“Every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”
“Every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”
A guitar strummed, a song sung from memory once heard; felt needed then, felt needed now. I’m glad I paid attention in Tetsuya Mizuguchi’s Space Channel 5, thanks Ulala. xoxo
June 24, 2025 at 4:52 AM
A guitar strummed, a song sung from memory once heard; felt needed then, felt needed now. I’m glad I paid attention in Tetsuya Mizuguchi’s Space Channel 5, thanks Ulala. xoxo
There’s something (dare I say) magical about that first read. His novels are layered enough that even the 20th read through will have surprises but oh, that first one 🫠🫠
June 24, 2025 at 12:10 AM
There’s something (dare I say) magical about that first read. His novels are layered enough that even the 20th read through will have surprises but oh, that first one 🫠🫠
Go as far as you can go, get along, try again. Dust yourself off, baby, like Megumi and these kids and Lina told you to, as I’ve been commanded to do: never submit.
Go as far as you can go, get along, try again. Dust yourself off, baby, like Megumi and these kids and Lina told you to, as I’ve been commanded to do: never submit.
The Prince thinks himself an ubermensch, lo, for his prowess with that which is base, banal, but somehow not quite as benign; surely all men who clamber toward the throne of filth think themselves princes; sacrificing his own sibling to their swords, their torches & pitchforks. Witch, witch, witch.
June 23, 2025 at 2:12 PM
The Prince thinks himself an ubermensch, lo, for his prowess with that which is base, banal, but somehow not quite as benign; surely all men who clamber toward the throne of filth think themselves princes; sacrificing his own sibling to their swords, their torches & pitchforks. Witch, witch, witch.
Tired of hearing the Middle East being called a region of ‘instability and chaos’ like we chose this. Maybe look at who made it unstable, invaded, and divided it first.
June 22, 2025 at 4:42 AM
Tired of hearing the Middle East being called a region of ‘instability and chaos’ like we chose this. Maybe look at who made it unstable, invaded, and divided it first.
This is not about the merits of Iran’s nuclear program. No president has the authority to bomb another country that does not pose an imminent threat to the US without the approval of Congress. This is an unambiguous impeachable offense.
June 22, 2025 at 12:26 AM
This is not about the merits of Iran’s nuclear program. No president has the authority to bomb another country that does not pose an imminent threat to the US without the approval of Congress. This is an unambiguous impeachable offense.
Speaking with trees and plants of all kind, in kind, with kind; I see now my own folly differently based on how the seeds fall yes but also how the soil is tended. Mind the gap. Somebody’s gotta do something with all these teeth being stolen by the marauders of the Tooth Fairy’s Castle.
June 21, 2025 at 12:29 PM
Speaking with trees and plants of all kind, in kind, with kind; I see now my own folly differently based on how the seeds fall yes but also how the soil is tended. Mind the gap. Somebody’s gotta do something with all these teeth being stolen by the marauders of the Tooth Fairy’s Castle.
The circles in the rows of corn are indicative of in-articulation, that is, in the crop. A crock, if you will, of shit, as a throne of filth; where the State ceaseth once was under the garment of my wedding night, save for the small entrance to my garden. Get in the absolute unit, Shinji.
June 21, 2025 at 11:50 AM
The circles in the rows of corn are indicative of in-articulation, that is, in the crop. A crock, if you will, of shit, as a throne of filth; where the State ceaseth once was under the garment of my wedding night, save for the small entrance to my garden. Get in the absolute unit, Shinji.
It is quite remarkable how so many men understand perfectly well what personal space means when they’re queuing with other men but somehow magically forget when they’re queuing with women. Yes I am on public transport again.
June 21, 2025 at 7:49 AM
It is quite remarkable how so many men understand perfectly well what personal space means when they’re queuing with other men but somehow magically forget when they’re queuing with women. Yes I am on public transport again.
Secured the bag for tickets on Mariah Carey’s tribute to JRPG protagonists like Terra and Celes with “Hero” re-cover edition in one of those whackadoo concerts for vidja game muzak. Let’s be so fr rn tho if it weren’t for video game OSTs, GIRL! How else am I to twerk whilst The Decisive Battle plays
June 20, 2025 at 11:21 PM
Secured the bag for tickets on Mariah Carey’s tribute to JRPG protagonists like Terra and Celes with “Hero” re-cover edition in one of those whackadoo concerts for vidja game muzak. Let’s be so fr rn tho if it weren’t for video game OSTs, GIRL! How else am I to twerk whilst The Decisive Battle plays
In all my seeking, dearest Hamish who dared to look directly into the leucotome of our shared lobotomisation, our great severance of the discipline required to proceed in the procession. A migration of ghosts singing “volver,” but this isn’t a ghost story; it’s the story of a mother and a daughter
June 20, 2025 at 9:19 PM
In all my seeking, dearest Hamish who dared to look directly into the leucotome of our shared lobotomisation, our great severance of the discipline required to proceed in the procession. A migration of ghosts singing “volver,” but this isn’t a ghost story; it’s the story of a mother and a daughter
Speaking of my fan fic days which can be found on the WayBack Machine, teehee—it’s insane, really, what reliving the past can do to a person, to a community, when all what was needed was a reminder what went down and how best to move forward in interest of community, that which comes together
June 20, 2025 at 7:50 PM
Speaking of my fan fic days which can be found on the WayBack Machine, teehee—it’s insane, really, what reliving the past can do to a person, to a community, when all what was needed was a reminder what went down and how best to move forward in interest of community, that which comes together
In 1997 in a small Texas town a youth pastor placed a ticking time bomb into the child of ladders; perhaps this southern preacher thought to render the child, no matter how high he climbed without any rungs, would ultimately meet his end at the press of a button. A trigger, if you will, like anyone
June 20, 2025 at 6:13 PM
In 1997 in a small Texas town a youth pastor placed a ticking time bomb into the child of ladders; perhaps this southern preacher thought to render the child, no matter how high he climbed without any rungs, would ultimately meet his end at the press of a button. A trigger, if you will, like anyone