2023-12-23-0
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@ -547,6 +547,193 @@ blah blah blah
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i'm at yule and have been up nearly 24 hours. wild it affects me so much. i
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i'm at yule and have been up nearly 24 hours. wild it affects me so much. i
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used to do 48 on 10 off. i think i'm gonna sleep now. good night. i love you.
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used to do 48 on 10 off. i think i'm gonna sleep now. good night. i love you.
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continued.
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no longer 0100.
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T1354.
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$ cat /etc/issue
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We're in this together.
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$ cat /etc/motd
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Get down, make love.
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I don't know.
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I've had too much social interaction.
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You've had this happen before, haven't you?
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Do you think I could have a glass of water?
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Jesus Christ, I didn't realize we had royalty here. No. Get it
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yourself.
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For lack of a sink, for lack of glasses.
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You've had this happen before, haven't you?
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I really need to take a break, I can't breathe.
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You're lazy. You're just gonna ask for another break soon enough
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anyway.
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For lack of shade, for lack of sunglasses.
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You've had this happen before, haven't you?
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Can I get a sandwich or something while we're out here?
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We have food at home. Be patient.
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For potato chips, for fruit snacks.
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How do you ask for what you want without fear of retribution?
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You can't even get water yourself.
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No instruction.
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You're fat and need to lose weight.
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No moderation.
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You need to appreciate what you have.
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No variety.
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I suppose at face value it sounds bitchy. Find water without plumbing, find
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serenity in motion, find nutrition in processed snacks. I could do it now,
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certainly. But I didn't know what a carbohydrate was until this month, maybe
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last. Time flies faster as of late.
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I love ice cream even though I'm vegan. I met it on video call and we started
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talking. I was so flustered at its appearance. It was gorgeous. That's the last
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new people I've met. I can't remember how long it lasted the first time. I've
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never had more than a first time before. I screwed up and I wasn't too proud to
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admit it.
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After the first time around it all slipped through my fingers and I was lost in
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purple haze and red stains. I replaced my shirts with ones easier to wash in
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private and accepted the fate. Then one day I looked around and asked what the
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fuck I was doing.
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Lost and found is as much a cycle as it is a bin. I lost hoodies often as a
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kid, brain fog and scattering and forgotten fabric on a bench. The benches on
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the playground were a brown shade of black with holes in them at offsets to not
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form a grid but a maze of triangles. I used to play connect the dots with them
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and pencils to leave lines of graphite on what was probably some refined sort
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of plastic, make triangles out of the holes, then get back from recess and
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still be thinking about triangles. All the kids thought I was obnoxious, and I
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was. I had a desire for attention not fulfilled at home. Then the distraction
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faded into a fog of isolation and the number of friends dwindled down to some
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remaining on Instagram, a platform I loathed for its hidden algorithms dragging
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many of those I knew into conspiracy theories I had helped create or others I
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created singlehandedly, who were absolutely unwilling to move to a more open or
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at least seemingly better platform. Then I moved anyway to the darker corners
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of the Internet and in among those, unrelated except by topic of interest
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(technology freedoms), I found the friends that remain friends to this day. I'm
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leaving some things out so as to not write a book here.
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At some point I will just disappear. I know this will happen. I'll disappear to
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a new life, new style, new identity, new country, and be gone without a trace.
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I will die in the remote reaches of a far away landscape of a slow, painful,
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lonely death. Nobody will be holding me as the light leaves my eyes, nobody
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will appear to come from the heavens to embrace me and beckon me into my next
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form of being. I will die, probably of some self infliction that I won't be
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able to escape when I realize the gravity of what I have done and find my
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regret. In my last moments I will wish things had been different, somehow, some
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way. I will wish I took the time I have right now, in this very moment in the
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present, to get my shit together. To see a therapist. Quit caffeine. Find a
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better job. Get a studio apartment, make more friends, find roommates, go on
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dates with my girlfriends, smile, laugh, feel comfortable around many others,
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have neighbors, contribute to society both in terms of my employment and my
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software I write not for myself but to improve the world, get older, keep
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chipping into my 401(k), retire, grow old, cherish memories and make many more,
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and die surrounded by those I love in a comfortably decorated room I couldn't
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have occupied without the help of those around me. Beckoned to the beyond by
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some engineered and pleasant psychedelic and Shine On You Crazy Diamond.
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I'm sitting in a fast food joint sipping a coffee and typing this.
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I learned not to ask for help from others or rely on anybody but myself at
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every turn of my life, every leap of faith into which I fell and every shoulder
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on which I leaned that pushed me away. I made missteps, more times than I can
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count, but there were a lot of things that just weren't my fault and landed on
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me anyway. I have not experienced this since leaving the place that made me.
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But I know not to keep gambling after so many consecutive wins. That's why
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every cautious step forward, every nervous but rewarded ask, every detail that
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goes right, is a reminder that things will go wrong. Luck does not last
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forever.
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I will disappear when I have no more for which to be here. No friends,
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abandoned projects, dead end jobs and rent I can't afford. I am certain it will
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happen and my friends are certain it will not. But I was friends with others
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who were certain they would see tomorrow and didn't. That is how I think it
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will end, not with a whimper but with a bang and more as the luck runs out and
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cars strike, bullets pierce, fire roars or whatever other sequence of accidents
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seizes the debt I own to balance, the odds swinging back around in luck.
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I am insufferable and therapy would fix this but I think I would get committed
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if I went. It's irrational but I don't know if Kamikun would ever let me go.
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I don't think there's anything out there for me. That's the biggest reason I
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would write my EOF byte. But why not wait and see what the future holds?
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I drank my last Monster. For real. There will be more caffeine, always. There
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might be more romance with energy drinks. But I'm done Monster now, forever.
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It's up to you to hold me accountable. Who am I kidding? Who reads this? Please
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don't.
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I feel like a slut when I give people my website URL.
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I apologized. I wanted to visit its state, see it in person, so I could
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apologize in person too. It could do whatever it wanted, I didn't expect to
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stay with it or anything. Then instead of meeting in meatspace to reconnect it
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happened on-line. And we got talking again.
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I listen to Slipknot because it was wearing a Slipknot t-shirt. That's the only
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reason. I don't think I would have gotten into Slipknot if it wasn't for that.
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I fucking love Slipknot, genuinely, and their music got me through some hard
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times, hard decisions, absolute actions.
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I like it/its pronouns for me. I'm different from a she/her. She/her is fine. I
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won't take offense, certainly less offense than being gendered male. But I like
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it/its pronouns for myself.
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I genuinely love my girlfriends with all my heart and it's hard to imagine
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anything short of it no longer being my girlfriends changing that. I loved it
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when we stopped talking. I do regret that, I think. I don't like living with
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regrets. I wasn't able to reconcile the hurt I had caused and my not being true
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to myself. I thought I would hurt it more if we kept talking. I don't think I
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would have.
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I'm polyamorous and with my other girlfriend we had a much shorter go of things
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and I broke up because our relationship was overwhelming. I don't regret
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breaking up with her because I still believe I would have hurt her more had I
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stayed with her.
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Leaving my previous state is the best decision I ever made. Now that I am
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constantly made aware, justly, of my bad habits and awful state of living, I
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can start to fix it. There are a million things of which I wasn't even aware,
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or of which I was aware but not of how to fix them, or simply those that I
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didn't care to remedy. I put on black nail polish to stop biting my nails and
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it's working. They're longer than they have been in probably a decade. I'm
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sleeping well, still plagued with nightmares when I dream but I think they
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might pass. I am the sun poking through the clouds before I disappear back into
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pessimism and self loathing and I don't know how to fix that. I'll get there
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someday.
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I criticize means of repair to flesh out technique rather than to be able to
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ignore them. As a compulsion it is to be able to ignore them. But they keep
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gnawing at my head past the initial repulsion. I don't criticize plans with
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which I align but nor do I criticize plans that seem to me to be obviously
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infeasible.
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I still can't interact with new people, though, except when forced to do so by
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situation or as a means to an end, and when I do I am extremely uncomfortable.
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I don't know if I can fix that, I don't know if I want to fix that. Baby steps.
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I hope my existing friends live forever. If our friendship doesn't, fine. They
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deserve happiness and if that's the means to get there I hope I am tossed to
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the side without grief. They deserve happiness and a long duration to have it.
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__________
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/ _______ /|
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/ /|_____/ / |
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/ //|| / //||
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/ //||| _/ //|||
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/_________ //_|||
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| ||//___| ||//
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| |/_____| | /
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|__________|/ I want to improve.
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/blah/2023-12-21.html
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/blah/2023-12-21.html
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