jims
@jims.bsky.social
i'd tickle a fish if the wet chime of its laughter could heal us
Pinned
jims
@jims.bsky.social
· Jan 25
taught a slime mold heliocentrism and now it grows in concentric circles. an expression of reverence? who can say
the bird soundlessly alights, silhouetted against the pale morning sun, yet, casting no shadow. it wears the head of a snake, forked tongue flicking hypnotically as it proselytizes; 'love is the new flesh,' it crows, 'abando-
i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up
i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up
February 15, 2026 at 3:17 PM
the bird soundlessly alights, silhouetted against the pale morning sun, yet, casting no shadow. it wears the head of a snake, forked tongue flicking hypnotically as it proselytizes; 'love is the new flesh,' it crows, 'abando-
i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up
i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up
twelve eggs left in the Hardware Nest! what will hatch next? will it be a Makita DHP484Z 18V Mobile Brushless Heavy Duty Compact Hammer Driver Drill? maybe a can of solvent, or a bag of assorted screws? it's exciting not knowing. i only feel alive monitoring the eggs. the mystery keeps us all sane
February 10, 2026 at 2:35 PM
twelve eggs left in the Hardware Nest! what will hatch next? will it be a Makita DHP484Z 18V Mobile Brushless Heavy Duty Compact Hammer Driver Drill? maybe a can of solvent, or a bag of assorted screws? it's exciting not knowing. i only feel alive monitoring the eggs. the mystery keeps us all sane
nothing prepares you for the sound of your own bones snapping. i hear it when i close my ears at night; the mellifluous flute trill of a tibia, or the meaty french horn honk of a knuckle bone. if i were to fall from a great height my bones would shatter, birthing a harmonic symphony of splinters
February 10, 2026 at 1:30 PM
nothing prepares you for the sound of your own bones snapping. i hear it when i close my ears at night; the mellifluous flute trill of a tibia, or the meaty french horn honk of a knuckle bone. if i were to fall from a great height my bones would shatter, birthing a harmonic symphony of splinters
sand is just glass yet to realize it's potential. you look at a pristine stretch of beach and see summers with Father, a tipple of granita in the moonlight, listing your first sandcastle on zillow; i see a technicolour cathedral of stained glass effigies, a million Fathers rendered kaleidoscopic
February 9, 2026 at 2:12 PM
sand is just glass yet to realize it's potential. you look at a pristine stretch of beach and see summers with Father, a tipple of granita in the moonlight, listing your first sandcastle on zillow; i see a technicolour cathedral of stained glass effigies, a million Fathers rendered kaleidoscopic
ant: do you ever wonder what lies beyond the colony? we serve a thankless queen, beholden to her whims and yet in return receive nothing but more toil.
yoda ant: know i do not. little guy i found, under a leaf i did hmmmmm
bovino: ᵤₚₚᵢₑₛ!
yoda ant: know i do not. little guy i found, under a leaf i did hmmmmm
bovino: ᵤₚₚᵢₑₛ!
January 27, 2026 at 1:57 AM
ant: do you ever wonder what lies beyond the colony? we serve a thankless queen, beholden to her whims and yet in return receive nothing but more toil.
yoda ant: know i do not. little guy i found, under a leaf i did hmmmmm
bovino: ᵤₚₚᵢₑₛ!
yoda ant: know i do not. little guy i found, under a leaf i did hmmmmm
bovino: ᵤₚₚᵢₑₛ!
at least the samurai in my backyard is quiet. he respects the peace, even as he drives his sacred blade through my tomatoes. i watch helplessly as he perfectly bisects every lemon on my tree, slashing green beans and carrots with calm determination. i sit, watching, quietly hoping that i'm next,
January 26, 2026 at 1:07 PM
at least the samurai in my backyard is quiet. he respects the peace, even as he drives his sacred blade through my tomatoes. i watch helplessly as he perfectly bisects every lemon on my tree, slashing green beans and carrots with calm determination. i sit, watching, quietly hoping that i'm next,
look at us, brother; suckling from the teat of Big Tech. which industry is ready for plunder, can we be disruptors in the bog space? listen to yourself. we need to sit in the brackish waters and lay amongst the moss. the swamp will provide its own milk and nectar and hot goth gfs/bfs
#creamernation
#creamernation
January 19, 2026 at 12:15 AM
look at us, brother; suckling from the teat of Big Tech. which industry is ready for plunder, can we be disruptors in the bog space? listen to yourself. we need to sit in the brackish waters and lay amongst the moss. the swamp will provide its own milk and nectar and hot goth gfs/bfs
#creamernation
#creamernation
watching a lot of forged in fire recently. started seeing every chunk of metal as a potential blade, every chip and crack as flaws in the heating process, every passing human as a decorated ballistics dummy coyly waiting to be disemboweled with erotic precision by doug marcaida. i am Doug Marcaida
January 18, 2026 at 6:59 PM
watching a lot of forged in fire recently. started seeing every chunk of metal as a potential blade, every chip and crack as flaws in the heating process, every passing human as a decorated ballistics dummy coyly waiting to be disemboweled with erotic precision by doug marcaida. i am Doug Marcaida
cop: have you been drinking tonight sir?
yoda: [waving hand] mmmmsh give me t-*hic* ticket, you will not
cop: i will not give you a ticket
yoda: [waving hand] take me to burrrger king you will
cop: i will take you to burger king
yoda: love mme like a mother
cop: what
yoda: what
yoda: [waving hand] mmmmsh give me t-*hic* ticket, you will not
cop: i will not give you a ticket
yoda: [waving hand] take me to burrrger king you will
cop: i will take you to burger king
yoda: love mme like a mother
cop: what
yoda: what
January 17, 2026 at 5:29 PM
cop: have you been drinking tonight sir?
yoda: [waving hand] mmmmsh give me t-*hic* ticket, you will not
cop: i will not give you a ticket
yoda: [waving hand] take me to burrrger king you will
cop: i will take you to burger king
yoda: love mme like a mother
cop: what
yoda: what
yoda: [waving hand] mmmmsh give me t-*hic* ticket, you will not
cop: i will not give you a ticket
yoda: [waving hand] take me to burrrger king you will
cop: i will take you to burger king
yoda: love mme like a mother
cop: what
yoda: what
The Obelisk towers over the desert, voraciously devouring light and heat reflected off the shimmersands. relentless easterlies whips dune peaks, growing cold and moist in passing; all manner of strange and frosted flora grow in the lee. a lone beetle stands before it; "this is my kingdom. my empire"
January 17, 2026 at 5:20 PM
The Obelisk towers over the desert, voraciously devouring light and heat reflected off the shimmersands. relentless easterlies whips dune peaks, growing cold and moist in passing; all manner of strange and frosted flora grow in the lee. a lone beetle stands before it; "this is my kingdom. my empire"
my large adult son has heard tell of the medium adult son movement and become incandescent with jealousy. while i might fear for his sanity, the white-hot glow emitting from his core is the perfect beacon to guide my trade fleet home! they return with a bounty of exotic fruits and spices! hooray!
January 17, 2026 at 2:26 AM
my large adult son has heard tell of the medium adult son movement and become incandescent with jealousy. while i might fear for his sanity, the white-hot glow emitting from his core is the perfect beacon to guide my trade fleet home! they return with a bounty of exotic fruits and spices! hooray!
my large adult son's plush interior is rated all the way from raw vacuum to 12,000,000 kPa. kept at vacuum that sumbitch could suck a lightly pickled bulb of limp burrata right outta the caboose of a low-flying dad at 200 paces. full pressure, he could spit it back into the right eye of god almighty
January 10, 2026 at 5:43 PM
my large adult son's plush interior is rated all the way from raw vacuum to 12,000,000 kPa. kept at vacuum that sumbitch could suck a lightly pickled bulb of limp burrata right outta the caboose of a low-flying dad at 200 paces. full pressure, he could spit it back into the right eye of god almighty
happy new year. not going to belabor the point, just excited for whatever 2026 may hold for all of us. could pen a lengthy diatribe against unsmoked ham, could paint a verbal picture of an ocean scene broken only by two puppets kissing; i won't. not today. this is a hopeful moment. namaste, fuckers
January 1, 2026 at 6:30 AM
happy new year. not going to belabor the point, just excited for whatever 2026 may hold for all of us. could pen a lengthy diatribe against unsmoked ham, could paint a verbal picture of an ocean scene broken only by two puppets kissing; i won't. not today. this is a hopeful moment. namaste, fuckers
people in my dreams are formless, hollow. every smile, every frown, every expression micro or macro is pareidolic theatre on a stage sightless; apophenic marionettes of smoke and jade. every meaning is my own; to find yours, join mcdonalds as we celebrate The Calming End! hurry, while stocks last!
December 31, 2025 at 3:12 PM
people in my dreams are formless, hollow. every smile, every frown, every expression micro or macro is pareidolic theatre on a stage sightless; apophenic marionettes of smoke and jade. every meaning is my own; to find yours, join mcdonalds as we celebrate The Calming End! hurry, while stocks last!
iron ore has no concept of time; no emotional connection to the passing of an earth year, no skin to bask in the warmth of the fireworks. it has no heart to grow cold when mortality comes hooning, blasting through yet another toll booth along the finite highway of a human lifetime. can't hoop either
December 31, 2025 at 2:53 PM
iron ore has no concept of time; no emotional connection to the passing of an earth year, no skin to bask in the warmth of the fireworks. it has no heart to grow cold when mortality comes hooning, blasting through yet another toll booth along the finite highway of a human lifetime. can't hoop either
long milk. are the protein chains girthier? is it a milk that can only be synthesized through an arduous and lengthy process? no. long milk comes from a long elk and brother, you don't want to know why that elk is long. yellow yoda you must hit, the good shit it is
December 9, 2025 at 6:03 PM
long milk. are the protein chains girthier? is it a milk that can only be synthesized through an arduous and lengthy process? no. long milk comes from a long elk and brother, you don't want to know why that elk is long. yellow yoda you must hit, the good shit it is
my beautiful dark twisted fantasy
December 9, 2025 at 2:10 AM
my beautiful dark twisted fantasy
there's a colour they don't want you to see. they hoard it like dragons to a chromatic treasure pile, deep below the mountains of bhutan. it is said that those who witness it are changed forever, transcending flesh and blood. it makes you go bald and talk like yoda. it's the yoda colour, playboy
December 9, 2025 at 1:43 AM
there's a colour they don't want you to see. they hoard it like dragons to a chromatic treasure pile, deep below the mountains of bhutan. it is said that those who witness it are changed forever, transcending flesh and blood. it makes you go bald and talk like yoda. it's the yoda colour, playboy
hell, i'll eat a bratwurst lunch. mother likes them boiled but father knows the secret to the perfect bratwurst - basting it in shadow oil. we milk it from the obsidian monolith; it reeks because of all the dead birds at its base, but the oil it secretes is divine. it made me strangle the stable boy
December 7, 2025 at 1:31 AM
hell, i'll eat a bratwurst lunch. mother likes them boiled but father knows the secret to the perfect bratwurst - basting it in shadow oil. we milk it from the obsidian monolith; it reeks because of all the dead birds at its base, but the oil it secretes is divine. it made me strangle the stable boy
we are an isthmus; tide and time abrade our core, erosion into mitosis. we yearn across that channel, love-bearing sands once now cold and drowned. if you microwave a hand puppet it gets real hot inside, you can pretend you're using a small warm man as a glove. if you want. i won't tell anyone
December 5, 2025 at 3:02 PM
we are an isthmus; tide and time abrade our core, erosion into mitosis. we yearn across that channel, love-bearing sands once now cold and drowned. if you microwave a hand puppet it gets real hot inside, you can pretend you're using a small warm man as a glove. if you want. i won't tell anyone
every student in this dojo is envious of my Ten Palm Hurricane Kiss. bearing the weight of their jealous whispering is like donning a coat of snakes. however, once i figure out the 11th Palm... i will kiss the moon into dust. tides will swallow this dojo and i will find love with the valley salmon
December 5, 2025 at 2:15 PM
every student in this dojo is envious of my Ten Palm Hurricane Kiss. bearing the weight of their jealous whispering is like donning a coat of snakes. however, once i figure out the 11th Palm... i will kiss the moon into dust. tides will swallow this dojo and i will find love with the valley salmon
my large adult son fizzes in his beaker, insolent bubbles crackling at me from across the kitchen. "soda arc" he tells me, "soda mode". i caught him in the fridge mingling with a dr pepper. none of this is in god's plan
December 3, 2025 at 3:39 PM
my large adult son fizzes in his beaker, insolent bubbles crackling at me from across the kitchen. "soda arc" he tells me, "soda mode". i caught him in the fridge mingling with a dr pepper. none of this is in god's plan
sneaking a toad into the maternity ward and using it to imprint on all the babies. the next generation of Bog Boys is born.
December 3, 2025 at 12:04 AM
sneaking a toad into the maternity ward and using it to imprint on all the babies. the next generation of Bog Boys is born.
admiral worm writhes atop the promontory, despair writ in every movement. war drums pound ever closer, yet without eyes he cannot guide the fleet. worms wriggle across decks of ships they are physically incapable of operating, slapping uselessly against the hardwood. they are not long for this world
December 2, 2025 at 11:59 PM
admiral worm writhes atop the promontory, despair writ in every movement. war drums pound ever closer, yet without eyes he cannot guide the fleet. worms wriggle across decks of ships they are physically incapable of operating, slapping uselessly against the hardwood. they are not long for this world
doing the tom cruise run straight towards you. i am clearly terrified. every time you blink i get farther away. somewhere in the world a goose honks, but no one is around to hear it
October 12, 2025 at 6:28 PM
doing the tom cruise run straight towards you. i am clearly terrified. every time you blink i get farther away. somewhere in the world a goose honks, but no one is around to hear it