HOLY SHIT WEEVIL

another intriguing day! 😊 in the desert of the real

Three strangers approached me yesterday. The first, a preacher, offered me a leaflet,and told me I "look like I go to the gym". The second, a wiry old guy, handed me two packaged XXL t-shirts and left. The third was a 60 year old ex-cop, who told me how Interesting I look, at length. In the desert.

Unfortunately the Anti-King only remained present in our reality briefly after manifesting in the body of Henry Raspe, but leading theorists believe one might be maintained indefinitely under certain atmospheric conditions, revolutionising anti-Monarchist theory.

Sighing heavily and incrementing the "called a big strong boy" at work counter

If I can get you to read one Hainish short story, read Solitude. If I can get you to read every Hainish story, tell me when you get to City of Illusion because that shit is crazy, right?

One of my coworkers got handed a Christian transphobic pamphlet and I got to have the purest "supportive coworker" conversation as my manager at once laughed at the cis woman for getting handed the pamphlet while saying the prejudice of the text was "like something from the 60s".

Tis the season - the most wonderful time of the year. That's right, Natsu Basho and Jeanne Dielmann steak dinner marathon.

In many ways being aromantic is like being a knight-errant. In many ways being a lesbian pervert is like being a Victorian schoolmistress. In many ways being a warehouse assistant is like being a draught horse. In many ways being me is like being things I think are cool. This is, I'm sure, profound.

It's gotta be Kino's Journey www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7f0...

Mentioned social anxiety in conversation with a friend and a nearby acquaintance exclaimed "//you// have social anxiety?!?" What can I say except lmao

Getting a new manager makes you understand why medieval nobles were always betraying new kings.

I'm exploring locations. I'm scouting areas. I'm interacting with dog walkers you can't even imagine.

Having an internal falling out about the distinction between narrativisation/the performance of archetypes/the organic experience of the self/eating a sandwich

Anyone have any suggestions on where to get a cuneiform tattoo? Like, any artist you know is up for fairly elaborate script-work, I guess?

Another proletarian lunch in the.. uhh... the staff room of the real?

Another beautiful day, in the immanent grove of the real.

Fabric scissors and hair clippers talking to me like the green goblin mask

Dare you scale my paludarium tower, magician?

Thus sayeth the dark powers of the earth;

I LOVE READING IN TRANSLITERATION I LOVE READING IN TRANSLITERATION I LOVE READING IN TRANSLITERATION AAAAAAAA

"Please let me wake up now, god, don't let me die while I'm like this" line from a musical it is normal to have fixated on as a 16 year old "boy".

Gritting my teeth mid overhead press when the drop hits in Kate Bush's And Dream of Sheep

Women are continually making various propositions to me. In another age I'd have been a wonderful governess.

At the rave surrounded by people dressed as ponies or in fursuit heads or as Jeff the Killer wondering if I look weird. In the mosh pit trying to work out the implicit rules of the space. Even being on acid is not enough to free me from my shitty brain-panopticon. Life is a vale of willow boughs.

Getting back from the rave on a sunlit Sunday morning. There really is nothing you can see that is not a flower And Then, of all things, it proves that there is nothing you can think that is not the moon, either!

TERRAIN. PULL UP. TERRAIN.

THESE COLOURS DON'T RUN!

Sometimes you just have to throw your hair in a bun, dissociate, cry for two or three hours, bake a cake and handle it, y'know?

Another Beautiful Day in the Tesco of the Real.

She is the blueprint.

There's a quote from a praise poem of Šulgi, King of Ur in the 21st century BC, which I love and repeat to myself often "I am a donkey of Šakkan who loves to run". First recorded horse-boy.

I spend 3-6 hours a day in heavenly battle with the Serpent of Social Anxiety - as I presume is usual.

The jogger is the natural enemy of the public S&M enthusiast, as the sages tell us.

Top drop and an MDMA comedown resemble one another in a lot of ways, not least that your jaw hurts from biting down so much. Another of life's coincidences.

First date line.

1910s personal ads at once subtle and blatant.

Viscerally angry that the biscuit adverts in the train stations I'm passing through, of joyous people eating biscuits on a train, are visibly not on a Scotrail service. Disgraceful.

Within you there are two horses. One is listening to PEGASUS. One is listening to Hal-an-Tow. It is springtime.

Spending my lunch break writing out theories on the metanarrative structure of Revolutionary Girl Utena and listening to horsegiirL, because you have to wear your own skin.

Staying up till 2:30 on a work night doing graphic ERP over texts - gosh it's like being [insert concerningly low number] all over again.

Me, fourteen sheep-cup teas deep, staggering up to Kyouichi Saionji: "i could take you away from all this"

Ascending into the vast labyrinthine halls of stone beneath the shifting surface of my mind, hunting like a mad anchoress in the dark as I try to work out which flavour of Subway cookie they baked on the tray they then baked this one on, and whether or not it was soaked or not. Probably rainbow.

The big aro flag hanging along the level of my bed, so you cannot possibly sleep with me without seeing it, is what we call Environmental Storytelling.

Oh hey there, didn't see you come in - no, not at all - you've just caught me reading peak

£158 original Bull Nakano poster is the mind killer. It is the expense that precedes true bankruptcy.

Bus driver shouting up the stairs to ask if we want anything from the shops. Thanks bus dad, I'm alright.

Normal Again.