323: hands up and give me everything you have
[ed note: tried to leave a comment but I'm Not Human Enough after I sent you FEW unreturned e-mails. SO! Fine! I wanted a blog anyway. I will say so immediately, in fact]
I want a blog where I refer to my (presumably hypothetical) readership!
I want the dead librarian's books
and name
to know and compare to names I already know and librarians I remember.
I have been gifted a Switch so I will not need yours or Ezra's, but I simply MUST demand your old memory card-- except only games I would like as much as YOU like games and I don't even know if those exist
because, J.L.! La, do they bleep and bloop at me with their time limits that only rarely motivate rather than agitate me, and the colors are (only slightly less) rarely the precise hex code of the ones I feel like looking at @any.one.time.
AND! if you are in a ttrpg group I want that too. And I want a husband that loves me, but not right now and not yours, probably, and maybe not even a husband, but a dog.
YES, I want your cats, and I hope it is not a secret you didn't mean to feed your blog, how we only share maybe 7 of the nine senses together, what with adding a dog who lacks even the barest Sense of Dignity to really round out how the smelling really has always been the only thing most terrestrial intelligences need to take seriously, know about each other and us.
OH! I want your memories, some of them, all celluloid and crackling with those little cigarette burns when the reel needs to be changed.
AND! I want some (obviously SOME) of your childhood, except NOW and to give it to myself.
AND! I want your knowledge of men, dangerous and dodgy, and of course human human animal intelligence. Not base-model human, clearly, but still,
I've read and heard and reinvented a lot of words by those guys and god damn if I don't love a whole-ass novel written just for... well, maybe not precisely me, as they never seem to be handing those out Willy-milky**, but maybe someone that sits very near me on the bus. Maybe you, who gives me security permissions to read over his shoulder on purpose even.
I have all sorts of lovely projects cooking up with you in mind and isn't it terribly delightful to be mined so thoroughly for being a curator of idea-experiences? (But really, is it terribly delightful? all I have ever been even 20% good at predicting is the reaction of myself) and Don't me/you like to be pumped for information like you're/we’re the only ones who have ever been right the exact way you and I are?
AND! aren't we just?
Exactly right. The world is exactly right and I was so so so so silly to think that I would, could even, die without my full consent. Not me, ravenous me! All corvid on top of a snowy car, with the world brimming with shiny sharp things I'll look at but not all at once and not right now.
Right now it's morning and I'm calling beauty by name, and she just comes a runnin, lemme tell ya!
Lemme tell ya lemme tell ya tell me something lemme have a tell ya something sometime. I want it all-- kinda like Kirby, honestly. Except I become EVERYTHING I consume, not just you and
... SELF-DAMNED JESUS CHRIST, that's already an idea called "you are what you eat"
Ah, Always one eye on a flower one foot off a cliff, me. They say you gotta eat the strawberries. You gotta. You just GOTTA.
L is for the way you Joseph me
O is outrageously extraordinary,
Val is also related to
Extra-ordinarily,
Sincerely,
PpVvBbNi
FOOTNOTES:
spam!? honestly!
NO, fucking foolphone, Willy-milky doesn't mean ANY SINGLE THING even a little related to what I wanted to say.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI never do this. Haven't placed a comment onto the internet since the year 2004, when I swore off the Fire Emblem forums after they underwent some kind of schism. I was asked to be a mod on the second forum, and someone got mad at me for still posting on the original forum, and then I said to myself "it is long overdue that you start reading the internet only, and never talk to anyone again". Anyway I'm devaluing your minty-fresh new blog with every asinine word that I type (how I'm feeling these days, I dunno. To think that I am capable of making internet worse with the words that I type is hubris like a skyscraper, so here we are).
ReplyDelete1. you should be able to comment now.
2. I'm not in any groups of any kind, except the queers in my lifetime developmental psychology class at the community college and we're pretty bad at being a group outside of sitting in the same row in class
3. I bet we could find you some games, games whose mechanisms could gently part the wrinkles in your mind with their little crab claws and thrust their ovipositors deep into your cortex
4. security permissions granted, we'll bang out the details; and of course your novel is for me even if it's not
5. it is terribly delightlful to be mined and the prospect of collaboration is terribly exciting
6. this comment really is too long and too familiar; how will anyone feel good about making a second post? Again, devaluation. Fie! Fie on my conspicuous verbosity.
p.s. I had to remove my comment because I misspelled a word. It will be doubly sad if I have mispelled another, but this time, if I do, I will leave it up to punish myself, and learn nothing.
>2004<
Delete"What a never to be from!," she exclaimed as a nasty, auguste clown pedals past in the background, leering honestly as he does.
In her memory of the moment, he is coughing out the words "Hey, kids! wanna smoke cigarettes forever?"
>>"[']I was asked to be a mod on the second forum, and someone got mad at me for still posting on the original forum, and then I said to myself [']it is long overdue that you start reading the internet only, and never talk to anyone again[.']"
<<
I believe I told you one time it was necessary to shed internet identities like skins to outgrow, and damn the forums you leave behind! I came to wonder how this was going for you during your very long walk elsewhere, and whether I might have said something savvier, more self-serving than a potent truth.^1
>>>Anyway I'm devaluing your minty-fresh new blog
<<<
Ha! You could no sooner devalue my sisterdaughter/persona/dual-boot phone-mate's MySpace page (RIP, I hope). I am immune to most intellectual humiliation, believing as I do in my idiotic perfection, and loving as I do the fool in me. What folly, to be a bully as I have been about this, trying to teach others to hump humiliation on their backs until their minds snap, just because the snapping has taken so long for me. But what a weight to bear proudly. Or maybe that was my sister again, being drops in the same ocean as we are.
>>>> games whose mechanisms could gently part the wrinkles in your mind with their little crab claews [sic]
<<<<
Oh, wow, it's been too long since someone accused my mind of having wrinkles.
>>>>> this comment really is too long and too familiar; how will anyone feel good about making a second post? <<<<<
audacity has always been the mitocondria of my cell.^2
>>>>>>
Fie! Fie!
<<<<<<
Hie! Hie(!) thee to the conspicuous verbosity!
>>>>>>>
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<<<<<<<
I could, you know, if verbosity did not delight me. But I think you will quake when you see the sheer volume of my correspondence and how I coax even the most reticent to words. Even with judicious (hah!) force if I must.
FOOTNOTES:
1. "Hoist with his own petard" is a phrase from a speech in William Shakespeare's play Hamlet that has become proverbial. The phrase's meaning is that a bomb-maker is blown ("hoisted") off the ground by his own bomb ("petard"), and indicates an ironic reversal, or poetic justice.[1]
2. Yes, fine for now. But no invader, no guest. maybe the me another's home was built around.