#Dementia is fucking vicious

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Can dementia be prevented?

Reducing the risk of it yeah, w a healthy lifestyle. Preventing it no. The first patient I saw w the specific case of dementia I’m studying is a literal heart surgeon 💀 not the average bear at all. Big brain & healthy (according to his wife) & yet started showing symptoms over a course of 6 years.

It’s so fucking scary what dementia does to you. It’s far from just being cognitive stuff/memory loss. Your behavior changes, your cognitive skills are impaired, your motor skills take a hit. The heart surgeon I’m talking about is struggling w mouth function rn, bc his muscles are atrophying as a direct result of his dementia. He legit went from operating cardiovascular surgeries last October to now not being able to speak. It’s different from case to case, but when it’s aggressive it’s fucking aggressive. The neurologist I’m shadowing was talking about how she doubted if he’d “still be here within the year” and I wanted to throw up bc what do you mean if he’ll still be here!!

[animentality]

Twitter!!! Where you go online to argue about people that don't exist in a vicious sprawling discourse that shouldn't exist about something that never happened!!

Tumblr!! Where you go online to look at normal aesthetic cottage core photos and the most depraved opinion a human being could ever have about a cartoon that came out twenty years ago, also fight a dozen wizards bare handed not because you have to but because you want to for your own sick pleasure!!!

Facebook!! Where your parents go to further their sense of paranoia and fear and possibly worsen their early onset dementia!!!

TikTok!!! Where you go when you don't care about your data being stolen by Chinese spyware and you have terminal ADHD and also you need a far inferior form of vine mixed in with YouTube amv culture from the 2000s!!!

The internet!!! The resting place of freedom and eternal madness!!!!

Hope you're having a good fucking time.

[cipheramnesia]

I watched my first horror movie tonight since i was a teenager in the 90's. Back then i mostly giggled through Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer with friends. Then life happened and i sort-of stopped watching things in general. Anyway, I'm now finding myself on months of bedrest and am watching things to pass the time and decided I'd watch a movie tonight and picked horror just to see if i even like horror. I caught The Pope's Exorcist and actually really enjoyed it, which is delightful! It kept me on the edge of my seat and in suspense and i know my heart was racing at times. So I figure enjoying that one gives me a starting point in the genre, and i was wondering if you might be able to suggest others based off my liking that one? I picked it based off rotton tomato critic and audience ratings. Not because i care heavily about such things, but it made it a logical place to start of what's new. I'm not catholic so i don't care about religion based horror but I'm not opposed to it. I don't like jumpscares. Learned that from Sixth Sense and 12 years on tumblr. Oh! I've also recently seen Renfield, though none of the dracula movies that follow the books. I don't really count Renfield as horror in this regard because it's comedy horror and more funny than scary. Kind of like how i found 90's horror. Though that might have been just as much me being a punk ass kid trying to look brave with my friends. Who knows. It was a long time ago. Anyway, do you have any suggestions? Old or new doesn't matter. I'm bored and mostly stuck in bed. Thank you for your time!

I haven't seen The Pope's Exorcist so I had to search it up - exorcism movies don't do a lot for me, but The Taking of Deborah Logan and Daniel Isn't Real are perennial recommendations which I think would sync up with possession movies. Deborah Logan is kind of divisive with how it treats Alzheimer's and dementia - for me it resonated with my experiences and felt like a sensitive exploration of the topic for horror, but it can also reas the opposite way.

Hellbender and The Deeper You Dig are some fantastic work by a team of independent filmmakers who are also a family. They all act and direct and write together in upstate New York and have astonishing talent. A magnificent illustration of why seeking work by independent artists is such a good idea.

I just watched Ghost Crew, a weird little low budget Scottish movie that I won't say too much about except that it starts out as slightly cringe-comedy faux documentary and grows into a lot more. Zombie For Sale is an adorable Korean romantic comedy zombie movie I had a fun time watching. The Dark (2018) also very intriguing movie, basically victims of abuse getting revenge but one of them is a revenant.

Jamie Marks Is Dead is a queer ghost story that made me cry, everyone should watch it. Also in the sweet romantic category is Attachement, a Jewish and queer horror. It's written and directed by a Jewish person and to my experience felt very true to life. My personal reading of it was a kind of metaphor about how Judaism can be carried forward in different ways everywhere from generational to academically to people who convert. It's another one that I think could be read different, but the positive reading works better for me.

A Wounded Fawn is just bonkers surreal, I can't describe it exactly but it's about a serial killer who gets in deep with some very hallucinatory shit. Related, but Vicious Fun is exactly what it says on the tin. Very fun silly stuff. He's Watching is imho one of the most terrifying found footage movies ever. All found footage movies use a lot of pretty common and consistent tricks of limited light and limited perspective, but He's Watching fucks with the sense of reality by constantly obfuscating who or what is recording, where the line between real and film is blurred.

Babysitter Wanted is also a fun twist on the satanic panic trope. Also similar in that vein, Anything For Jackson is pretty neat. And while I'm thinking about Shudder, The Mortuary Collection is pure spooky fun, a delightful anthology movie with Clancy Brown getting to chew up some scenery. Also for the movie that has everything, Saloum. It's a kind of revenge crossed with magic crossed with evil spirits centered around a bad ass team of mercenaries for hire.

Also check out my horror movie tag.

[jahrube]

It’s been a while and it’s been a ride. Changed medications from Fluoxetine to Mirtazapine.

My back has been really bad recently and they’ve put me back on Gabapentin. I’m currently on 1200mg a day but need to up to 1800mg over the next 2 weeks. They also recommended Tramadol. Sigh.

Me and Tramadol have a complicated past. I used to take them for my back. It started off fine but soon I was taking one more tablet a day than recommended and then it was 2 more and 3 more and before I knew it I was buying strips from people because I’d raced through my prescription that fast. During this time I was also recreationally taking high doses of Codeine. All a very bad mix.

Whilst in the grips of Tramadol and Codeine, my Dad died. He had Dementia, had a lot of strokes, was blind and was physically disabled. We had a rough relationship. I could tell that he definitely loved me but he couldn’t treat people right. He was endlessly abusive towards my Mum and myself and she eventually left him when I was 11 after they’d had a fight over my Mum taking us to see her parents and I had called the Police. He wasn’t just vicious with his fists though, he was also vicious with his tongue. I once overheard him telling my best friend at the time that I’d make nothing of my life and end up an alcoholic in a ditch somewhere. So, anyway, I was a mess then and I ended up falling into the arms of my ex neighbour/Dad’s business partner after my Dad’s funeral.

He, we’ll call him J, told me everything that I was dying to hear. I now realise that it was grooming and completely wrong on his part to be manipulating a grieving 22 year old addict. He told me that he would look after me because he had told my Dad that he would. J understood how I was feeling about my addiction as he was an addict too. I felt like he knew me inside and out. At this time he was spilt from his wife (who lived a few doors away from me and still does) so I felt like I had a purpose to care for him and look after him. Weird really. Anywho, I ended up pregnant and having an abortion. Do I regret it? Not really. I couldn’t bring a child into the world when I couldn’t get off these pills and definitely not with J as the father. I, we, wouldn’t have been able to give that child a good life.

Because I’ve heard the word Tramadol, it’s brought all this up in my mind. My Mum, who we currently live with, takes Tramadol. I’m sure she’s probably addicted as well. But it makes me want it and I’ve asked her for a strip to bring with us, whilst we’re on holiday for my little boy’s birthday.

I’m stuck. I don’t want to be in pain but I definitely don’t want to go back down that addicted road. I can hear the tablets screaming my name from my bag.

Fuck.

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

A retaliatory swat at the accusing digit before she props a defiant hand atop the arch of a cocked hip. "I am being serious! The first symptom of dementia is exactly this! You start saying wild shit that makes no sense! Then, your flimsy human brain gradually breaks down over a span of a few years to a decade until you are left with little more than a useless, shriveled prune in it's stead! I do not have the time to spoon feed you mushy peas and sponge bathe your disordered ass! ... Also, don't pretend you don't love it when I give you the ol' bishop's finger you fucking nutted all over the place last time!"

A flinch akin to having his hand swatted away from a tray of freshly baked cookies has his stupidly high collar bunching up by where his ears hide under his helmet, and he gives the limp wrist attached a defensive twist as he furtively checks to make sure she didn't scuff the last mani she gave him. "...dementia, babe- really?"

Of course she has to go all diagnostics mode on his ass when he's not serving the full amount of his cunt energy, but he supposes he did inevitably train her into doing so, even if his methods were more aligned in her mirroring his behavior over using it as a litmus test for illnesses of the terminally over 6,000 club. "You do realize I'm immune to all the Earthly ailments now, right? When I tell you I have a stomachache, I'm just trying to get you to rub my back." Which is probably a concept that is going to go right over her head because why would a stomachache equate to a back rub? That was part of the ruse for her never finding out, but cat's out of the fucking bag now. What is she going to single handedly decode next- the 'nah, I don't want anything' from the daily drive through run and then him proceeding to eat all her fries thing?

Her loudly exclaiming the triggers of his projectile nutting in the actual middle of the promenade earns a more virile flinch coupled with his wings snapping around them both like a sound proof tent as he hunches his shoulders to glower down at her inside, talons flexed into vicious tips as if he's considering the ways to mess up her hair so it looks like she just finished giving him mad head inside the tent, but settles for swatting her halo off its axis like a painting angled at just the right amount of wrong to be annoying. "I thought we agreed to NEVER mention that again! I was in a vulnerable spot- I JUST finished watching the Princess Bride, and then YOU took advantage of it!" The wings are definitely blocking the general public from this conversation and phones are not being whipped out at the spectacle.

[tuttle-did-it]

Americans, I say this with kindness and affection. USA is still a laughing stock. We still are very confused and shocked at what the fuck is going on over there.

The fact that it is still a neck-in-neck race and no one has a clue who will win between (not even close to an exhaustive list) an incredibly

Incompetent, incoherent, unqualified, sadistic

Son of a literal KKK member who

Inherited his wealth and has repeated business failures with several bankruptcies and is a

A convicted felon who repeatedly fails upwards into positions he has neither the skill or intelligence to support

rapist who breaks about sexual assault who overturned women’s rights over their bodies achieved 50 years ago. He is a

leader of a neo-Nazi, fascist cult who promises to be a dictator

Who wants a ‘United Reich’ and a real-life Purge (a Kristallnacht). He

Told his cult members to inject bleach and disinfectants to avoid Covid

determined to destroy the lives of women, queers and people of colour and so much more. He’s an

Ancient old man with obvious dementia incapable of putting together an entire sentence ranting about how much he loves Hannibal Lecter and

An inability to to remember which lie he told 8 minutes ago. He is also a

Climate change denier, doing ensuring he can to sabotage the few protections in place,

Encouraged literal insurrection

And didn’t care that shooting skyrocketed under his power. He

Gives death threats to various people (mostly women) and insists his opponents should be ‘slaughtered’

Invited foreign nations repeatedly to help him defeat his opponents

Invited billionaires to fund him in exchange for ensuring the taxes against them will amount to pennies

Literally stole confidential files and kept them in his fucking bathroom

Oh yeah and he was impeached

Fucking twice

Versus

Am incredibly intelligent

Personable

Qualified

Joyful

Sane

Experienced

Woman of colour who

Has worked hard to reach the position of power she currently has and deserves

But the still has to put up with the vicious racism, sexism and general vitriol for existing

And still tries to help the same horrible people attacking her with financial help and social structures like medical care and access to health care (regardless of gender)

WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS MONSTER EVEN HAVE A CHANCE ONCE LET ALONE TWICE

Listen. America. We want to be in your side here. Honestly!! But the fact that this is such a close race is one of the biggest problems of all.

To many of us, you’re country is still a laughing stock. Not you, personally (unless you’re in the MAGA cult), but your country.

Please, please, please. Prove to us all that you can make a sane choice for your leader. We want to be on your side. We don’t want you to be scared of your country, any more than we want to be scared of it.

Please. Fight on the right side, here. Please. Make the right choice here. Prove to us all that the only laughing stock is the MAGA cult and its leader.

We are going to a New Way Forward

[innocentpeach777]

the real tea abt the signs..... 💅🏿

and rating !!

dragging them......

VENUS IN THE SIGNS (and you can apply moon + mars 2...)

PART ONE

💕💖💖💖💖💟💌💌💌💝💕💓💗

aries - literal mongoloids, but, so sexy.... !!!!!! literally irresistible sex appeal... !!! 💃 12/10 like literally gold standard, god tier

taurus - like literally, i swear to god, don't talk to me. complete bitches. every last one of them. like i stg i look at a taurus, and they are like "you're already dead. you just don't know it yet." literally fucking VICIOUS, MERCILESS bitches. stupid though. like, really stupid. not as dumb as aries. like, they don't... come off like they have a disability.... or anything. but!! pretty stupid. like genuinely.

also, sidenote, right? but, like, they're so selfish. and materialistic. and they're like mentally deranged shut-ins. like calm down. all they care abt is nagging daddy to buy them more stuffies and cupcakes and shitting in their fucking nappies and swapping spit with daddy. it's ugly. like you're fucking ugly.

you're literally just some fucking ugly geriatric crone with no brain, fucking drooling your rancid spit all over the sidewalk with your fucking paci in, in only your fucking nappy, your bare, ugly fucking chicken legs out!! waiting for daddy to come back from work like some half-starved fucking dog!! die fr!! 😝🤑 -15/10 go back to the fucking dog pound!!

suggested music if you have ever been personalized victimized by a taurus (literally any of them also, taurus sun, moon, rising, venus, etc idfc), below

gemini - get out 😙😚 10/10

cancer - the murderous krebs....

murderous krebs..... 16/10 CRAB RAVE!!!

🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀 ♋ 🦀

for all my cancer girls out there!!!!!! you my real b's!! my real bbgirls!!!!!! ily!! i LOVE you!!!!! ❤

leo - like actual furries though!! like fr!!! i can't stress this enough!!! like yo why are you all furries?? like every single one of you??!!! it's disturbing. 🤯🤡 6/10

this one's for you stupid cunts!!!!

virgo - vore fetishists, formicophiliacs

like

dni

actual robots also. like honestly, it comes off like their feelings aren't even real. like, get the fuck off my planet, bitch.

🤖-13/10 y'all whack

libra - they're complete narcissists and crybabies with literally no brains. non-sentient. will make you eat their ass. then kick you out of their house!!!!!!! they'll forget who you are!! they have dementia!!

they'll literally fart on you. like. 😷🍑💨 y'all nasty.

and they'll eat all your damn food!! they're like rats i stg!! im gonna die, the next time i see a libra im gonna die!! like get out!! also, total victim blamers and gaslighters. cannibals. like straight up watch out. I'm not even fucking joking. 🐄 2/10 thieves also.

scorpio - love them. i can't cap anymore. i love scorpios. and i love scorpio, like, the sign, also, like so much. it's so amazing. i could eat them (scorpios) like a rich cake. like, i... could just eat them. oh, god. oogh. they make me go oogh. 👯��♀️ 💰 💲 🪙 💶 16/10 god tier sign (they love dookie though mm little piggies .... 🐖 🐷 🐽 🐗)

part 2 coming soon...... 💅🏿

u can use houses 2.... 💅🏿

[wahbegan]

One of my favorite things in the world to do in the Dishonored DLC is just...Arnold Timsh, you remember him? The barrister who, among other crimes: makes a racket out of falsifying reports of plague outbreak so that he can evict random-ass people and seize their assets (effectively sentencing them to death btw), deliberately withholds medial care from his dementia-addled mother and lies to and manipulates her so he can get her money when she dies, and coerces his maid into letting him fuck her under extreme duress? Yeah he’s a real piece of shit

So there’s a few things you can do to him. Break into his house and slit his throat, snipe him off his balcony if the RNG God is in a good mood (which is very satisfying), or falsify a plague outbreak on his property, effectively ruining him and sentencing him to death.

But there is ALSO a FOURTH option! Well, kinda. An off-shoot of the third one. See, if you get him arrested in Knife of Dunwall, he’ll be in one of the cells during the prison level of The Brigmore Witches, right? You prob know that. And if you talk to him (on Low Chaos), he’ll try to convince you to let him out.

But did you know you actually can? And I did.

And he was immediately chased down and beaten and stabbed and shot to death by the guards and it was the funniest shit i’ve ever seen in my life. And it doesn’t affect your chaos at all! Doesn’t ruin a clean hands playthrough, does not count as killing the man.

Disgraced him, ruined his life, had him imprisoned, and deliberately set him up to be violently murdered but you did not pull the trigger yourself so it’s heroic

See also finding Campbell dying of the Rat Plague after you brand him and have him cast out of the city all crazy and bleeding from the eyes and shit and then burning him alive and feeding his Kentucky Fried corpse to hagfish because FUCK that courtesan-murdering piece of shit. Fuck that fucking guy

See ALSOOOOO sealing Bundry Rothwild into the shipping box with the mutilated corpse of one of his butchers because i turn from a nice cuddly civilian saving teddy bear into an incredibly vicious, creative, and petty sadist when someone pisses me off enough

[ford-ye-fiji]

I’m crying a knives out tua au would be so good,,, Reggie dies at a party and it looks like a suicide but Luther doesn’t agree so he hires a PI.... the police question the siblings and are like “they all hate him how the fuck are we supposed to solve this”... grace Sees All but she’s deteriorating so they don’t listen to her... a murder mystery happens but the real plot was the sibling dynamics we made along the way

EXACTLY 👏👏👏👏

it could be so good!!! Even better make the PI Eudora Patch!!! It could be... so fun jaksks 

The suspects are Luther, the responsible older brother, Diego, the second oldest son who has a strange and worrying obsession with knives, Klaus, the drug addict who could’ve just been cut out of the will, the golden child, Allison, seemingly picture perfect until you delve closer and see the cracks in the facade, Ben, the second youngest of the siblings- studious and very good at his academics- but also, let be honest, a smart aleck, there’s Vanya, the mousy violin prodigy still trying to come into her own, and finally, the youngest of them all, little Number Five. He’s thirteen, after all, so not much notice is taken of him at first. There is also the mother, Grace, who appears to be slowly losing her mind to dementia and Pogo, the meticulous butler.  She doesn’t suspect the thirteen year old, until of course little things start adding up and suddenly you realize this kid is whip smart, one of those little geniuses in college before sixth grade, who also has a disturbing vicious side to him. 

Further investigation complicates the matter even further, revealing that Reginald absolutely was not the best father, manipulative and cruel at the best of times. 

Patch hates to say it but after a long and complicated investigation all roads point to Number Five. Over the course of the week she’s been witness to a lot of fights and a lot of growth as the family bonds (bc honestly there needs to be fluff here) and she can see that as nasty and cruel and calculating as Five can be, he is fiercely protective of his siblings. Unfortunately that doesn’t help to belay her suspicion, there was, apparently, a loud altercation a few hours before his suicide with Vanya, who, while estranged from the rest of her siblings, still remains extremely close to Five.  (Now, while none of the siblings are particularly close, they do tend to band together around Five. He’s rude and nasty but he is thirteen.)

So Patch gathers them all together and looks at them and while she knows who the evidence is points to, she truly doesn’t believe that any of them did it. There’s something she’s missing. 

[houseofpinkboombox]

As an American 🇺🇸 and someone who has been a life long dem. I'm 45, I can't believe I'm thinking of voting for Trump. I fucking hate that POS, he fucked our supreme courts.

But at least he didn't gut title nine. Put sanctions on Israel, one of our best allies.  or have a ministry of truth. Also, Joe Biden has dementia. I work with dementia patients that motherfucker has dementia. We don't actually know who is running our country right now so that's fucking terrifying.

Our best right now is that Trump pics Tulsi Gabbard, and then dies in office. Like I'll take it.  Joe Biden was five minutes in office and he bombed fucking Syria. And destroyed the middle class yes, he is responsible for gas prices. He turned off the fucking Spicket. Well OK the person puppet him turned off the spigot.

Trump might be vicious, horrible fucking narcissist, but at least he's our vicious, horrible fucking narcissist that won't throw the rest of us to wolves.

Maybe he'll fix title nine I donno. Maybe it will be worse I donno. I'm having these conversations with reformist Holocaust survivors and they're thinking the same thing. Like damn how's Biden make Trump look good? Truly. Wild.

 Like as somebody who is incredibly liberal, this is a crisis of the soul moment for a lot of us.

I've been saying this for a while, but finding this post on my dash has, I feel, given me more tools to express this thought about why Jews (especially in the US and American-dominated online spaces) are feeling increasingly alienated by their leftist friends. Why many Jews who otherwise lean left will vote right, much to the dismay and even revulsion of their leftist friends. Why many Jews end up feeling "safer" leaning right. Why it is not fair or reasonable to "blame" these Jews for exercising their democratic right of secret ballot in such a way.

I'm screenshotting the post because (a) it's long, and (b) most of its content is not actually the point here. I'm not trying to argue with the OP or with my acquaintance who reblogged it onto my dash. I just want to explain what I find troubling about it.

The post is, as I said, long. I'll be honest: I only skimmed it. I'm not American. So skimming past - scrolling past to see the rest of my dash - I saw a lot of things where my brain went "Oh, that looks bad," but, you know, in a vague sort of way. Bad, but doesn't impact me directly. Or bad, but not in a way I can do anything about it either way (especially since I can't vote in the US). Or bad-ish, but that's not an issue of deep importance to me personally. And then I saw this:

And suddenly I felt hostile to the OP, because oh look, they just lumped in supporting my homeland, where my family live, which is currently under attack and in dire need of support, as a "bad" thing. Suddenly I feel like OP hates me, or at least, considers my continued existence on their own list of "bad-ish, but that's not an issue of deep importance to me personally."

But you know what? I kept scrolling. It felt like such a mild lip-service anti-Israel line that I thought, "Maybe this person doesn't hate Jews and Israel so much." I reevaluated my initial hostile response and decided to give OP a second chance, to walk it back. It sickens me that I've gotten so used to racism against my people that some expressions of it just don't register anymore. But I kept scrolling, and it got worse.

So what I'm reading here is an excerpt from the document that sounds, to me as a Jewish person, eminently reasonable and reassuring. Couched in language and context from OP that wants to paint it as a bad thing that the writers of this document believe that Israel, the Jewish state and Jewish indigenous homeland, should be able to defend itself against... *checks notes* three terrorist organizations with genocide against Jews explicitly in their mandate, and one dictatorship country which has repeatedly expressed that it has the desire and is working on having the means to "wipe Israel off the map."

Perhaps OP has been living under a rock (or, like me, only really focuses on political updates that hit close to home) for the past 7 and a half months and is unaware of Hamas's horrific attack of October 7, 2023 against Israel, in which civilians were brutally slaughtered, young women raped, mutilated bodies paraded through the streets, and dozens abducted - many of whom are still in captivity to the terrorist organization which has not allowed any humanitarian visits to the hostages or even confirmed proof of life for those it still holds.

But when I read the above excerpted paragraph, I went from "I'm not American but I guess most of this sounds vaguely bad" to "I hope this party wins." "I hope that this specific part of this platform is implemented because it is offering support, protection, and safety for me and my family."

You - OP and people who share their views; you as non-Jews who do not share in our unique suffering - you have no right to blame us for choosing our own survival. I would expect you to prioritize yours, as well.

It is things like this - not this platform, but this post, lumping in support of Israel against three terrorist organizations and a genocidal dictatorship with all the other "bad" things like deforestation and nuclear weapons, that push Jews to the right, or at least away from this part of the left. It is reading things like this, that take it for granted that my family and I should not be protected, should not have a right to live in our home, that radicalize people like me.

You're right: most of the other things here are things I would deem as "bad," but if I embrace this platform with open arms at least I get to survive, to fight against the rest another day. Better than rejecting it in favour of someone who has otherwise wonderful ideals but wants me dead.

I want to be able to care about all the other "bad" things in that post, in that document, but right now, we are bleeding. If I had to vote on it right now, I would choose whoever penned this document or stands behind it, because I need to prioritize my safety and continued survival over any other platform issue, and if I am not for myself, who will be for me?

Not my friends on the left who decry support of Israel against genocidal terrorists as a bad thing, that's for sure.

[slovenlyrecordings]

You got some time to make these plans...

"Otis Tours and 14th Floor Music Distribution present THE SPITS!

Everyone’s favourite space-age mutant skate punks are coming to London for the first time!

The Spits are already as ingrained in modern punk music as possible, yet still manage to devour the rip-offs and influence the youth of today without even looking like they're trying. Going strong now for nearly 20 years, smashing the windows and tearing down the walls of our minds every time they play, these truly vicious visionaries have cooked punk down to its most powerful base form, crawling like Neanderthals through the muck, and creating a flaming trail of hits that'll take quite a fit of dementia to ever forget.

With an ingenious amalgamation of DEVO's early synth work in tandem with the absolute best Thug-Punk grunt the Ramones could ever maliciously muster, The Spits never try to reinvent anything, they just rip it's head off and drive it home time and time again.

A perfect distillation of punk's original open-ended weirdness, and modern music's serrated salvation, The Spits have proven themselves to be no one to fuck with, over and over again. True headliners, never to be followed and for good reason. They've always been one of the most original bands of the twenty-first century, yet it never really seemed like they weren't doing anything too experimental, save their signature, yet refreshingly just-ahead-of-their-time, synth/drum machine noise they forced the fickle punk crowds to gladly swallow.

The Spits have already done so much, but still have so much more to come, as they continue to influence anyone with a penchant for irresistible punk music, played like there's nothing to lose."

Tickets: £18 advance / £22 door

14th Floor (no added fee) here!

Wegottickets here!

[hotspurpercy]

WIP INTRO ― the sevenfold throne

started ― february 2018 status ― first draft wordcount ― 5k  pov ― third, multi themes/tropes ― royalty / power / birthright & duty / prophecy & destiny / politics / mirrors & distorted reflections / narrative foils / everyone’s queer

SYNOPSIS ―

the kingdom of erymthia is torn. torn between the ruling de veres, a conquering dynasty, and the ousted de carachelles dynasty. while the de veres have the power, queen gabriele is losing herself to dementia, leaving her six children to try and steady the sinking ship that is her government. meanwhile, brilliant, vicious tatian de carachelles gathers power and allies, seeking to take back what was once his family's.

as discontent builds, the country begins to crack -- but there are greater forces at work. the forces of prophecy, destiny, things far beyond mortal comprehension. a reckoning is coming, and neither dynasty will come out unscathed.

TAGLIST ― send an ask to be added!

GENERAL TAGLIST ― @noloumna / @onheil / @mademoiselle-auger / @vandorens / @nallthatjazz / @starshots / @semblanche 

(note: i’m putting the characters under the tag because holy fuck are there a lot of them)

CHARACTERS ―

julien de vere ― the eldest de vere; the sunflower prince, beloved by the people. his kindness is both is saving and his undoing, making people love him but consuming him from the inside. dying, but he still smiles while coughing up blood

camille de gisors ― a former knight whose life was changed by a jousting accident, and now tatian’s husband, camille sides with the revolution out of love and bitterness. as a spymaster and manipulator, he’s an expert at destroying lives

apolline de vere ― every bit as sharp and ruthless as her older brother is kind and patient, apolline is the real power behind the throne -- and she's determined to keep it that way, to protect her family, no matter how much blood she has to spill

tatian de carachelles ― apolline's opposite number, a vicious and driven politician. tatian has had the supremacy of his dynasty drilled into him from childhood, and is hellbent on claiming the throne -- if not for himself, then for his daughter.

amelie de vere ― the black sheep, burning bright, defying her family and dancing to her own music. amelie lives to oppose, to be contrary, to prove herself something more than what her mother or sister want her to be.

laëtitia renard ― blacksmith and voice of the people, she’s seen far too much fire and destruction for a young woman. she wishes there was a peaceful path to justice, but she’s tired, and she’s angry. there will be no more fires.

sebastien de vere ― the younger twin, infinitely more delicate than his reckless brother; sebastien has always found his solace in religion. lately, though, his prayers have gone unanswered. he only hears one thing from his gods: a prophecy, promising destruction.

adrien de corriveau ― the money behind the revolution, a flamboyant nobleman who may or may not have poisoned his parents. adrien wants to live life to the full, but he can’t do that with the voice screaming in his mind, screaming blood and death and grief.

rafael de vere ― the eldest of the twins, a skilled, reckless swordsman. rafael chases adrenaline wherever he can find it, living a carefree life of pleasure in chatelet coeurcheval. despite his recklessness, he's terrified of death and pain -- the very things that haunt his dreams.

sigolène thénevet ― an ex-soldier who joined up so young that when she was dishonourably discharged, she found war was all she knew, her only home. she ended up with the revolution by chance, seeking conflict wherever she can find it.

marcel de vere ― the youngest de vere sibling, marcel has always been discounted for his shyness, tucked away and protected by his siblings. but he won't be safe much longer; he'll have to grow up quickly, finding his place in the twisted web of fate.

jelena pastukh ― a nyrish arms dealer and sword-for-hire; sigolène’s boss. like her right-hand lady, all jelena knows is violence -- but she relishes in it. she colours her life with blood, with viscera, with the thrill of the kill; the only reason she stands with the revolution is the power it affords her.

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Scarification

{Related to/Sequel to This]

The stark realization Whirl couldn’t cry shook the household to it’s foundations. He waved away the concerns, bluntly denying worry until finally he snapped- prosthetic hands curled into fists and molten-gold eye vicious in it’s near-devilish shine.

“I’M FUCKING FINE.”

He wasn’t, but like hell would he admit it.

Perceptor watched, as he always did, while the rest of their odd family unit worried and fretted.

And then, the day came he struck.

“Whirl.”, he called out quietly, “I need a favor.”

“What, shortstack?”

“I have an appointment- it might be a bit of a rough one, and I need someone who’s going to be able to drive if the painkillers don’t wear off in time so that I can be here when the kids get home from school, if it’s no trouble.”

Whirl shrugged, getting to his feet after pulling over his boots and lacing them on, “Sure thing, sweetheart. What kinda appointment is this? It ain’t that hormone doc, is it? I still say they can suck a whole fuck-”

“No, they have since been... handled.”

“...They’re dead ain’t they.”

“Wh-No! I simply transferred my care to a better physician reccomended by Ratchet.”

“...So no one would know if they died, then-”

“YOU CAN’T MURDER MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS.”

“Can so. Anyway, what kinda appointment?”

They had argued and bickered the whole way out to the car, already on the way with Perceptor’s occasional direction before Whirl remembered his initial question. Perceptor blinked, before pulling away the patch over his eye and tucking it into his shirtpocket.

“Scar reduction.”

Whirl raised an eyebrow.

“Due to the nature of my previous injuries, sometimes the procedure becomes a touch invasive. They use various methods to reduce the size and discoloration; and in the event of my chest, on occasion must venture beneath the skin to free up my respiratory system.”

“Eh?”

“They get the spiderwebs out of my airsacs.”

Whirl snorted, but nodded.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Walking into the hospital made him tense soon after. He stayed close to Perceptor’s shoulder, squinting slightly at the doctor who met them- young, bright, but softspoken.

Perceptor spoke with them in low tones before sighing and unbuttoning his shirt. The doctor looked over to Whirl, and tilted their head with a small smile.

“Are you a friend of the patient?”

“Husband.”

The smile never changed, “Oh, excellent. Once today’s procedure is finished I’ll go over the aftercare with you, just in case! I’ve already informed Mister Drift and Doctor Ratchet.”

“Sounds good.”

They turned back to Perceptor, and Whirl’s eye narrowed. He, himself, was covered in scars; probably more that Perceptor given the... surgery he had received in his younger years.

“Mister Whirl? If you have any questions feel free to ask me.”

“Whatcha gonna do to him.”

“Today we are working on evening out the skin over his chest and checking on the healing from the last breathing issue we dealt with. He was having some issues with wheezing and tightness alongside pain and pulling.”

“Mhm, I remember.”

“I’m not sure how much of his history you know-”

“Served with him in the Wreckers, probably know more’n you.”

Something like alarm or relief was suddenly present on their face, “Oh! Oh that is excellent. May I ask you some questions, please?”

The squint continued, “Sure. But if I say I’m not answering, don’t be a shit about it.”

A confused head tilt, before realization and a pleasantly solemn nod, “Of course, sir. Do you know the extent of Mister Perceptor’s torso injuries? Finding any record on it has been... difficult.”

“There isn’t any ‘s why.”, said Whirl easily, “He was his own medic for all of it. If you need details you’ll need to contact Magnus.”

“Oh, wonderful- that will help a LOT in planning further treatment.”

A soft hiss from Perceptor, and they returned their full attention to him. Whirl watched the gentle motions, the careful way they handled Perceptor and his minute pains. And Whirl’s suspicious squint relaxed.

“Also, Mister Whirl- do you know the approximate age of Perceptor’s scarring, by any chance?”

“Kinda. Lessee... It was before Garrus 9, ‘n right after my veto...”

Whirl muttered to himself for a moment, quietly appreciating the patience the doctor showed before he was able to give a fairly close date, “Give or take a month.”

Honest gratitude shone in the doctor’s eyes, “Thank you so much! This explains quite a bit by way of how heavy the scarring is, and how widespread in the chest cavity it’s become. I’ll be sure to notify the head physician about this so we can modify your treatment.”

“Ugh, hopefully I won’t be the frog in the tin again.”

A soft chuckle, “Maybe only once or twice more; we were able to clear out quite a bit.”

“Izzat why you’ve been sleepin’ better Percy?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s good to hear! I’m sure uncle would be pretty upset if I made his old coworkers TOO uncomfortable.”

Whirl paused, “Uncle?”

A sad smile from the doctor before they bustled over to the small counter, plucking their necessities out of cabinets with some kind of muscle memory, “Yes, my uncle Sandstorm.”

“Sandst- oh. Aw geez, kiddo.”

“It’s alright! No need for the sympathy kiddos.”, they asnwered with a slight tightness in their voice, “But my uncle is why I went for becoming a medic, and went specifically full bore on this. Scars, even if they never really go away, deserve to be taken care of. Otherwise... well.”

A solemn silence fell over the room as Whirl and Perceptor quietly remembered old rules. The three D’s: Death, Dishonorable Discharge, and Dementia.

The third was always the worst, and Sandstorm’s case had been a pinnacle of suffering.

“So, now I’m a doctor- and, to be honest, I prefer to work with Wreckers like Mister Perceptor. Speaking of! You’re good for today, just some minor toning and double checking. Here-”

A small container put in Perceptor’s hand.

“This should help with the roughness of the skin around the scars themselves; and will help if there’s any peeling or inflammation. Keep them clean and use the cream you were prescribed last month and on your next appointment we’ll see how far they went.”

They turned to Whirl, and smiled, “And Mister Whirl? If you’d like my help, Mister Perceptor has all my contact information- unless you’d like me to give it to you for privacy’s sake.”

Whirl paused a moment, thinking. Perceptor seemed to not be paying attention, putting his shirt back on and swearing softly as sore hands rebelled against buttons.

Whirl nodded, and whispered, “If y’could, kiddo.”

A smile, a card slipped into Whirl’s hand, and a gentle squeeze of a steel forearm.

“See you soon, Sir.”

Soon turned out to be, ironically and quietly, the day after Perceptor’s appointment. 

Whirl swallowed hard as he was called back, greeted with the same soft smile and a gentle hand on a steel-plated arm.

“Hello Mister Whirl, it’s good to see you.”, they said with their voice calm and smooth, “Now, let’s see what we’re working with- as much as you are currently comfortable with showing me.”

“There’s. There’s a lot, kiddo.”

“I know. But I promise I’m no wallflower.”

Whirl choked and snorted at the almost kid-like grin, “Proud of that huh?”

“Sure am.”

Whirl shook his head, then began tugging his shirt from his body, up and over his head and set beside him in a mound of rumpled fabric. Some of the scars were raised, keyloidal and gnarled- but most were dips and dents in the skin.

With hands washed and gloves on, the doctor began carefully inspecting each one, asking quiet questions about pain and soreness and time and cause and simply listening- even when Whirl’s memory seemed to glitch, when he could remember the aftermath and not the reason.

“Well, we have a few options with a good majority of them. There’s lasering, which is quickest but can have some side effects and pain, there are topical treatments, various kinds of medicated lotions or creams that can be used.”

“Huh, go figure.”

“My major worry, however- Your arms and your eye.”

Silence.

“Mister Whirl, I know what they’re from. And even though I will never be able to understand the kind of pain you went through, I do need to be able to see what they left behind; I can’t change the past, I wish I could, but what I can do is make things less painful in the future.”

“....Nothin’ leaves this room, right?”

“Nope. Not even if Doctor Ratchet tried to badger me out of the info. My lips and records are one hundred percent sealed.”

Whirl chuckled. He knew Ratchet would never try such a thing but... For some reason, the promise helped.

“Watch how I detach the left, so you can help with the right, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

First, he removed the patch from his eye. He winced softly, the sudden chill of the air biting against skin normally covered. The doctor’s eyes widened, and they got to their feet to scurry over to.. the thermostat?

“I’m so sorry! I should’ve turned the heat up a little when you walked in- temperature can sometimes cause soreness in scars usually covered.”

“That why I swell up in the chilly months?”

“It can be a factor, yes.”, they said in concern, “But it can also be a sign of scar tissue reaching far deeper than it should, which is worrying.”

“Well, full eye gouging, so...”

“Mhm, that’d do it.”

Next, the arms- high tech prosthetics developed by Brainstorm in a fit of anger at the status quo. First the left, and then he nodded for help with the right. There was no pity in the doctor’s eyes, simply concern and calculation.

“...This isn’t a good look.”, was the flat answer.

“Y’don’t say.”

“See how the scarring has lumped up here, and here? And calloused over here? That will have to be dealt with or we could be dealing with some sticky problems.”

“Sticky how?”

“Sticky like pus pocket under the skin.”

“Gross- Perce has that issue with his eye socket once, some kinda skin infection.”

“Exactly. Scar tissue is just skin, but.. bassboosted.”

“...You sound like my kid.”

“Well, its a good way of putting it.”, they said with a shrug, “The thickness and uneven development is worrying to say the least- do you have any cushioning in your prosthetics?”

“Yeah?”

“May I look at them?”

“Sure, you’re the doc after all. My husband developed them- Not Perce. Brainstorm.”

The doctor began to meticulously inspect the prosthetics, “I see- would it be alright for me to contact him? The cushioning seems to be slightly breaking down, and I’d like to give him the contact of our prosthetics department to see if there are other materials available.”

“Er, I s’pose. His number’s in my phone- but after I got my arms back on, maybe.”

“Good idea.”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Brainstorm was startled by Whirl’s sudden homecoming near dinner-hour; raising his eyebrows at the sneaky behavior his husband was exhibiting. Beating down his natural anxious reaction, he crept after him and peered around a doorframe into the... bathroom.

“Now, lessee... She said this one was for-”

“She who?”

Whirl shrieked. Brainstorm crossed his arms, hip cocked and expression flat.

“She who, Whirl.”

“My doc.”

“...Your what?”

“Perce introduced me to the doc who helps with his uh. His scars. She’ll be callin’ you, actually. About my arms. Somethin’ about the cushioning in the prosthetics, and gettin’ you in contact with a buncha medics who had other materials or whatever.”

Brainstorm’s eyes lit up, “Oh, oh really! Excellent, absolutely excellent- It was touch and go with the internal padding, I was terrified of what would happen if it broke down too far-”

Whirl blinked, hanging a towel over the bathroom mirror as he always did, “Huh, really?”

Brainstorm rolled his eyes, “Yes, dork. I love you and don’t want you in pain or sore all the time just to have the ability to flip the bird.”

Whirl fell quiet, humming his acknowledgement before pulling the patch off his eye and tucking it into a drawer, “Also, ‘M not s’posed to wear my patch all the time. Worried about temperature sensitivity and swellin’ and stuff. And they ave me some weird shit to put on the old scars on my stomach and stuff. Said it’ll help with evenin’ them out.”

“Good, you’re always in hell when winter hits and you know it. I’m glad you went and saw a doctor, Whirl.”

Brainstorm snuck in, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to Whirl’s jaw before the phone in his back pocket trilled angrily, “Ah, what do you know- a mysterious caller!”

Whirl watched as Brainstorm answered, chatting animatedly about “developmental roadblocks” and “possible consultancy”. He shook his head, turning back to try and read the tiny print on the container in his hand..

“PERCE, GET IN HERE THREE EYES, I CAN’T SEE THIS SHIT!”

“WATCH WHO YOU CALL THREE EYES, YOU BLOODY SASQUATCH, I’LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!” 

[mousewitchy]

It’s just so wonderful to be judged by a handful of Tumblr posts. Just when I started to have a little faith in humanity, someone’s got to roll on by and take it away.

You don’t know me, @bdub86 and you obviously don’t care about me. That’s okay.

I care about you.

I’m sorry that people have hurt you and othered you and failed you so persistently that you’re comfortable coming into this space to tell me I am not good enough to repost your art. I’m sorry you have enough anger to rifle through these bits and pieces I have found the energy to repost in the last 8 months of hell I have lived through and judge me for that. Not just judge me, but make sure I knew I wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry that so many people have told you that very thing.

Did you read anything in the about me tag? I doubt it.

I did read your post. I thought I had reblogged the right things. I was wrong. I’m wrong a lot these days because I had a mastectomy at the beginning of this year, 6 weeks after undergoing the same amount of chemo my oncologist tells me he gives stage IV cancer patients. I’m not stage IV, thank goodness, but I’m 35 and I have two young kids and that’s enough to light a fire under their backsides.

Earlier this year or late last year, we celebrated what we though had been a complete response to chemo, and I have been irrationally embarrassed to come back and engage because when the pathology came back we found that even though it had stopped feeling like a tumor and looking like one, the affected area had barely been reduced and that vicious 20-week bombardment of toxic chemicals had barely touched it. We’d put my entire family through that for nothing. As an added bonus, I regained sensation in the chest 6 months before I was supposed to which doesn’t accurately describe the indignity of feeling those tissue expanders under my skin like two small suns of pain and then the radiation burns from the inside out at the same time because you’re taking half the recommended dose of pain meds because your medical PTSD is screaming that they’ll think you’re lying that it hurts. But my pain is not the point, only context.

See, when you stack major surgery and two months of agonizing pain (and that horribly guilty clutch of the heart when your baby tells you they miss you and you’re still right there) on top of chemo brain (google “post-chemotherapy cognitive dysfunction”) the constant screaming pain exacerbates that cognitive dysfunction. I cannot think. I lose words, or sometimes the entire conversation while I’m having it. I tried to respect the conditions you set, and I’m still on brainfucking meds and I fucked up. It was a genuine mistake.

I am a mom and a cancer patient, and I have been grappling for the last 8 months with the terrible conviction that even though I’m trying, because of that dysfunction—because I can still remember what it felt like to be able to think clearly—that my best isn’t good enough for my kids. Not good enough for them or my husband or my friends. That’s the voice that sets up shop when you’ve lost your hair, your breasts, your eyebrows, and all trust in your memory or judgment. This disease has fucked me up

I am so sorry that you have that anger. I am sorry that you have been hurt and made to feel not good enough.

And I am really fucking sorry I ever saw your post, dude. I’m sorry I saw it, I’m sorry I liked it, and I am unbelievably sorry that I wanted to share it with other people.

I have no idea how many times you’ve taken that quick peek at someone’s tumblr and demanded they delete that post because they don’t meet your standards. I have no idea how many people you’ve hurt because you’ve been hurt. I just hope you stop. It’s not going to help you heal.

This one barely-coherent post has taken nearly two hours to put together. I was almost an English major. I loved writing. I was never neurotypical but this is so much worse. I can’t think. I hate it. I’m self-conscious as hell about it. I feel so fucking stupid most days. I got that message moments after I reblogged it and I wanted to die. I wanted to melt back into the scenery and disappear forever. I cried, and I wondered if I would ever get my mind back because this shit’s like running around with dementia.

Let me say this part again: I wanted to die. I wished the cancer had killed me, because it’s turned me into someone who’s too fucking stupid to even reblog without hurting someone else.

Is this really what you want to put out in the world? Is this what you want to do with your effort and your art?

I hope you reconsider your words and the ways they have power, too.

[sambinnie]

Over the summer, my quite-old-but-not-that-old phone ate all my text messages and became almost thrillingly unreliable. Ever since then, I pick it up not with the usual subconscious rat-excitement, but with something like dread — it’s so clearly an addiction to something which, beyond podcasts and the camera, offers me far more hassle than pleasure or use, as is the way with anything one becomes addicted to. (Oh, and maps, occasionally.)

I absolutely loathe it, and once I’ve submitted this current big project, my next fairly dull task will be to try and wean myself off it almost entirely. Keep it in the office, plug the landline in somewhere more accessible and use that more, not have to check before I leave one room and walk into another than my phone is in my hand. God, it’s horrible. (Yes, also, music on the phone, also good. Christ.)

I realised the other night that my own anxiety and weariness comes from a sense that absolutely every choice I make these days feels like a battle for my soul. (Ugh, and the period-tracking app is useful. UGH.) It doesn’t feel like merely existing, it feels like living, heavy with some kind of extra-gravitational moral weight: did I turn off the lights/should I turn on the heating/is this food environmentally damaging/can I recycle this/are the children growing up to be vocal about the right things/but not so vocal that they increase division in society/it feels right to keep them off the internet/but will they be prepared when they are free-range on there/it’s great they’re all keen readers/but modern popular children’s books are almost universally awful. This isn’t parenting, or being an adult. This is living in an era where we are facing mass extinction either through climate change or mass conflict, fuelled and fired by those agencies which benefit from conflict and fear: arms manufacturers, politicians, media companies, product-makers, internet figures fashioning themselves into products.

If you are the product, what does that do to your soul? If your daily life, your family, children, friends and colleagues are the backdrop and the context for your self, sold and packaged to consumers or employers, do you gain more than you lose? If your most passionate conversations and throwaway jokes are all equally public, equally up for scrutiny, how does that ensure a fair life for you? If everything you ever say can come back and bite you — my primary reason to wish all children and teens weren’t ever allowed to say or write or do anything on a screen — how does that shape your life?

If you are a female MP, trying hard to improve lives around you, do you deserve to get hundreds upon hundreds of messages describing brutal sexual assault and violence against you and your family? You’re a public figure! That’s the price! If you’re a beauty journalist, having months of harassment and bullying by vicious internet trolls, how do you find the strength to speak up in a moving instagram video?

But. What if the source of that latter bullying seems to be — unless the source mentioned was not correct, unless something else is going on, which is of course more than possible, because nothing can be trusted on the internet — fairly calm critiques of your working practices both on- and offline? What if the trolls who have attacked your children in fact only mentioned them once, in the context of you promising never to use them in your social media? What if those board users were asking questions about your transparency and correct use of Ad and Gifted tags, and only when you set the internet against them does that board start screen-grabbing your own systematic and extremely public bullying (sometimes over long, long months) of other women in the media, attacking their looks, abilities, work and parenting? What if all your friends suddenly start deleting their old tweets (as you have already done) because your accusations have shone a bright light on a forum that at worst, matches tonally exactly the conversations you and media friends have on twitter, and at best are supportive spaces discussing dementia, cancer, cleansing routines, and their own experiences of bullying and unpleasantness at the hands of blue-tickers?

How does that make those female MPs feel? How does that make the women and men, boys and girls who have been harassed, doxxed, bullied and intimidated feel? I wonder what that does to your soul, when every mistake is so public? 

Running to the river now is in the dark; even when we climb out we do so by torch light. I hope you can all find something like this for yourselves, something calm and quiet and personal and fulfilling.

I come home and peel off my cold wet clothes, and look forward to more moments without my phone. 

1. I really, really loved this essay on introducing hope back into a nihilist world. It captures my own struggles with the messiness of everything – if this, then that, so which is worse? – and how everyone seems to be struggling with genuine, literal existential crises. But hope! And weight-lifting! I’ve been doing weights since the start of the summer and every time I lift it’s like a fucking joy injection. If you can start lifting heavy stuff, I massively recommend it. 

2. I want to post a link to the Pop Culture Happy Hour review of Todd Phillips’ Joker film, but I also want to be a better person than that, so I won’t. But Ready or Not is great fun, so maybe watch that instead! 

3. Here are some excellent children’s books series, if you want them: The Dark is Rising series, His Dark Materials, The Murder Most Unladylike books, The Sinclair’s Mysteries, the Tiffany Aching books... is that it? Always looking for more suggestions if you have them, please. 

4. Next time I get an invoice paid I am 400% getting this for the pup. The cold is mean to these feeble, speedy hounds. She is extreme excite. 

[kristofffaust]

“Godammit”

Existential thoughts from K. S. Faust. Inspired by a summary of Heidegger's philosophy I found.

One of my grandmothers has Alzheimer's disease. The other one died from Alzheimer's. I find it a horrible disease. The sufferer slowly loses touch with their reality. The loss of sentience creeps in such a gradual way that the individual is hardly ever aware of the degradation and by the time it becomes noticeable the individual's mind has degraded beyond the potential to even recognize the degradation. I always said that if I were to be diagnosed with Alzheimer's I would go out into the forest and fistfight a bear. Recently I've been pondering the fact that dementia might be a preferable alternative to dying lucid.

When you're lucid, you have the inescapable recognition that the yawning and abyssal chasm of what Heidegger calls 'The Nothing' looms before you. It is a dizzying and quite literally existential feeling knowing that each thought at that point may potentially be your last before you're swallowed by eternal umbra. I spent a combat deployment in Afghanistan. Quite frankly, I'm not terribly happy with my role as colonizer in a war that quite clearly fought for corporate interests. Especially as a man whose people had suffered from horrific colonization. The cognitive dissonance still fucks me up. Our first KIA in Afghanistan was a pretty vicious one. V.B. got hit by a directional IED. The Taliban had packed a giant circular tube with motorcycle parts and about 40 lbs. of explosives underneath it. They effectively constructed a giant shotgun. When said IED ignited, it blew off both of his legs and mangled one arm which might as well been amputated considering it was only held on by a thin piece of meat. I actually watched as his leg do cartwheels in the air above the explosion before falling back down into the crowd to end up Satan knows where.

He had a brief moment of lucidity before he lost consciousness. His last words were 'goddammit.' Simple, poignant, yet powerful words. Goddammit. The stark and sudden realization that it's always the one mistake. A brief moment of inattentiveness and suddenly, poof. The existential recognition that this is how you die. One can only guess what was going through his head at the time. Sometimes total mental degradation seems like the merciful way to perish. But who knows?