diff --git a/homepage b/homepage index 082f0ef..10ae3f1 100755 --- a/homepage +++ b/homepage @@ -525,6 +525,127 @@ pre { /* DRY who? */ } +/blah/2024-03-21.html + +I want to explain what I mean by what I say when I say how I used to live in a +place that was unliveable. It felt fucking fast and it was always night. I +borrowed (took) a cigarette from my manager and kicked off on my Razor A5 from +my workplace, a Burger King on a slope steep enough to get me to a pretty good +speed by the time I made it to the light, always red. I didn't look both ways +because I didn't care - and when I mean I didn't care I mean once I made it +past the stretch after Aaron's I was rolling down Lisbon St. fast enough for +the wind to sting my eyes, catching them behind my glasses, fast enough to go +on the road where I would usually be going faster than the cars, without a +helmet or padding besides a thick jacket and thick pants. My headphones would +be loud as hell and usually playing something hard and metal like Grazhdanskaya +Oborona or early Bring Me the Horizon. The moon in the sky - and if it was full +shit would usually hit the fan - and by hit the fan I mean in the light the +junkies would be shooting up and the crackheads would be smoking and by the +time you met them you wouldn't see the pipe but the pulled back skin on their +faces, tight against their bone, grimacing in an uncanny expression of +desensitization, looking for their next score - and by score I mean money or +someone with it - me - which would be trouble if my scooter was around 7-Eleven +where I found the junkies usually going fast enough that nobody bothered. But +one time I was on my way back when someone stopped me asking where they could +go to stay - they looked friendly so I stopped - and I replied I was just +squatting somewhere - and as I left they spoke to someone in a van who started +tailing me and I had to run off the tail. This was in July? In September I +didn't even have that squat but instead Toni. I went from work to Hell to sleep +to work. I would wake with dew on my cheek - not dew - condensation - from my +breath, because the battery was too far gone to wake enough to roll down the +windows, and I didn't have the key anyway - I got in through a hole in the +back. + +When I say fast I mean I was running all the time and I wasn't allowed where I +was sleeping except sorta de facto. The world blurred around me. My co-workers +respected me for being probably the fastest one in the kitchen and the +employees of the place where I was sleeping loved me for always being happy to +help someone out. At night on my way to the car I would pass by this building +with full length windows on the ground floor and I would look into the mirror +at what I had become. I was wearing a black Rothco M-65, Doc Martens, work +pants (I can't remember how to spell Carhart (sic?)), a black hat, black +gloves, a black UV-5R to read counties - I was dressed like a vigilante, +sleeping like a cowboy, working like a mule. I was lying to those who could +house me, saying I was housed, because I knew my options were fucked. I didn't +believe I would survive - I wrote my life off and lived like it didn't matter +if I died - lived like I couldn't die - lived like I wanted to die - it wasn't +really living, was it? - or was it living more than I had ever before? - I was +sloppy. Remember Case in the first couple chapters of Neuromancer? It was a +constant, chronic state of mania trying to separate enough from the city that I +could leave without spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. But +I still do. When I say fast I mean I had a clock that was ticking - two. I had +the clock until my Greyhound arrived at Bates College and I had the clock until +it was too cold to sleep in the car even in my sleeping bag and I didn't wake +up. And I didn't think leaving would really help - I didn't think leaving would +get me to a place where I could start living. [...] told me they'd "put me up" +which to me meant little because I had no clue how to get an apartment or +anything. I planned to sleep in a hostel or outside or die here. I just didn't +wanna die in Bumfuck Nowhere Maine. + +I think my last couple relationships were, in hindsight, fucking awful, in +general and for me specifically. I feel like I experienced at once both sides +of a bad time. I refrain from discussing relationship stuff on here because +people read this who actually know me and of whom I write but it's jarring to +me just how awful all of my romantic relationships have been - all of them. +Often the biggest issue is how paralyzed I am - I sacrifice my own desires for +trying to maintain comfort. I don't take risks in relationships. I would +probably be fine at maintaining a Good Thing but getting to a Good Thing is +impossible because I don't communicate what I want for fear of being judged for +it. This is a problem not just in my romantic relationships but generally in my +life. Related is the fact that I don't communicate my discomfort. + +2024-03-19 + +: replies to my post on watchpeopledie.tv + +ChazzMichaelMichaels: you're a fucking weird guy, you know that. + like what the fuck is wrong with you? + +Certifiedsnowflake: okay dude, what the actual flip + +cutethighscars: i have a foot fetish and im a strong enough woman to + admit it. that being said; The fuck kind of crossbreeding + of kinks is this? + +natsuki_: this is for your fetish, isn't it ? + +VermiciousKnid: You're sick + +Snappy: :#marseyfinger: + + +/blah/2024-03-18.html + +I thought I had more here but I guess the file must have disappeared. + +BLAME! is really cool. + +Moved my Sourcehut projects to git.tebibyte.media. + + +/blah/2024-03-14.html + +Happy pi day. + +Building rust-analyzer from source: + +# cd /usr/local/src +# git clone https://github.com/rust-lang/rust-analyzer +# cd rust-analyzer +# cargo build --release + +Oh it built just like that. Swag. + +Sonja Lang is now listening to Frouzziland by Shotu. + +My 3DS fucking rocks. + +Sorry I can't keep ya updated more I am mostly just working and sleeping and +having LOADS OF SEX all the FUCKING TIME. Seriously like so much sex. You ever +heard the Weezer song I'm Tired of Having Sex? It's like that. I have totally +had sex in the last four months. Tons of it. + + /blah/2024-02-29.html I have a graphical environment on this netbook and honestly, what more do I