2023-12-23-0

continued.

no longer 0100.

T1354.

$ cat /etc/issue

We're in this together.

$ cat /etc/motd

Get down, make love.

I don't know.

I've had too much social interaction.

You've had this happen before, haven't you?

Do you think I could have a glass of water?

Jesus Christ, I didn't realize we had royalty here. No. Get it

yourself.

For lack of a sink, for lack of glasses.

You've had this happen before, haven't you?

I really need to take a break, I can't breathe.

You're lazy. You're just gonna ask for another break soon enough

anyway.

For lack of shade, for lack of sunglasses.

You've had this happen before, haven't you?

Can I get a sandwich or something while we're out here?

We have food at home. Be patient.

For potato chips, for fruit snacks.

How do you ask for what you want without fear of retribution?

You can't even get water yourself.

No instruction.

You're fat and need to lose weight.

No moderation.

You need to appreciate what you have.

No variety.

I suppose at face value it sounds bitchy. Find water without plumbing, find

serenity in motion, find nutrition in processed snacks. I could do it now,

certainly. But I didn't know what a carbohydrate was until this month, maybe

last. Time flies faster as of late.

I love ice cream even though I'm vegan. I met it on video call and we started

talking. I was so flustered at its appearance. It was gorgeous. That's the last

new people I've met. I can't remember how long it lasted the first time. I've

never had more than a first time before. I screwed up and I wasn't too proud to

admit it.

After the first time around it all slipped through my fingers and I was lost in

purple haze and red stains. I replaced my shirts with ones easier to wash in

private and accepted the fate. Then one day I looked around and asked what the

fuck I was doing.

Lost and found is as much a cycle as it is a bin. I lost hoodies often as a

kid, brain fog and scattering and forgotten fabric on a bench. The benches on

the playground were a brown shade of black with holes in them at offsets to not

form a grid but a maze of triangles. I used to play connect the dots with them

and pencils to leave lines of graphite on what was probably some refined sort

of plastic, make triangles out of the holes, then get back from recess and

still be thinking about triangles. All the kids thought I was obnoxious, and I

was. I had a desire for attention not fulfilled at home. Then the distraction

faded into a fog of isolation and the number of friends dwindled down to some

remaining on Instagram, a platform I loathed for its hidden algorithms dragging

many of those I knew into conspiracy theories I had helped create or others I

created singlehandedly, who were absolutely unwilling to move to a more open or

at least seemingly better platform. Then I moved anyway to the darker corners

of the Internet and in among those, unrelated except by topic of interest

(technology freedoms), I found the friends that remain friends to this day. I'm

leaving some things out so as to not write a book here.

At some point I will just disappear. I know this will happen. I'll disappear to

a new life, new style, new identity, new country, and be gone without a trace.

I will die in the remote reaches of a far away landscape of a slow, painful,

lonely death. Nobody will be holding me as the light leaves my eyes, nobody

will appear to come from the heavens to embrace me and beckon me into my next

form of being. I will die, probably of some self infliction that I won't be

able to escape when I realize the gravity of what I have done and find my

regret. In my last moments I will wish things had been different, somehow, some

way. I will wish I took the time I have right now, in this very moment in the

present, to get my shit together. To see a therapist. Quit caffeine. Find a

better job. Get a studio apartment, make more friends, find roommates, go on

dates with my girlfriends, smile, laugh, feel comfortable around many others,

have neighbors, contribute to society both in terms of my employment and my

software I write not for myself but to improve the world, get older, keep

chipping into my 401(k), retire, grow old, cherish memories and make many more,

and die surrounded by those I love in a comfortably decorated room I couldn't

have occupied without the help of those around me. Beckoned to the beyond by

some engineered and pleasant psychedelic and Shine On You Crazy Diamond.

I'm sitting in a fast food joint sipping a coffee and typing this.

I learned not to ask for help from others or rely on anybody but myself at

every turn of my life, every leap of faith into which I fell and every shoulder

on which I leaned that pushed me away. I made missteps, more times than I can

count, but there were a lot of things that just weren't my fault and landed on

me anyway. I have not experienced this since leaving the place that made me.

But I know not to keep gambling after so many consecutive wins. That's why

every cautious step forward, every nervous but rewarded ask, every detail that

goes right, is a reminder that things will go wrong. Luck does not last

forever.

I will disappear when I have no more for which to be here. No friends,

abandoned projects, dead end jobs and rent I can't afford. I am certain it will

happen and my friends are certain it will not. But I was friends with others

who were certain they would see tomorrow and didn't. That is how I think it

will end, not with a whimper but with a bang and more as the luck runs out and

cars strike, bullets pierce, fire roars or whatever other sequence of accidents

seizes the debt I own to balance, the odds swinging back around in luck.

I am insufferable and therapy would fix this but I think I would get committed

if I went. It's irrational but I don't know if Kamikun would ever let me go.

I don't think there's anything out there for me. That's the biggest reason I

would write my EOF byte. But why not wait and see what the future holds?

I drank my last Monster. For real. There will be more caffeine, always. There

might be more romance with energy drinks. But I'm done Monster now, forever.

It's up to you to hold me accountable. Who am I kidding? Who reads this? Please

don't.

I feel like a slut when I give people my website URL.

I apologized. I wanted to visit its state, see it in person, so I could

apologize in person too. It could do whatever it wanted, I didn't expect to

stay with it or anything. Then instead of meeting in meatspace to reconnect it

happened on-line. And we got talking again.

I listen to Slipknot because it was wearing a Slipknot t-shirt. That's the only

reason. I don't think I would have gotten into Slipknot if it wasn't for that.

I fucking love Slipknot, genuinely, and their music got me through some hard

times, hard decisions, absolute actions.

I like it/its pronouns for me. I'm different from a she/her. She/her is fine. I

won't take offense, certainly less offense than being gendered male. But I like

it/its pronouns for myself.

I genuinely love my girlfriends with all my heart and it's hard to imagine

anything short of it no longer being my girlfriends changing that. I loved it

when we stopped talking. I do regret that, I think. I don't like living with

regrets. I wasn't able to reconcile the hurt I had caused and my not being true

to myself. I thought I would hurt it more if we kept talking. I don't think I

would have.

I'm polyamorous and with my other girlfriend we had a much shorter go of things

and I broke up because our relationship was overwhelming. I don't regret

breaking up with her because I still believe I would have hurt her more had I

stayed with her.

Leaving my previous state is the best decision I ever made. Now that I am

constantly made aware, justly, of my bad habits and awful state of living, I

can start to fix it. There are a million things of which I wasn't even aware,

or of which I was aware but not of how to fix them, or simply those that I

didn't care to remedy. I put on black nail polish to stop biting my nails and

it's working. They're longer than they have been in probably a decade. I'm

sleeping well, still plagued with nightmares when I dream but I think they

might pass. I am the sun poking through the clouds before I disappear back into

pessimism and self loathing and I don't know how to fix that. I'll get there

someday.

I criticize means of repair to flesh out technique rather than to be able to

ignore them. As a compulsion it is to be able to ignore them. But they keep

gnawing at my head past the initial repulsion. I don't criticize plans with

which I align but nor do I criticize plans that seem to me to be obviously

infeasible.

I still can't interact with new people, though, except when forced to do so by

situation or as a means to an end, and when I do I am extremely uncomfortable.

I don't know if I can fix that, I don't know if I want to fix that. Baby steps.

I hope my existing friends live forever. If our friendship doesn't, fine. They

deserve happiness and if that's the means to get there I hope I am tossed to

the side without grief. They deserve happiness and a long duration to have it.

__________

/ _______ /|

/ /|_____/ / |

/ //|| / //||

/ //||| _/ //|||

/_________ //_|||

| ______ ||_///

| ||/// | ||///

| ||//___| ||//

| |/_____| | /

|__________|/ I want to improve.

 @ -547,6 +547,193 @@ blah blah blah
 i'm at yule and have been up nearly 24 hours. wild it affects me so much. i
 used to do 48 on 10 off. i think i'm gonna sleep now. good night. i love you.
 continued.
 no longer 0100.
 T1354.
 $ cat /etc/issue
 	We're in this together.
 $ cat /etc/motd
 	Get down, make love.
 I don't know.
 I've had too much social interaction.
 You've had this happen before, haven't you?
 	Do you think I could have a glass of water?
 	Jesus Christ, I didn't realize we had royalty here. No. Get it
 		yourself.
 For lack of a sink, for lack of glasses.
 You've had this happen before, haven't you?
 	I really need to take a break, I can't breathe.
 	You're lazy. You're just gonna ask for another break soon enough
 		anyway.
 For lack of shade, for lack of sunglasses.
 You've had this happen before, haven't you?
 	Can I get a sandwich or something while we're out here?
 	We have food at home. Be patient.
 For potato chips, for fruit snacks.
 How do you ask for what you want without fear of retribution?
 	You can't even get water yourself.
 		No instruction.
 	You're fat and need to lose weight.
 		No moderation.
 	You need to appreciate what you have.
 		No variety.
 I suppose at face value it sounds bitchy. Find water without plumbing, find
 serenity in motion, find nutrition in processed snacks. I could do it now,
 certainly. But I didn't know what a carbohydrate was until this month, maybe
 last. Time flies faster as of late.
 I love ice cream even though I'm vegan. I met it on video call and we started
 talking. I was so flustered at its appearance. It was gorgeous. That's the last
 new people I've met. I can't remember how long it lasted the first time. I've
 never had more than a first time before. I screwed up and I wasn't too proud to
 admit it.
 After the first time around it all slipped through my fingers and I was lost in
 purple haze and red stains. I replaced my shirts with ones easier to wash in
 private and accepted the fate. Then one day I looked around and asked what the
 fuck I was doing.
 Lost and found is as much a cycle as it is a bin. I lost hoodies often as a
 kid, brain fog and scattering and forgotten fabric on a bench. The benches on
 the playground were a brown shade of black with holes in them at offsets to not
 form a grid but a maze of triangles. I used to play connect the dots with them
 and pencils to leave lines of graphite on what was probably some refined sort
 of plastic, make triangles out of the holes, then get back from recess and
 still be thinking about triangles. All the kids thought I was obnoxious, and I
 was. I had a desire for attention not fulfilled at home. Then the distraction
 faded into a fog of isolation and the number of friends dwindled down to some
 remaining on Instagram, a platform I loathed for its hidden algorithms dragging
 many of those I knew into conspiracy theories I had helped create or others I
 created singlehandedly, who were absolutely unwilling to move to a more open or
 at least seemingly better platform. Then I moved anyway to the darker corners
 of the Internet and in among those, unrelated except by topic of interest
 (technology freedoms), I found the friends that remain friends to this day. I'm
 leaving some things out so as to not write a book here.
 At some point I will just disappear. I know this will happen. I'll disappear to
 a new life, new style, new identity, new country, and be gone without a trace.
 I will die in the remote reaches of a far away landscape of a slow, painful,
 lonely death. Nobody will be holding me as the light leaves my eyes, nobody
 will appear to come from the heavens to embrace me and beckon me into my next
 form of being. I will die, probably of some self infliction that I won't be
 able to escape when I realize the gravity of what I have done and find my
 regret. In my last moments I will wish things had been different, somehow, some
 way. I will wish I took the time I have right now, in this very moment in the
 present, to get my shit together. To see a therapist. Quit caffeine. Find a
 better job. Get a studio apartment, make more friends, find roommates, go on
 dates with my girlfriends, smile, laugh, feel comfortable around many others,
 have neighbors, contribute to society both in terms of my employment and my
 software I write not for myself but to improve the world, get older, keep
 chipping into my 401(k), retire, grow old, cherish memories and make many more,
 and die surrounded by those I love in a comfortably decorated room I couldn't
 have occupied without the help of those around me. Beckoned to the beyond by
 some engineered and pleasant psychedelic and Shine On You Crazy Diamond.
 I'm sitting in a fast food joint sipping a coffee and typing this.
 I learned not to ask for help from others or rely on anybody but myself at
 every turn of my life, every leap of faith into which I fell and every shoulder
 on which I leaned that pushed me away. I made missteps, more times than I can
 count, but there were a lot of things that just weren't my fault and landed on
 me anyway. I have not experienced this since leaving the place that made me.
 But I know not to keep gambling after so many consecutive wins. That's why
 every cautious step forward, every nervous but rewarded ask, every detail that
 goes right, is a reminder that things will go wrong. Luck does not last
 forever.
 I will disappear when I have no more for which to be here. No friends,
 abandoned projects, dead end jobs and rent I can't afford. I am certain it will
 happen and my friends are certain it will not. But I was friends with others
 who were certain they would see tomorrow and didn't. That is how I think it
 will end, not with a whimper but with a bang and more as the luck runs out and
 cars strike, bullets pierce, fire roars or whatever other sequence of accidents
 seizes the debt I own to balance, the odds swinging back around in luck.
 I am insufferable and therapy would fix this but I think I would get committed
 if I went. It's irrational but I don't know if Kamikun would ever let me go.
 I don't think there's anything out there for me. That's the biggest reason I
 would write my EOF byte. But why not wait and see what the future holds?
 I drank my last Monster. For real. There will be more caffeine, always. There
 might be more romance with energy drinks. But I'm done Monster now, forever.
 It's up to you to hold me accountable. Who am I kidding? Who reads this? Please
 don't.
 I feel like a slut when I give people my website URL.
 I apologized. I wanted to visit its state, see it in person, so I could
 apologize in person too. It could do whatever it wanted, I didn't expect to
 stay with it or anything. Then instead of meeting in meatspace to reconnect it
 happened on-line. And we got talking again.
 I listen to Slipknot because it was wearing a Slipknot t-shirt. That's the only
 reason. I don't think I would have gotten into Slipknot if it wasn't for that.
 I fucking love Slipknot, genuinely, and their music got me through some hard
 times, hard decisions, absolute actions.
 I like it/its pronouns for me. I'm different from a she/her. She/her is fine. I
 won't take offense, certainly less offense than being gendered male. But I like
 it/its pronouns for myself.
 I genuinely love my girlfriends with all my heart and it's hard to imagine
 anything short of it no longer being my girlfriends changing that. I loved it
 when we stopped talking. I do regret that, I think. I don't like living with
 regrets. I wasn't able to reconcile the hurt I had caused and my not being true
 to myself. I thought I would hurt it more if we kept talking. I don't think I
 would have.
 I'm polyamorous and with my other girlfriend we had a much shorter go of things
 and I broke up because our relationship was overwhelming. I don't regret
 breaking up with her because I still believe I would have hurt her more had I
 stayed with her.
 Leaving my previous state is the best decision I ever made. Now that I am
 constantly made aware, justly, of my bad habits and awful state of living, I
 can start to fix it. There are a million things of which I wasn't even aware,
 or of which I was aware but not of how to fix them, or simply those that I
 didn't care to remedy. I put on black nail polish to stop biting my nails and
 it's working. They're longer than they have been in probably a decade. I'm
 sleeping well, still plagued with nightmares when I dream but I think they
 might pass. I am the sun poking through the clouds before I disappear back into
 pessimism and self loathing and I don't know how to fix that. I'll get there
 someday.
 I criticize means of repair to flesh out technique rather than to be able to
 ignore them. As a compulsion it is to be able to ignore them. But they keep
 gnawing at my head past the initial repulsion. I don't criticize plans with
 which I align but nor do I criticize plans that seem to me to be obviously
 infeasible.
 I still can't interact with new people, though, except when forced to do so by
 situation or as a means to an end, and when I do I am extremely uncomfortable.
 I don't know if I can fix that, I don't know if I want to fix that. Baby steps.
 I hope my existing friends live forever. If our friendship doesn't, fine. They
 deserve happiness and if that's the means to get there I hope I am tossed to
 the side without grief. They deserve happiness and a long duration to have it.
       __________
      / _______  /|
     / /|_____/ / |
    / //||   / //||
   / //||| _/ //|||
  /_________ //_|||
 |  ______  ||_///
 | ||///  | ||///
 | ||//___| ||//
 | |/_____| | /
 |__________|/      I want to improve.
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