"Saved by a Waif" — Alvvays

twinge of desire to open the phone, forage twitter (forbidden mechanically for most of most days), forage the feeds, open myself to nutrients and flavors. I think about opening my phone because maybe I’ll see something interesting. but instead, despite I’m sure there being some interesting things blooming, the forests themselves are dead and smoking, so that instead of any pleasant shade as respite from the heat of my own thoughts, the sun hisses down and the soft bottoms of my shoes melt to the asphalt. There’s no pleasure in it. We can be hungry and learn to eat trash. We can crave the sweet juice of the firefly and instead try to sip from the sawblade’s sparks. I’m moved by impulses I never wanted. Parasites inside steer me toward their food. I wanted to live deeply, obnoxiously in the pleasures of complex thought. To a fault. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to have my own thoughts. Or enjoy them, anyway.” Instead all the wrong things are complicated. I have a useful mind. Sharp. Curse the world that turns our blades against us. Desperate to sell us out. I am not my parasites. I am not the vast emptiness. “The obligation of memory and a large number of grave questions.” But whose do I have to ask?

The answer is: A lot of them!!!

i dunno, but i just realized that angry birds’ popularity coincides with the post-9/11 world. birds flying into buildings to take revenge on pigs. 8 years after 2001. godzilla appeared 9 years after the bombs. 2 very different pop culture responses to violence incited by the united states

Lo Talker — No Champagne

"An idyllic setting on an open plain, where the sun shines down on your lover's face. The universe will hiss when you lean in for the kiss, and the house lights... blow out."

Paerish — "Then People Forget"

I want to play guitar like this

shout out to having the fabric of your reality torn asunder repeatedly and still showing up for work

hey if anybody knows of a grant that would let me just sit in a rocking chair at an old-times sanatorium for like three to six months, lmk

alternatively, if you know somebody who needs a junior-to-mid game programmer or scripter (I wrote a lot of a game that’s coming out on the Playdate this year), hmu

I want steady work that I can learn from along the way. I’m pretty burnt out on crash course 2-to-6-week contract jobs that require learning and creating something from scratch and then maybe never using that knowledge again :[

despite whatever diagnoses, explanations, or traumatic dislocations, despite pushing on regardless, endurance tests, or temporary triumphs

[omit 1000 words of similar because so far clarifying hasn’t really seemed to help]

I haven’t been at peace with myself for going on two decades. I haven’t been able to enjoy being this for very long at all. I haven’t found a place for me, to feel valued and contributing, to feel fulfilled and recognized.

I really want it! I want to be myself, use what’s best in me, and have enough money to stop worrying. I haven’t stopped worrying about money at any point in my adult life. Lots of people don’t. But I really want to. I made about $14,000 last year, despite working harder than ever. Used a lot to keep paying off debt. I survived the pandemic, so far. I have decent part time work right now, but somehow it’s not enough. Bills and debt keep asking for more! I want to keep my own place to live. I want to finally become myself. And I want to get paid just enough money doing something I’m good at to just relax for a little bit.

But I can’t. I have to keep doing more. Keep taking on work. Keep studying new skills for no money. It’s never been enough, no matter how many things I learn to do. Why? Should have moved to a big city, but I could never afford it. Should have applied to more jobs? Learned different things? Just keep going, almost there, nearly 35 years old and every year I’ve been told I’m almost there, I’m so close, one of these things is going to pay off. For some people, it happens! People who know less than I do about several of my domains make an exorbitant amount of money. Why not me?

I’m really tired right now, but I don’t get to stop. Just gotta keep going. And I will. But I am not happy about it.

SORRY FOR COMPLAINGIN

Edie Campbell, Alec: The Years Have Pants: