to be serious, but enough to let me know I did something.
Maybe.
For the next week or so after whatever-I-did, I was laid low with some kind of illness, Mother Nature's fond "Fuck you," for tampering with her. I'm given to understand that whatever it was I did, I probably shouldn't have tried it.
Or, y'know, I could be crazy and caught a weird summer flu.
About Cat
This was actually when I met Alpha's friend Cat.
Cat and I talked over the internet, after the incident. She suggested that I'm a new soul, with only a couple of reincarnations to my name. She didn't like what I told her about the [spirit], or about Alpha's bargain.
She also said I had a dark green aura which ... might be a difference in perception, or she might be a manipulative bitch, I'll get to that in a minute. At the time, I had this belief that I had a black soul, black energy and that there was something horribly, terribly wrong with me. She also suggested that the [spirit] took advantage of me while I was working my 'spell,' that it ripped a chunk out of me, but she was going to heal it. I felt a weird, stabbing pain/tingle on my arm for the duration of her 'healing.' It was weird.
Energy Flow
The second major experience that I had with this kind of mysticism, before Alpha got out of it and I stopped really thinking about it much, came one night after a series of bad decisions. It was before talking with Cat, but after the rain incident.
Alpha was operating under the belief he was some kind of angel or higher-plane spirit, coloring his soul a brilliant white in contrast to my 'black.'
He said that he was able to change how his 'soul' felt and appeared, and that I should try it, since I was supposed to be this 'seer.' But that I wasn't supposed to try to imitate his energy, since he was an angel and that wouldn't work at all, with consequences.
You can probably imagine how that suggestion went.
I tried to mimic what I felt when I reached for my dear friend's energy, but I never quite succeeded. I determined that the issue was one of proximity - he was too distant, and the power I was reaching for was too vague and indistinct.
So I formed a lance of mental energy, with barbs in it, and I pierced the core of that fiery ball, telling myself I'd take only a small bit, for comparison.
Well, to my perception anyway, I succeeded well enough at bringing it closer, to examine it.
Now, this wouldn't be something I'd list here if there weren't at least a little evidence something happened, so this is that: while I was 'examining' my trophy, Alpha asked me what the hell I just did, saying that it hurt and he had no idea I was capable of anything like that and to never, ever do it again because it hurt.
But since I had a chunk anyway, I figured I'd try the other forbidden thing, to warp my energy to cause it to read like his.
My own power rolled under my examination, thrashing and twisting, never settled or still as I focused, fighting it to make it clean, a ball of milky white, rather than the black waters I normally envisioned. I burned off a lot of my black 'ball' of energy trying to perform this transmutation, but I succeeded ... for a moment or two, anyway.
Predictably, I got sick and nothing else came of it.
Aura Picture
I mentioned also that I was going to cover the 'aura color' a bit more thoroughly, and so I shall.
After college, I went to this psychic convention Mom had been invited to. It was in a small room, and I had a buzzing in my head, like all eyes were on me, picking at me and trying to make me give up my secrets. Among other things I looked into there, there was a little photo booth thing.
It took pictures of auras. Now, I've always believed in auras. People give off energy, especially electrical energy (which is how your iPhone works, by the way - capacitative touchscreens work off of the electrical energy and heat your fingers give off, not pressure. That's why it's nearly impossible to purse-dial with a touchscreen). A cloud of imperceptible energy surrounding everyine is plausible to me, because of that.
There've been studies on this matter - the aura is part of why amputees have phantom limb pains, in theory. An aura-reading machine took a picture of the aura of a leaf that had been cut in half before - and after - it was cut in half. The leaf retained its full-sized aura after the cutting.
Another important thing to note is that the pictures were all different. There were about six taken of different people, lying on the table by the machine's booth. Some were less intense in color, some more intense in color, with all kinds of different swirling hues overlaying the image of the person captured underneath. It was about $10 to get a picture taken with an interperetation attached, and mine didn't match anyone else's either. I think the woman doing the pictures was a little surprised at how intense it was.
The Aura Picture - exactly as it is in real life, more or less.
My computer doesn't know my scanner anymore, so I took a picture of it -
it's so glossy I can see a reflection of my phone and my thumb.
The color interperetations attached to the image follow:
Center: orange, creative, artistic
My left: yellow; sunny, exhilaration
My right: red, force of will.
(My) Left side: Future Influences; yellow
Your future is bound to be thought provoking. Like the rising sun, yellow brings warmth. Yellows are representative of the intellect. Each shade or tint of yellow expresses a type of function, ability, or expression of the intellect, from the craftiness of a mustard yellow to the high thought of a golden yellow. You approach the future with a sense of excitement and joy.
Center: orange represents energy with mental direction. You are ALIVE, artistic, perceptive, creative. Constructive self-expression is important to you.
(My) Right side: Expressed Energy; red
You work hard at what you do. Intensity of experience and fulness of living. Conquest, energy-expanding, you put the energy out. The world sees you as alive, outgoing, sexual, and powerful.
Other colors:
Violet: intuition, art, creativity, supernatural abilities, faith, imagination, incorporeality, reticence, mysteriousness.
Lavender: mysticism, magic, profundity, obsession, intolerance
(I can't tell the difference between violet and lavender. I'm sure there is one, but I can't, so I threw them both in.)
White: developed intellectuality, spirituality, vision of God, higher consciousness, dreaming, energy build-up, pain.
So that's interesting, and seems fairly accurate, too.
Assuming Cat wasn't entirely full of crap - which is a huge factor to consider - my only theory as to why she thought 'dark green' goes thus: A) these things change. The first half of the machine reading was 'incoming' or 'future' energy, after all.
As for B) ...
The original aura picture, with inverted colors.
Sure it's mostly blue, but there's some dark green there.
Remember to ignore that top spot - it's a
reflection from the overhead light.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Manic, Manic
There's a chemical in your brain
It's pouring sunshine and rage ...
Driving in the car.
You knew it was coming, could feel it building. Inopportune timing.
SHUT the FUCK up hate the sound of your voice don't talk don't say anything I hate you so much you and everyone you're so FUCKING stupid shut up shut up shut up - (we don't end up talking at all)
You aren't alone in the car, so you have no outlet.
Must drive safely.
Can't do anything.
But it's clawing up. You dig short, blunt claws into the steering wheel and barely notice.
Keep calm.
Keep control.
Every set of oncoming lights aggrivates it. Bright light RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EYES, FUCK.
(can she tell? I'm sorry about what I said before -)
NO I'M NOT DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING STUPID BITCH STUPID STUPID STUPID
Distracted as you pass road crews, the flickering lights at the tops of their trucks holding your eyes, until you catch your car in an unsafe swerve.
Keep calm. (she noticed that one. sorry.)
Keep control.
Every sound drags it to the fore. Everything grates.
HATE EVERYTHING.
There is a train in your path. You've pushed IT back enough to plan an alternate route, since the train ISN'T MOVING FUCK but that route takes you through Downtown. (where all the lights are bright)
STUPID WHORES HANG DRUNK OFF THEIR STUPID FUCKING MEN LIKE FASHIONABLE ACCESSORIES.
Stumbling across the road in loose adherence to traffic law are crowds of people in twos and fours. Friday night. Time to fucking par-tay. (we trade vague disgusted words at this)
She's gone. Wishes you good-night and walks inside her own house.
Somehow you manage to make it home.
FUCKING CHILDREN HANGING OUT OF DADDY'S CAR. HOPE YOU FUCKING CRASH YOU DRUNK BITCHES (I don't mean that ...)
You want to scream your incoherent rage, but by this point it's turned in on yourself. You don't scream, furthermore. A strangled, shrill noise rips itself from your throat, you claw at the foam roof, slam your palms into it, into the steering wheel. You claw your own scalp, trying to regain control.
It's not really a noisy tantrum, for all that. You don't make a lot of noise. Rarely talk unless necessary, pride yourself on moving silently. You don't laugh, sob, or groan out loud - it all catches in your throat. Always has.
It passes.
Eventually.
Walk inside. Food's ready.
(Mom noticed something wrong. sorry Mom.)
Hit a wall for the noise it makes on the way to the kitchen.
Calm enough to function.
Words come in the wrong order and I can't focus and I need to do SOMETHING but I don't know what.
(I think there's something wrong with me.)
It's pouring sunshine and rage ...
Driving in the car.
You knew it was coming, could feel it building. Inopportune timing.
SHUT the FUCK up hate the sound of your voice don't talk don't say anything I hate you so much you and everyone you're so FUCKING stupid shut up shut up shut up - (we don't end up talking at all)
You aren't alone in the car, so you have no outlet.
Must drive safely.
Can't do anything.
But it's clawing up. You dig short, blunt claws into the steering wheel and barely notice.
Keep calm.
Keep control.
Every set of oncoming lights aggrivates it. Bright light RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EYES, FUCK.
(can she tell? I'm sorry about what I said before -)
NO I'M NOT DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING STUPID BITCH STUPID STUPID STUPID
Distracted as you pass road crews, the flickering lights at the tops of their trucks holding your eyes, until you catch your car in an unsafe swerve.
Keep calm. (she noticed that one. sorry.)
Keep control.
Every sound drags it to the fore. Everything grates.
HATE EVERYTHING.
There is a train in your path. You've pushed IT back enough to plan an alternate route, since the train ISN'T MOVING FUCK but that route takes you through Downtown. (where all the lights are bright)
STUPID WHORES HANG DRUNK OFF THEIR STUPID FUCKING MEN LIKE FASHIONABLE ACCESSORIES.
Stumbling across the road in loose adherence to traffic law are crowds of people in twos and fours. Friday night. Time to fucking par-tay. (we trade vague disgusted words at this)
She's gone. Wishes you good-night and walks inside her own house.
Somehow you manage to make it home.
FUCKING CHILDREN HANGING OUT OF DADDY'S CAR. HOPE YOU FUCKING CRASH YOU DRUNK BITCHES (I don't mean that ...)
You want to scream your incoherent rage, but by this point it's turned in on yourself. You don't scream, furthermore. A strangled, shrill noise rips itself from your throat, you claw at the foam roof, slam your palms into it, into the steering wheel. You claw your own scalp, trying to regain control.
It's not really a noisy tantrum, for all that. You don't make a lot of noise. Rarely talk unless necessary, pride yourself on moving silently. You don't laugh, sob, or groan out loud - it all catches in your throat. Always has.
It passes.
Eventually.
Walk inside. Food's ready.
(Mom noticed something wrong. sorry Mom.)
Hit a wall for the noise it makes on the way to the kitchen.
Calm enough to function.
Words come in the wrong order and I can't focus and I need to do SOMETHING but I don't know what.
(I think there's something wrong with me.)
Friday, May 20, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
A Sense of Darkness
Hell, why not, this is why people keep journals, right?
Tonight is Saturday night. I leave work the same as I always do, a little later than most everyone else, but not terribly so. There's a woman waiting for a ride, so I briefly chat with her. I've been given a kind of honorary ... thing which grants me better parking spaces than most of my coworkers, so I look for the allotted parking space before I leave.
As I reach my car, I am nearly overwhelmed with the sense that I should not take the Interstate. As I mentioned, I tend to listen to my instincts, even if they make no sense. The weather isn't bad; there's no reason to take the other route, but I feel like I should. Pulling out, I turn right, and am torn between two options. For no discernable reason, I turn right, taking the slightly longer path out of the lot, past a stand of trees. Everything looks like the stray limbs of some eldritch horror, but if something was watching me, I could not say. Night driving takes a toll on me, not because it is so dark, but because of the brief flashes of intense light.
There is something off. I am on edge the entire trip home.
When I cross the train tracks, near to my work, I am confronted with a red light, and there is a man in the center of it all, directing traffic. This is unusual. To my right, along the side of the road, there is a vehicle with lights flashing, though I can see no cause for this disruption. It does not hinder me terribly.
It is hard not to see the Tall Man in the many stands of trees, though truly I doubt He was there.
He is after all so busy elsewhere, is He not?
When I enter town proper, there are more flashing lights, and a siren. As I pull up to a red light, a fire truck speeds through, going from right to left across my field of vision.
There is not much else to report; my sense of dread seems to have been unfounded.
Of course, when I finally arrived home, there was a wild, swinging party going on at my neighbor's house, and no parking to be found the entire block. This was unusual only in that their gathering made any noise at all; in months prior, it had been deathly silent in the house located at the epicenter of the lost parking, and only the leaving visitors were any indication of where to lay blame. Tonight I had to use a back alley, and come through the back fence. Every shape seemed ominous until identified. Even the large tree was vaguely threatening.
I have no tolerance for gatherings, even at the best of times. I am not invited to such parties because I have no interest in such parties. I must confess I do not like people very much, and I have grown very tired of having to solve their problems over the course of my employment. Except that I am still in need of revenue, I cannot say that I will be displeased to become free from my tether.
Every day I am forced to think because another person refuses to, I find the façade cracks a little bit more, and I care a little bit less.
I am just so tired of people.
Tonight is Saturday night. I leave work the same as I always do, a little later than most everyone else, but not terribly so. There's a woman waiting for a ride, so I briefly chat with her. I've been given a kind of honorary ... thing which grants me better parking spaces than most of my coworkers, so I look for the allotted parking space before I leave.
As I reach my car, I am nearly overwhelmed with the sense that I should not take the Interstate. As I mentioned, I tend to listen to my instincts, even if they make no sense. The weather isn't bad; there's no reason to take the other route, but I feel like I should. Pulling out, I turn right, and am torn between two options. For no discernable reason, I turn right, taking the slightly longer path out of the lot, past a stand of trees. Everything looks like the stray limbs of some eldritch horror, but if something was watching me, I could not say. Night driving takes a toll on me, not because it is so dark, but because of the brief flashes of intense light.
There is something off. I am on edge the entire trip home.
When I cross the train tracks, near to my work, I am confronted with a red light, and there is a man in the center of it all, directing traffic. This is unusual. To my right, along the side of the road, there is a vehicle with lights flashing, though I can see no cause for this disruption. It does not hinder me terribly.
It is hard not to see the Tall Man in the many stands of trees, though truly I doubt He was there.
He is after all so busy elsewhere, is He not?
When I enter town proper, there are more flashing lights, and a siren. As I pull up to a red light, a fire truck speeds through, going from right to left across my field of vision.
There is not much else to report; my sense of dread seems to have been unfounded.
Of course, when I finally arrived home, there was a wild, swinging party going on at my neighbor's house, and no parking to be found the entire block. This was unusual only in that their gathering made any noise at all; in months prior, it had been deathly silent in the house located at the epicenter of the lost parking, and only the leaving visitors were any indication of where to lay blame. Tonight I had to use a back alley, and come through the back fence. Every shape seemed ominous until identified. Even the large tree was vaguely threatening.
I have no tolerance for gatherings, even at the best of times. I am not invited to such parties because I have no interest in such parties. I must confess I do not like people very much, and I have grown very tired of having to solve their problems over the course of my employment. Except that I am still in need of revenue, I cannot say that I will be displeased to become free from my tether.
Every day I am forced to think because another person refuses to, I find the façade cracks a little bit more, and I care a little bit less.
I am just so tired of people.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Games: Video, Vampire
3/9/11
Trying out this InkPad app.
In which I decide to live up to my claim of NOT being a Slender Man blog. (My deit(ies)y, Ava and Reach. Feel bad for them.)
So, I've gone back to playing Vampire the Masquerade - Bloodlines again. Not a bad game, by far. Buggy at base game, but that's what player-made mods are good for. I wouldn't willingly play Oblivion without the Unofficial patches, and I can't play VtM-B without one; trying to do so caused a game-breaking "you shall not pass" style bug, where my progress was stopped by a kind of Groundhog Day cutscene loop.
Very frustrating.
So, as you might be able to guess, my very favorite old World of Darkness vampire to play is Malkavian, because they put the "crazy" in Crazy Awesome. They're literally an entire clan full of Cassandra Truths and Power Born of Madness.
And in a video game with limited dialogue choices, they REALLY capitalize on the potential to see the future and pretty much outline the entire plot in the first act, while being circuitous enough in their speech patterns that you only really figure out what you mean by what you're saying after the event you're referring to has already happened. The difference between a normal playthrough and a Malkie playthrough is significant enough that it's definitely worth doing... Though if you're averse to spoilers, you should avoid it on first playthrough. Sometimes, the Malkavian ISN'T that difficult to comprehend, especially if you know your pop-culture and mythology.
I bring all this up as a wonderfully shameless plug for my Malkavian Let's Play, incidentally. You should totally check that out.
4srs.
Actually it sucks. So meh.
Trying out this InkPad app.
In which I decide to live up to my claim of NOT being a Slender Man blog. (My deit(ies)y, Ava and Reach. Feel bad for them.)
So, I've gone back to playing Vampire the Masquerade - Bloodlines again. Not a bad game, by far. Buggy at base game, but that's what player-made mods are good for. I wouldn't willingly play Oblivion without the Unofficial patches, and I can't play VtM-B without one; trying to do so caused a game-breaking "you shall not pass" style bug, where my progress was stopped by a kind of Groundhog Day cutscene loop.
Very frustrating.
So, as you might be able to guess, my very favorite old World of Darkness vampire to play is Malkavian, because they put the "crazy" in Crazy Awesome. They're literally an entire clan full of Cassandra Truths and Power Born of Madness.
And in a video game with limited dialogue choices, they REALLY capitalize on the potential to see the future and pretty much outline the entire plot in the first act, while being circuitous enough in their speech patterns that you only really figure out what you mean by what you're saying after the event you're referring to has already happened. The difference between a normal playthrough and a Malkie playthrough is significant enough that it's definitely worth doing... Though if you're averse to spoilers, you should avoid it on first playthrough. Sometimes, the Malkavian ISN'T that difficult to comprehend, especially if you know your pop-culture and mythology.
I bring all this up as a wonderfully shameless plug for my Malkavian Let's Play, incidentally. You should totally check that out.
4srs.
Actually it sucks. So meh.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Surprisingly Not Dead
Still late, though. Sorry 'bout that. Look up and it's 6PM and realized I hadn't yet posted this.
AND THEN IT WAS TOMORROW.
Sooooo.
I'm a child of the modern, fear-mongering media. You know, the one that's happy to remind you, constantly, that not only are psychopaths real, but they look like anybody else, right up until they cut your skin off and wear it as a suit, all the while pretending to BE you.
At which point, they'll look kind of like YOU, not anybody else.
So, right, where was I going with this?
Ah, yes, the Mythos, because my brain has latched onto that like a starving man might latch onto a stripper covered in delicious cake.
Being, as I am, conditioned toward a certain level of mistrust for my fellow man (and wo-man), it should come as no surprise that the High Octane Nightmare and/or Paranoia Fuel that is the Slender Man has a special place inhell my heart, even if I dismiss the Man Himself as false.
Proxies.
Casual bystanders (read: the people who came here to find out how to leave Gilneas before the plot says you can (protip: you can't)) are probably going, "double-you-tea-eff, mate, what's a proxy?"
And I am an endless font of exposition.
Proxies are average (or not) people who've been brainwashed by Slendy to act for him - willingly or otherwise. In a sense, they are Slendy ... By proxy, hence the name.
See, even if there IS no Slender Man, that's terrifying to me.
For instance, say somebody takes the whole thing even a little bit more seriously than I do, and decides that not only are they being stalked, they're being Hallowed or whatever, and now they're brainwashed and crazy.
So of course the only logical thing to do is hunt down other Runners with a knife.
A) They succeed at the stabbing and the killing and the murder, and continue doing so until either they kill themselves or get arrested.
Or:
B) They fail, getting killed/injured by a Runner who takes it just as seriously as they do. Legal/moral/my god what have I done to follow. Same deal if it's just a prank getting out of hand, honestly, with even more "My God What Have I Done." Seasoned to taste, with just a hint of vanilla to cover up the stench. OF DEATH.
Horrifying, innit?
Hell, you could be a proxy.
I could be a proxy. I'm not, but you certainly don't know that.
Also I come off as creepy, I think.
Sometimes.
AND THEN IT WAS TOMORROW.
Sooooo.
I'm a child of the modern, fear-mongering media. You know, the one that's happy to remind you, constantly, that not only are psychopaths real, but they look like anybody else, right up until they cut your skin off and wear it as a suit, all the while pretending to BE you.
At which point, they'll look kind of like YOU, not anybody else.
So, right, where was I going with this?
Ah, yes, the Mythos, because my brain has latched onto that like a starving man might latch onto a stripper covered in delicious cake.
Being, as I am, conditioned toward a certain level of mistrust for my fellow man (and wo-man), it should come as no surprise that the High Octane Nightmare and/or Paranoia Fuel that is the Slender Man has a special place in
Proxies.
Casual bystanders (read: the people who came here to find out how to leave Gilneas before the plot says you can (protip: you can't)) are probably going, "double-you-tea-eff, mate, what's a proxy?"
And I am an endless font of exposition.
Proxies are average (or not) people who've been brainwashed by Slendy to act for him - willingly or otherwise. In a sense, they are Slendy ... By proxy, hence the name.
See, even if there IS no Slender Man, that's terrifying to me.
For instance, say somebody takes the whole thing even a little bit more seriously than I do, and decides that not only are they being stalked, they're being Hallowed or whatever, and now they're brainwashed and crazy.
So of course the only logical thing to do is hunt down other Runners with a knife.
A) They succeed at the stabbing and the killing and the murder, and continue doing so until either they kill themselves or get arrested.
Or:
B) They fail, getting killed/injured by a Runner who takes it just as seriously as they do. Legal/moral/my god what have I done to follow. Same deal if it's just a prank getting out of hand, honestly, with even more "My God What Have I Done." Seasoned to taste, with just a hint of vanilla to cover up the stench. OF DEATH.
Horrifying, innit?
Hell, you could be a proxy.
I could be a proxy. I'm not, but you certainly don't know that.
Also I come off as creepy, I think.
Sometimes.
Friday, February 25, 2011
DooM ddO nA
Oh ... dear. This will be difficult to transcribe.
.god yzal eht revo spmuj xof nworb kciuq ehT s'tI
So, SIHT !!!!ATRAPS SI SIHT ynnuf
I'm SI htiw ssem ot
planning ADNIK elpoep rehto
to get NUF "You
(X) contacts ROF SDRAWKCAB write in tongues"
.lol. ZLUL EHT Indeed. oopsie?
yadot ereh eb t'ndluoc shkeN ~ olleh ,olleH w
ehS .eb ot tnaw t'ndid ehs esuaceb h
dna thgisni reh morf tupni detnaw oo
teg t'nod I .tobor a to hcum oot s'ehs p
I'm losing track of which way goes forward. .hcum tuo s
It's fun to write like that. Feels oddly natural. senihprodnE
era sllip esuaceb tsuJ oops .taerg era
dna cigam ni eveileb I evitceffeni
raelc a no llaf niar gnikam Oh, hello!
kcab gninaeL .yad ynnus If you're looking for
gnihctaw dna ecnef eht no my angstbucket, she
ILLOGICAL fo tap-rettip elttil eht wanted to be not-a-
NIAR An Odd Mood robot for the night.
on htiw what the robot states is I don't think we've
.sduolC Feb. 22, 2011, 12:14 AM met
she keeps her inner
child around her neck.
I worry sometimes about things that probably aren't
real. Is that wrong? gnieb rebmemer I
ytreporp etavirp otno gnikaens dna elttil
tub ,yhw rebmemer yllaer t'nac I ... ot
saw I dna ot desoppus t'nerew ew
erew ereht hguoht neve enola lla
a saw ereht dna tsrif ta ereht sdik rehto
tuaeb os saw ti dna ecalp terces
i eht ni ecaep eneres fo tnemom tahT
luf tnemele ruo otdetcennoc tsrif ew nehw loop
eybdoog gniyaS .pirt gnipmac hsilrig
secalp dliw gnitisiv ssim I .das os saw
Why am I writing all this BACKWARDS?
Hello! ¡ɥnp 'unɈ ϛ,+! əϛnɒɔəє| +ϛə+ ɦ+!|ɒuoϛɹəd əuo əɥ+
¡olləH rof gip gnicaf sdrawkcab a s'tI I think the Sharpie
fumes are getting to me.
.nwod os eb ton ot ecin sleef tI ecno rof thgir lla m'I
.ti ekil I . larutan ylgrisirprus sleef sihT
and green, a vivid, emerald, green. I never wanted to leave.
nomroM taht no eert eht htiw gninummoCeybdoog gniyaS .pirt gnipmac hsilrig
secalp dliw gnitisiv ssim I .das os saw
Why am I writing all this BACKWARDS?
Hello! ¡ɥnp 'unɈ ϛ,+! əϛnɒɔəє| +ϛə+ ɦ+!|ɒuoϛɹəd əuo əɥ+
¡olləH rof gip gnicaf sdrawkcab a s'tI I think the Sharpie
fumes are getting to me.
.nwod os eb ton ot ecin sleef tI ecno rof thgir lla m'I
.ti ekil I . larutan ylgrisirprus sleef sihT
So, you
DO write
in tongues.
Great.E T
N hi
D s
O mad
R ness
P brought
N hi
D s
O mad
R ness
P brought
H to
I you e __0
N by e // |=|
E e // |=|
S e // |=|
whee // |=|
0==// |=|
I you e __0
N by e // |=|
E e // |=|
S e // |=|
whee // |=|
0==// |=|
YHW
DLUOHS
EB TON I
? YPPAH
I'm
pretty
sure it's
not my
ears that
are ringing
but my
bedroom
I don't
hear it
anywhere
else.
Kind of
has a
pattern to
it like
dataz
Hello, hello,
hola! My
place con
vertigo ....
Thursday, February 17, 2011
2/15/2011 EXPLODING QUIETLY
My thought patterns are a little bit disturbed right now.
If you want a normal happy blog you might want to check back Monday
NEVER
HA HA HA
LONELINESS:
You are not alone.
And yet you are alone.
So very alone.
LONELINESS:
You are not alone.
And yet you are alone.
SO VERY ALONE.
SO
INSIGNIFICANT
I hate
everything
There's a RINGING in my ears
I'm probably going deaf.
You know you say that but you really do have good hearing. How else do you hear the noises in the walls when all else is quiet?
The sensory tests ... that call the quality agent couldn't even hear words in, raising your hand because you heard a phone ring in the next room over despite noise-cancelling headphones, your night vision is remarkable. Writing normally, by GLOWSTICK. All four glasses tasted different. Hearing the high whine of an "off" TV. Perceiving that there are worlds on worlds of color.
Oh god.
That drawing.
Any kind of free thought is unsettling. Like that simple pencil drawing on black paper. You got an honorable mention for an hour's work.
I hate everything.
I try not to think too much.
There is static in my EYES.
Usually I can at least outline the chaos
I bet you $20USD I can't read even half of this in the morning.
my head hurts
everything
hurts
Oh my god.
can we pretend (airplanes) = (shooting stars)?
Getting Paid
Raspberry Cheesecake Cookies BEAR!
Life is pretty good right now really, for me. HAT! COOKIES!
Think of
HAPPY
THOUGHTS
Is this what going mad feels like?
If life is so good why can't I just focus on
That?!
I should try to make friends in real life.
Beneath the pleasant happy surface you are FUCKING INSANE
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Everything hurts
nanananananananaBATMAN
I feel so alone especially when there are a I CAN SEE YOU
lot of people I can't talk to around. I CAN SEE YOU
OTHER PEOPLE CAN'T RELATE TO ME IRL. I CAN SEE YOU
Noises in the walls.
I'M NOT I Darkest just before DAWN
PARALYZED CAN'T oh my god I think
BUT I SEEM SEE I'm actually going
TO BE STRUCK ANYTHING insane
BY YOU So ALONE can see you. "Going"?So if it wears black clothing, dyes its hair black, is deathly pale, and cries a lot, is it a pathetic emo kid? I think it is. Stupid whiny bitch.
99% of everything is SHIT shutupshutup
So tense. Keep clenching my fist. And jaw. shutupshutup
emphasize everything
Had a bit of a freak-out last night when I got home. Shaking and jittery.
"I'm having a panic attack!" Maybe it's the caffeine?
Is there anybody out there 'coz it's gettin' harder and harder to BREATHE.
Shaking cold trying to ... BUFFERING ...
BOOM .youarenotprepared. Dare you to read this.
ramming always works (with a bat) Assume it IS just Then assume
an ARG even one "Masky"
takes it as srs as you do. Never sleep again.
If Mom died I'd fall apart. "Daddy" wonder what that's like.
OHGODOHGODOH
GODOHGODOHGOD
OHGODOHGODOH Think of something else
GOD ANYTHING ELSE
Do you really think you could survive?
So when is the flood coming?
DON'T The lol f
NEED rap has plants o
ANY eaten my grow r Red Robes
THING Pandora c better g HANDS ARE SMALL
OR PAN o to e NOT YOURS
ANY DOR l DEATH t MY OWN
ONE A d METAL the IDIOT
EAT YOU world I hate you
OF Insignificant what More out of space than empty space
HIGHER Little Blue Planet am Set the world on fire
PURPOSE I?
There is no one to answer. Have always felt like I'm being watched
I don't feel safe. PARANOIA IS BAD OKAY.
I don't feel safe in my house right now. Shaking
I can see the light flickering every so often. Cold Automatic writing
I walked in tonight and I went straight for my sword. Shaking
HANDS ARE SHAKING COLD Cold
Sleeping with the light on again.
Blood red.
I DON'T FEEL SAFE
MONSTER
INHUMAN
YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL
YOU LIKE TO PRETEND YOU'RE SOMETHING SPECIAL BUT YOU'RE NOTSELF-
IMPORTANT YOU PEOPLE ARE ALL SO DAMN
FUCK
EVERYTHING
Mom claims to have spoken to a psychic I never met who claimed that she was descended from some kind of red-robed ... folk. Powerful folk. But she's protected. BLOCKED. An angel guardian and an island of blissful ignorance. I am not protected. I don't think.
I feel sometimes like there is something waiting beyond sight, waiting for me to drop my guard.
COLDCOLD
COLDCOLD
COLD
COLDCOLD
COLD
CAN'T SLEEP
So Cold
I think I'm really going mad.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
CIV
So, Firday I purchased a new game to try to take my mind off of being so depressed/paranoid/sobbing ball of angst. That game was Civilization IV.
I think I've actually found something to do between digsites. Wow.
So the first thing you need to know about Civ that I didn't fully comprehend at first is that it's very, very long. Like, very. Like, by the time the day was out, I wasn't quite done with the game I'd started that morning.
This isn't the first or only game of its kind that I've played. I mean, Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri is one of the bigger reasons I plan to keep a computer with XP around for a while.
But yes. Civ. Long. There are no zerg.
That said, I had a bit of fun playing around with it.
At first.
Once I got over how long it took to even get my first other unit, I ran up against the fact that I pretty much had to shoot for the score victory, because the few cultures (read all) that had survived to the modern era didn't really like me well enough to vote for me (because they didn't like each other to tolerate me associating with all of them). Next time I play peacefully I'm tempted to see if I can strong-arm my opponents into starting up long, bloody wars to ostracize and murder the competition for me.
You know. Peacefully.
Alternatively, nukes.
The Space Race is another win condition I might be able to do peacefully, except for how long it takes to get there, which I am slowly shortening down to the lowest possible number.
I discovered something in pursuing the Space Race, too.
The AI? (On Chieftan difficulty?) Not really designed to operate in a void. I started up a new playthrough after my first attempt crashed to the desktop (damn you, Windows), remaining peaceful - and isolated, thanks to living on a tiny island. By the time the other cultures' feeble wooden ships skimmed near my shores, I was exploring nuclear technology - and defending myself against the possibility that, I dunno, maybe one of my own engineers would go nuts and bomb my own cities, maybe? None of the other cultures were even in a position to try to comprehend the technologies I was developing. I was in a position to dominate the world, and I was seriously contemplating crushing my opposition under the sheer force of my nuclear might because I could do so unopposed.
And I think I'm going to do that on my next playthrough.
Which brings me to something else that amuses me greatly: Mom brought up that throughout her listening to my discovery of new technologies, there was never the mention of any kind of witch burnings, nor even the Crusades or any kind of religious warfare. Despite the fact that my technology rapidly approached the 'indistinguishable from magic' point compared to my contemporaries, and I founded four separate religions on my tiny island.
Burn the witch! Before she BURNS YOU IN THE RIGHTEOUS NUCLEAR FIRE OF GOD!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - BOOM!
I think I've actually found something to do between digsites. Wow.
So the first thing you need to know about Civ that I didn't fully comprehend at first is that it's very, very long. Like, very. Like, by the time the day was out, I wasn't quite done with the game I'd started that morning.
This isn't the first or only game of its kind that I've played. I mean, Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri is one of the bigger reasons I plan to keep a computer with XP around for a while.
But yes. Civ. Long. There are no zerg.
That said, I had a bit of fun playing around with it.
At first.
Once I got over how long it took to even get my first other unit, I ran up against the fact that I pretty much had to shoot for the score victory, because the few cultures (read all) that had survived to the modern era didn't really like me well enough to vote for me (because they didn't like each other to tolerate me associating with all of them). Next time I play peacefully I'm tempted to see if I can strong-arm my opponents into starting up long, bloody wars to ostracize and murder the competition for me.
You know. Peacefully.
Alternatively, nukes.
The Space Race is another win condition I might be able to do peacefully, except for how long it takes to get there, which I am slowly shortening down to the lowest possible number.
I discovered something in pursuing the Space Race, too.
The AI? (On Chieftan difficulty?) Not really designed to operate in a void. I started up a new playthrough after my first attempt crashed to the desktop (damn you, Windows), remaining peaceful - and isolated, thanks to living on a tiny island. By the time the other cultures' feeble wooden ships skimmed near my shores, I was exploring nuclear technology - and defending myself against the possibility that, I dunno, maybe one of my own engineers would go nuts and bomb my own cities, maybe? None of the other cultures were even in a position to try to comprehend the technologies I was developing. I was in a position to dominate the world, and I was seriously contemplating crushing my opposition under the sheer force of my nuclear might because I could do so unopposed.
And I think I'm going to do that on my next playthrough.
Which brings me to something else that amuses me greatly: Mom brought up that throughout her listening to my discovery of new technologies, there was never the mention of any kind of witch burnings, nor even the Crusades or any kind of religious warfare. Despite the fact that my technology rapidly approached the 'indistinguishable from magic' point compared to my contemporaries, and I founded four separate religions on my tiny island.
Burn the witch! Before she BURNS YOU IN THE RIGHTEOUS NUCLEAR FIRE OF GOD!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - BOOM!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Sleepy Freewrite
Sleepy Freewrite
I need more sleep than I'm getting
I am having so many problems focusing I need to make the computer read it to me while I read it with my eyes. LOLOLOLOLOL
Slendy ruins techno and makes the TV antenna's loss of signal more worrisome than it should ever be.
He hit me with his ||||||||.
That's cool ._.
There is a numb spot on my leg. It itches.
I am running out of paper
An if ye harm none
ABOVE ALL ELSE HARM NONE
Tappa tappa tappa 40k songs guy has music in his mind and it is hard to ignore when it escapes
ONE BY ONE HIS SPOTS FELL OFF
( X )
Splendorman -> Slenderman
I wonder if you can see the Slender Man in any other way than film if you are not his intended victim.
If the Slender Man was real and he abducts children and he always appears on film why is He not in more proud parents' home videos?
IT'S SPLENDOR MAN!!! :D
I can hear the music someone else is listening to at the other end of the table and only just cannot make out the words; it is very LOUD.
Wanna sleep. By the time this is read I will have moved to an easier work schedule and my brain will be less mushy. I am so tired and it is hard to keep my eyes open.
I can see the reflection of the overhead lights and my hair in my glasses which is cool. I watch shadows and reflections as much as the real world.
Burning eyes are burning. TIRED AND COLD my eyes burn
Mtn. Dew: Because we as a society have become too lazy to spell out "Mountain." WTF.
"I before E except after C."
"Well, what about 'leisure' and 'seizure'?"
"Ah, |||| it."
English is the language that beats up other languages and takes their loose grammar.
Germ-X smells like dying germs.
THIS IS DRY READING.
So very bored in the brain I am so tired.
|||| you SLabs. Only one Labyrinth, but everybody calls it SLabs. Why is that? Because SLabs is a subsection of HELL where bad tanks go to DIE. |||| you SLabs.
"Where were you when the world stopped turnin'
on that September day?"
America is self-important.
I can smell food because someone has food and I am hungry ANGRY SIMLISH AND ARM WAVING MY MOODS ARE RED-LINING I HATE YOU SELF.
Mood swings, of a sort.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I want a nap.
I am not allowed to sleep.
My hand has fallen asleep and when I twitch my fingers I can feel fizzy blood tingling in my wrist and palm and fingertips all the way up to my elbow. I punched my wall on accident and my finger started bleeding it still hurts I think I have a minor infection.
TRUE ART IS ANGSTY. I CAN'T SLEEP JUST WANT A NAP TO SLEEP IS THAT SO BAD?
Isn't it nice to have a computer that will talk to you?
TRUE ART IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE AS IS THIS READING MY EYES HAVE GLAZED OVER IT ISN'T VERY HARD I JUST CAN'T FOCUS RIGHT NOW AT ALL.
There are still things to do
And it is important that I do them
The channel keeps changing in my head and I have no control over the remote I can't focus I can't focus I can't think I'm so tired I don't know anything why am I so tired?
I am also sick.
Less than three, OMG LOVE COMPUTER FANTASY
Out of space now KTHXBYE
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Obsession
Since right now I have an unhealthy fascination with someone tall, dark, and faceless (with tentacles), I figure now's as good a time as any to post my thoughts on it.
Sure.
Who says there's just one Operator/Slender Man?
Sure, he/it/they can bend reality around one slender appendage or another, but given how widely spread his/its/their activities are becoming, as well as the variance in his/its/their behavior between blogs, vlogs, etc., it's not unreasonable to suggest there might be more than one of these abominations wandering about. This can also explain differences in Slendy's stated abilities. Hell, H(a)unting all-but states it outright.
Alternatively, there is just one Slender Man, and he's just messing with us.
Most depictions are downright malevolent, though.
It's like Cthulhu or a feral, man-eating lion or something. Killing people and abducting kids seems to be more or less what Slendy does. The vlogs and blogs from people who survive seem to be as much about Slendy observing them as the other way around - it's like he/it/they is/are just too alien to call him/it/them "evil" - who says he/it/they ascribe to any morality, much less a human-centric one? Which isn't to say he/it/they are harmless, or that sane people with any regard whatsoever for their own wellbeing should seek him/it/them out: see also feral, man-eating lion.
Incidentally, I don't know if this ever came up, but I write in a notebook before posting. I've always had a habit of decorating the margins, but now in addition to the random eyeballs and emoticons I normally doodle, I'm making notes of relevant Tropes and sketching Slender Men and Operator symbols.
Sure.
Who says there's just one Operator/Slender Man?
Sure, he/it/they can bend reality around one slender appendage or another, but given how widely spread his/its/their activities are becoming, as well as the variance in his/its/their behavior between blogs, vlogs, etc., it's not unreasonable to suggest there might be more than one of these abominations wandering about. This can also explain differences in Slendy's stated abilities. Hell, H(a)unting all-but states it outright.
Alternatively, there is just one Slender Man, and he's just messing with us.
Most depictions are downright malevolent, though.
It's like Cthulhu or a feral, man-eating lion or something. Killing people and abducting kids seems to be more or less what Slendy does. The vlogs and blogs from people who survive seem to be as much about Slendy observing them as the other way around - it's like he/it/they is/are just too alien to call him/it/them "evil" - who says he/it/they ascribe to any morality, much less a human-centric one? Which isn't to say he/it/they are harmless, or that sane people with any regard whatsoever for their own wellbeing should seek him/it/them out: see also feral, man-eating lion.
Incidentally, I don't know if this ever came up, but I write in a notebook before posting. I've always had a habit of decorating the margins, but now in addition to the random eyeballs and emoticons I normally doodle, I'm making notes of relevant Tropes and sketching Slender Men and Operator symbols.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Comforting Thoughts for Restful Sleep
Even if the Slender Man were to turn up, I'd never know it: I get sick a lot anyway, it is balls cold up here all the time in the winter, and I tend to avoid cameras of any shape, size, or description (I'm not precisely proud of my appearance).
I'm also a very boring person in real life. Seriously. I go to work, I come home, I play World of Warcraft, and sometimes I watch movies and listen to music. I'd probably bore the hell out of any real-life stalker, supernatural or not.
Also, after getting over the initial shock of someone with no face and tentacles getting into my house past the locks and burglar alarm, and after possibly attempting to bludgeon it to death, I'd likely be more curious than afraid, and more interested in opening some kind of dialogue than fleeing for my life. (How does his/its Alien Geometries work? How does it see without a face? How does it laugh without a mouth - or does it? Can I learn to be a supernatural ninja?)
Finally, I am a very oblivious person, so I'd totally end up not noticing I was being stalked, anyway.
Despite all this, it's probably apparent that paranoia is a persistent problem for me.
And I'm developing a bit of a cough ....
I'm also a very boring person in real life. Seriously. I go to work, I come home, I play World of Warcraft, and sometimes I watch movies and listen to music. I'd probably bore the hell out of any real-life stalker, supernatural or not.
Also, after getting over the initial shock of someone with no face and tentacles getting into my house past the locks and burglar alarm, and after possibly attempting to bludgeon it to death, I'd likely be more curious than afraid, and more interested in opening some kind of dialogue than fleeing for my life. (How does his/its Alien Geometries work? How does it see without a face? How does it laugh without a mouth - or does it? Can I learn to be a supernatural ninja?)
Finally, I am a very oblivious person, so I'd totally end up not noticing I was being stalked, anyway.
Despite all this, it's probably apparent that paranoia is a persistent problem for me.
And I'm developing a bit of a cough ....
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Winter Driving
Whoever came up with this idea should have been shot.
It is 7:45 when I leave my house, snow shovel in hand, to greet the day. It isn't actually that cold, but the snow has been falling continuously since last night. Mom is helping me dig out both of our cars.
Speed is of the essence: we both have to get to work this morning. On the radio, I heard that all the area schools have shut down for the day, but that hardly matters to our employers - or our wallets. Our street has not bee plowed, so Mom warns me that I should just take it slow. Going too quickly is an easy guarantee that something will go wrong.
I should have listened.
I can feel myself losing control before it happens, first a little, then a lot. I end up sideways across both lanes of traffic over a small curve in the road, and I felt my tail end plow sideways through a snowbank.
I am lucky; I am still on the road, and I did not hit anyone. I get myself straightened out before someone hits me.
"I can see the road."
It has become my Survival Mantra and a happy lie. I can see two strips of pavement where others have come before me - until I find myself following a vague black shape. It kicks up a cloud of snow so thick I cannot see the road - or anything else, for that matter.
It is a tense drive. The road wasn't especially well-maintained, and my job is actually in the next town over.
It is an incredible relief to see buildings again, and I find myself laughing when I see on a bank sign how early I am.
When I finally get myself parked, I call Mom to let her know I'm okay.
I have no idea how I'm going to get home: the sun will be down before I am allowed to leave.
It is 7:45 when I leave my house, snow shovel in hand, to greet the day. It isn't actually that cold, but the snow has been falling continuously since last night. Mom is helping me dig out both of our cars.
Speed is of the essence: we both have to get to work this morning. On the radio, I heard that all the area schools have shut down for the day, but that hardly matters to our employers - or our wallets. Our street has not bee plowed, so Mom warns me that I should just take it slow. Going too quickly is an easy guarantee that something will go wrong.
I should have listened.
I can feel myself losing control before it happens, first a little, then a lot. I end up sideways across both lanes of traffic over a small curve in the road, and I felt my tail end plow sideways through a snowbank.
I am lucky; I am still on the road, and I did not hit anyone. I get myself straightened out before someone hits me.
"I can see the road."
It has become my Survival Mantra and a happy lie. I can see two strips of pavement where others have come before me - until I find myself following a vague black shape. It kicks up a cloud of snow so thick I cannot see the road - or anything else, for that matter.
It is a tense drive. The road wasn't especially well-maintained, and my job is actually in the next town over.
It is an incredible relief to see buildings again, and I find myself laughing when I see on a bank sign how early I am.
When I finally get myself parked, I call Mom to let her know I'm okay.
I have no idea how I'm going to get home: the sun will be down before I am allowed to leave.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Paranoia
When you think you're really alone,
Feel the eyes of someone looking in on you~
Some days I feel like I am going insane.
There are spots over my eyes.
Imagine the snow from an old television set at about 10% opacity, overlaying the entire world. I see sparks jumping throughout my field of vision, blue and red lightning, and tiny black singularities, ringed in red. The doctors insist that there is nothing inside my eyes to block my field of vision. I suspect it to be some kind of disturbance. Perhaps all that headbanging as a child knocked a few neurons loose.
Today, these dots coalesce to appear as spiders, slowly sinking from the ceiling. It is unsettling in part because it occurs only in my peripheral vision, and when I look, there is nothing there.
There is also music in my mind, a never-ending murmur of sound. I hear songs as they were first sung to me, capturing tone and pitch more accurately than syllables and words.
It is rarer for me not to have a melody caged in my mind.
Here's a lullaby to close your eyes. (Goodbye)
Feel the eyes of someone looking in on you~
Some days I feel like I am going insane.
There are spots over my eyes.
Imagine the snow from an old television set at about 10% opacity, overlaying the entire world. I see sparks jumping throughout my field of vision, blue and red lightning, and tiny black singularities, ringed in red. The doctors insist that there is nothing inside my eyes to block my field of vision. I suspect it to be some kind of disturbance. Perhaps all that headbanging as a child knocked a few neurons loose.
Today, these dots coalesce to appear as spiders, slowly sinking from the ceiling. It is unsettling in part because it occurs only in my peripheral vision, and when I look, there is nothing there.
There is also music in my mind, a never-ending murmur of sound. I hear songs as they were first sung to me, capturing tone and pitch more accurately than syllables and words.
It is rarer for me not to have a melody caged in my mind.
Here's a lullaby to close your eyes. (Goodbye)
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