#Turkey Needle Felting

[theenbyroiderer]

In the lull between fiber projects I'll just post another tutorial. Though this one is less a tutorial and more vague guidelines. There are parts that I can't really tell you how to do and I'm sure there are details that I don't have photos of... but I'll try to describe the process as best I can, and just hope that my words can fill in the gaps. Just ask if you have any questions and I'll try to answer them.

Materials: Cotton fabric, durable, not too thin. Pipe cleaners. Off white cotton thead. Off white wool yarn, a couple different thicknesses is preferable. One shorter and one longer needle, both sharp. (I used sashiko needles, one ~4cm and one ~6 cm.) Felting needles, for the top of the skull. Various green shades of wool yarn, perle, and other threads, for the foliage.

Step by step instructions:

1. Make a skull out of pipe cleaner. Just do it, I can't tell you how.

2. Find something to fill your skull with. I filled mine with a bundle of orts (thread scaps), so in my mind this skull will forever be known as Ort-For-Brains. I stitched around and through the bundle of orts a bit so that it was less a random tangle and more of a solid round shape. Then I tucked the orts into the skull and stitched the skull to the fabric with just a few stitches (using a durable cotton thread) around the edge. Make sure you fill the space inside the skull completely. Underneath the face of the skull the brains poked out a bit, so I did some stitches with the cotton thread there to hold the orts down. Another filler may be easier to work with, but I just couldn't resist the though of using colorful orts as brains...

3. Stitch over the pipe cleaner scaffold using wool yarn. I can't tell you exactly how to do this either, and depending on the shape of your scaffold you might encounter different challenges. Just be methodic, and don't overthink it. Use a thicker yarn, or more strands, on the top of the skull, and thinner/fewer strands when you are doing the face. When doing the face I'd say start with the eye sockets because they dominate the face. Stitch outwards from them, as if the sockets are suns and the thread sunbeams, if you get what I mean.

4. When you have stitched to your heart's content you may want to felt parts of the skull to make it smoother. I did anyway. I took bits of wool yarn and carded them a bit to make them less yarn-shaped and more like little sheets of wool, then I used felting needles to poke them into place on the top of the skull. If you have actual rowing wool, use that, it's probably better.

5.When you are satisfied with the skull you can do whatever you want with it of course. I added foliage. Techniques I used for that include: turkey stitch, drizzle stitch, woven picot stitch, bullion stitch and french knots.

[pearlwingdraws]

Moth pin/brooch

A couple people asked me how I made this so I figured I’d just make a little post explaining it.

Before I start I WOULD like to disclose that the pin I’ve made is hugely inspired by the one by TheClosetHistorian (on YouTube) and you should definitely consider checking out her video if you want more instruction or like that format better.

I made a little graphic showing some work in progress pictures as well as materials and techniques used in the different areas. I will type it out in more detail below.

1. First draw out the shape I want on a piece of felt. Add some guide lines for different parts of the design. I layered mine double because it’s quite thin. I used an (unused) dish rag, so don’t worry about the quality of your felt.

2. I start off embroidering the “neck area”, using turkey stitch. Starting from the bottom up, I use a dark turquoise floss, then later mix in a lighter shade.

3. Next I sew on the beads. String on 5-6 at a time and then go back and tack them down with small stitches. I don’t know much about embroidering with beads, so this may not be the “correct” way to do it. The types of beads I used are size 11/0 seed beads and delica beads, as well as bugle beads and Miyuki’s Tila and half Tila.

4. Sequins. I recommend using flat ones instead of the ones I used. I work from the bottom up, trying to get a nice silhouette with the bottom layer, as this will form the outline of the finished piece.

5. After finishing with the sequins, I do some more turkey stitch around the top, so it covers up that edge where you can see the tread. Optionally you can do the whole thing with sequins if you want.

6. Next thing I did was some French knots, just above the turkey stitch in a contrasting color. This is just for some textural variety and decoration, as little “spots”. You can really add them wherever you’d like, or not at all.

7. Then I just finished embroidering the thing. Don’t know what the stitch is called, it’s just making little stitches beside each other until it’s all filled in. I did a little gradient because I felt like it.

For the legs and antennae, i also just winged it. The legs and antennae got layered double in wire and twisted before adding the beads and sequins, then I just used the very tip of my round plier to curl the remaining ends into round little “feet”. Then stitch them securely to the backside of the pin.

I finish it off with another layer of felt, this one painted with a fabric paint I happened to have lying around, both for some extra strength and to match the color scheme better. I cut little slits to fit in a regular safety pin (I recommend get a proper pin/brooch needle) and stitched the backing on with very dense stitches. Pictures below.

Extra suggestions:

If you don’t have sequins, or want a different look, you can embroider the whole thing. Alternatively you can fill the whole space with sequins if you don’t want to embroider it all. You can of course do any shape, size and color scheme, whether based on real life moths or just fantasy!

Lastly I just want to thank everyone for the love you’ve shown for this silly little bug 💖 it means the world to me, and it has really inspired me. I wish I could sell these, but I don’t think that’s really an option for me right now. I’ll let you know if that changes in the future, but until then, I hope those of you who have the interest to make your own find this helpful.

[conalnghing]

New updates on the conlang!!

In thisnpost i'm going to talk about the name of the language and fauna and flora vocabulary so you have a good idea of what the culture surrounding this language is, and also how im evolving a syllable block writing system and adding determanitives, but here are some boring clarifications of the previous post:

Phonology

A minor change about the sound /ʎ/, as i didnt know it was a different sound from the voiceless palatal lateral fricative (the ipa glyph of which doesnt render on my device💔💔💔). So if you see a /ʎ/ anywhere in posts about this conlang, just remember that it represents the voiceless palatal lateral fricative instead of /ʎ/ :)

Second thing is about the romanization, which i totally forgot to tell you guys about. Heres a list, ipa will be on the left and the romanized form will be on the right:(it has both digraphs and diacritics, so i apologize if its a bit messy and wierd)

Vowels

a - a

ɛ - e

i - i

y - î

ɯ -û

u - u

ə - ê

Consonants

t - t

d - d

k - k

g - g

q - q

ɸ - h

f - f

v - v

ɬ - lh

ʒ - zh

χ - hh

h - ħ

l - l

ʎ - ç

t͡s - ts

t͡ʃ - c

d͡z - dz

end of clarifications!!!

Name of the language

(Image is in the alphabetic syllabary: more on it later)

So far you may have noticed that i havent mentioned the name of this language so far, as i didnt have a name for it yet. But now, i finally have one!! It is:

Hhohulçna (IPA:χɔɸulʎna)

Gloss: air-breathe-AUG (literally "the great language/the powerful language")

I originally went with "Hhohuldzêlhê" (our language) but i felt like it would be a bit too common for a language name and too long for my tastes (even though most of the words in this language are long).

Flora and fauna vocabulary

For starters, Hhohuldzêlhê is from a culture heavily inspired by the Mayans, so of course i had to pick a new-world pre-columbian ecosystem. Some fauna words include:

cê (IPA: t͡ʃə) n.

snake (and also a homophone of "give")

dzlla (IPA: d͡zlːa) n.

fish, swimmer

tsêçtsîlla (IPA: t͡səʎt͡sylːa) n.

Gloss: hair-sharp.pointy (from "tsêç", "hair", and "tsîlla", "sharp, like a needle")

hagê (IPA: ɸagə) n.

squirrel

du (IPA: du) n.

jaguar, riddle, puzzle

qahhu (IPA: qaχu) n.

tapir (from the sound of a tapir)

Some flora words include:

hêlla (IPA: ɸəlːa) n.

vanilla, seed pod

kû (IPA: kɯ) n.

guava, rind

te (IPA: tɛ) n.

sweet potato

dê (IPA: də) n.

red chili, chili

tolla (IPA: tɔlːa) n.

green chili

tovê (IPA: tɔvə) n.

corn

These words are mainly concerned with food sources (turkey, armadillo, peccary, tapir, all the edible plants) and jaguar, which evolved to mean something that is considered dangerous or unpredictable, and later confusing. It's because of this that "jaguar" also means "puzzle, riddle", and later for problems (as in something to be answered) and rarely, an affix for words to make them dangerous or confusing (sort of like the augumentative affix but only for these two uses)

A lot of the animal words are derived from their sounds (or as close as i could match their sounds with the pheonemes i had and fitting the CV syllable structure), and the plant names are mostly random.

Script evolution

The language is now currently seperated into 3 stages: Proto Hhohulçna, Old Hhohulçna (which i have been using so far) and Classical Hhohulçna (the current language in my world, but i havent evolved most of the vocabulary to this point yet). Starting from here, i'll refer to them as PH, OH and CH respectively. I'll talk more about each of them in a later post, but right now ill focus on OH spelling rules.

In OH, if a consonant does not have a vowel after it, it takes on the dummy vowel "ê" in writing. Long consonants are written by either duplicating a character or adding the lenghthening mark (𠃍) below the character itself.

In between OH and CH, people started to add syllables belonging to dummy vowels above the block if the consonant was an onset, and after if it was a coda. In the above image is written "qê.lî-f.llo-cc", with "-f" and "-cc" written as stretched characters to the right of the main character.

Again, to save space, people lopped off the tops and bottoms of the consonant characters, creating an alphabetic syllabary.

An optional reading aid is for long consonants to add on an extra consonant to the syllable block before it, if it does not already have a coda:

As in "dzênnelho" (earn pay or a reward, gain food), it can be written as either "dzê.nne.lho" or as "dzên.nne.lho".

In the time of CH, word dividing has still remained basically the same out of tradition, even as paper became more easily mass-produced. Words with spaces are commonly seen on monuments for greater visiblity, or on official documents and work documents due to it's past connotation with royalty and formality. Words with dividing marks in the character itself remain the writing method of choice, due to higher information per amount of area and used on casual writings.

Both of these writing methods may appear on inscriptions, depending on aesthetics and the amount of space. For example, a lintel above a small doorway may use the spaceless "informal" text, while an inscription carved onto the walls may use the spaced "formal" text.

Besides different ways to seperate words from one another, this script is also unique in the fact that it uses determanitives. These determinatives reuse the original meanings of the syllable blocks, so the writer may add marks (commonly four strokes on the top, bottom or side of the determinative, indicating the bottom of the syllable "dzê", the first syllable of the word "dzlhê", meaning "to be like") to indicate that its not supposed to be read, or the reader may need to assume if the word has a determinative attached to it.

The determinatives appeared to solve one very annoying problem: as the language evolved into OH, some words became identical or almost identical, requiring determinatives to tell them apart.

The appearance of determinatives also changed the writing system a lot. Instead of writing the full word out (for example, hhoqûtsêqol, meaning bridge or solution. Written out as "hho.qû.tsê.qo.lê" in OH), the writer could write the start and end of a word, plus any other identifying syllable and a related determinative.

So instead of writing out all 5 complicated syllable blocks of "hhoqûtsêqol", one could instead write "hho.qo.lê" and add the determinative for "water" or for "stream".

Very long and complicated post today!! Hope it wasn't too confusing. I'll talk about some basic name derivation next time!!!

[beardedmrbean]

Chrissy Reifschneider had just left rehab to treat her heroin addiction in 2017 when she started taking tianeptine, popularly dubbed “gas station heroin." The 41-year-old from Alabama was struggling with low energy, so a family member who worked at a gas station recommended she try the pills. 

Within days, Reifschneider was hooked, and three dark years cruised by. Now four years clean, Reifschneider reflects on the deception that contributed to her tianeptine addiction and the overwhelming shame that followed. It's a trend that addiction medicine experts say shines a sobering light on the ongoing mental health crisis that's driving people to "easy" solutions amid widespread healthcare accessibility issues in the U.S.

“I thought well, I'm not sticking a needle in my arm, so I literally convinced myself that I wasn’t a drug addict until I realized I didn't recognize who I was anymore,” Reifschneider said. “It's crazy to think that these gas station pills just controlled me. I was ashamed because I'd rather people know I was shooting up heroin than actually spending all this time and money on over-the-counter (drugs).”

Tianeptine is prescribed as an antidepressant in some European, Asian and Latin American countries, but it’s not approved for any medical use in the U.S. Still, companies are marketing and selling tianeptine products as dietary supplements typically in pill and powder form, claiming it can improve brain function and treat depression, anxiety, pain and even opioid use disorder. 

Tianeptine has been banned in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Ohio and Tennessee.

Reifschneider used to take five pills every four hours, which she said gave her enough of a “warm, fuzzy buzz” without making her feel clammy or nauseous, similar to the effects of doing too much heroin, she said. The brand she purchased recommends two capsules daily “or as needed,” and advises against exceeding three capsules in a 24-hour period. 

She started to lose her hair and lots of weight; had auditory hallucinations; developed paranoia surrounding electronics, at times using 10 cellphones at once; and began to convince herself that she was “better off dead.” Reifschneider would even chat with gas station employees about how dangerous the pills were: “I was silently crying out for help.” 

After several unsuccessful stays in rehab, Reifschneider quit “cold turkey” and entered a withdrawal state for the next six months, which she said felt similar to but lasted longer than her withdrawal from heroin and fentanyl. Today, she continues to “feel like a 15-year-old in my brain,” alluding to her debilitating memory problems. “It’s one of my more shameful things,” she said.

Poison control cases involving tianeptine have increased nationwide, from 11 total cases between 2000 and 2013 to 151 cases in 2020, the FDA says. Many poison control calls often involve severe withdrawal symptoms, such as agitation, vomiting and diarrhea, because people typically consume higher doses than those prescribed in other countries, according to a 2018 CDC report.

Dr. Holly Geyer, an internal medicine physician specializing in addiction medicine with the Mayo Clinic, said fear of withdrawal and the depression that follows can contribute to addiction to a variety of substances. 

“These often aren't people who are chasing a high. They're just trying to feel normal, and if there's a drug out there that helps them curb that appetite, they're probably going to take it until it as a solution becomes the problem,” Geyer said. “These people are trapped biologically, mentally and spiritually. It's a horrible situation to be in, and I can tell you tianeptine does not let them out of it.” 

Shame and stigma prevail among addiction recovery circles 

Since Reifschneider joined social media to share her tianeptine experience, neighbors and friends have confided in her with their own struggles with the supplement. “It was a very dark secret we all kept in our recovery circle because it was so shameful,” she said. “We all felt better about ourselves because we weren’t doing the worst of the worst.”

Aaron Weiner, an addiction psychologist, says that mentality is “completely reasonable” considering the stigma and “traditionalism” that still weighs on drug use in general. “There’s a very intense mental health burden in this country right now,” he said.

Tianeptine is marketed as a supplement, but it’s really an opioid receptor agonist. That means it binds to the same receptors in the brain that heroin, fentanyl and other opioids do, causing similar euphoric and addictive effects by hijacking the body’s dopamine system. So when people use tianeptine amid their recovery journey to cope with withdrawal or other lingering effects, judgment frequently follows.

“In a lot of recovery circles, the goal is complete abstinence from all intoxicating substances,” Weiner said. “In this scenario, some people may assume they’re substituting one drug for another, and say they’re not really sober.”

Similar judgment occurs among those taking FDA-approved medications for opioid use disorder (MOUD), including methadone, buprenorphine and naltrexone — some of which are opioids themselves. Mounting evidence shows that they reduce opioid cravings and withdrawal symptoms, and block their euphoric effects, Weiner said, but don’t make people “high” or cause withdrawal when dosed properly. 

Although MOUD use has grown by more than 100% over the last decade, nearly 90% of people living with opioid use disorder are not receiving these medications, according to a 2022 study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy. Experts say stigma is partly to blame. 

“One of the greatest problems we have in this country is that of stigma; we label people, then throw them out with their diagnoses,” Geyer said. “So when many of them turn to MOUD, they experience equal amounts of stigma and are led to think that no one could yell at them or be offended if they use supplements like tianeptine that they think are safer.” 

"It kills me to know this is still out there"

Reifschneider said she visited a doctor who specializes in addiction medicine two times for help to detox from tianeptine, but neither attempt was successful.

“The doctor had no idea what these pills were, but he wanted to help me because he could see my desperation,” Reifschneider said. “I was terrified to come off of them alone, so I didn’t know what to do.” 

She ultimately detoxed herself, but this lack of awareness and access to proper treatment, Geyer said, is what deters people away from evidence-based treatment and attracts them to the illicit market.

Data show that nearly 50% of counties in the U.S., don’t have MOUD medication providers and 32% don’t have any specialty substance abuse treatment programs at all. 

“There's not a whole lot of attention paid to tianeptine because it’s one of many drugs that you could find at gas stations these days that are not technically outlawed but certainly not beneficial,” Geyer said. “The big name drugs out there like fentanyl is where the money has historically been in this industry, so that's where most treatment approaches have focused.”

After years of rehab, Reifschneider said she wants to lay low and just live a normal life, but knowing that tianeptine is still being sold on gas station shelves weighs on her.

“I'm honestly grateful that there's been more awareness, but it kills me to know this is still out there,” she said.

[countlessrealities]

@mcltiples sent:

Unfolded onto the workbench was a rolled out paper with doodles all over it. Some of the doodles depicted stick figure drawings of the four of them together, then separated, then of the Mortys together and then the Ricks together. Most importantly, showcasing the doodles of the four of them as Turkeys.

On the top of the blueprint wrote the words 'Operation: Get pardoned or die trying.' A little dramatic, but getting pardoned by the president was getting harder and harder each year.

"Alright, since l-last year went somewhat well, this year should be even better because we're taking you two with us," Rick pointed his squinted eyed glare in both of the Mortys direction. "A-As long as one of us o-or two of us get pardoned, then all of our crimes will be, wh-whatever the word I'm looking for is,"

Morty stood next to his counterpart, brows furrowed. "I-I think you mean forgiven, but uhm, h-how would that work? I-If only two of us or one of us gets pardoned, sh-shouldn't we all get, y-you know, pardoned?"

With a roll of his eyes, Rick stood up straight. "I-It works because we're all counterparts, so that means, i-if your boyfriend or my boyfriend just get pardoned, we're forgiven for our crimes too because their crimes are our crimes a-and vice versa."

"O-Other Rick, i-is that true?" Morty looked over at his counterpart's Rick.

And with that, Rick took two syringes, tossing one over to his boyfriend, before injecting himself and then grabbing his Morty's arm to give the other half of the serum. "Sh-Shut up and just stick to the plan."

{ To your Rick and Morty from my Rick and Morty // it's that time of year again where they turn into turkeys and act like idiots 😩 enjoy !! }

So, it was that time of the year again. The holiday was something Rick both found annoying and looked forward to. That whole turning-into-Turkeys ordeal was a pain in the ass, but it was definitely worth getting a clean slate, so they could stain it all over again through out the next year.

It was also to be said that, since he had started to share the task with his counterpart, it felt much less like a chore. It was a chance for them to have fun and spend time together. Not to mention that his boyfriend made everything better just by being there.

The two of them had stayed up all night coming up with their plan, and then they had forced the Mortys to review it over and over again for two hours. It was a little convoluted, perhaps a little unnecessarily so but to hell with it, so they had to make sure that the teens had everything understood and figured out. They couldn't have the little shits ruining their hard work just because they got confused or clumsy.

His other grandson question had Rick rolling his eyes, even more when the boy turned to him for confirmation after his counterpart had already answered it. Maybe they should have had a three hour long reviewing session.

"O-Of course it fucking is, Other Morty. D-Didn't you hear what Rick said? G-Geez, turn on your brain an-and stop being dumb," he scoffed, catching the syringe and administering the serum to himself. "I-If you can't, then yeah, j-just stick to the fuckin' plan an-and we'll all get granted...grace or whatever this time too."

With that, he grabbed his own Morty, by the collar, so that he could inject the teen too. The rough gesture earned him a surprised and irritated yelp, but he ignored it, just as he didn't react to the slap on the arm that followed. The little idiot was going through yet another rebellious phase and, this once, he had decided that he would have simply refused to deal with it, or even just acknowledge it.

"I-I think you mean 'amnesty', Rick," Morty grumbled with a scowl, rubbing the spot where the needle had been stabbed into his flesh. "An-And you could be nicer about this, b-both of you, since we're helping you with this...this thing."

He knew that it was wasted breath, but he lately had made a point of arguing whenever he could. Rick could ignore him all he wanted, but that wasn't going to shut him up.

His expression softened when he turned to look at his counterpart, offering a small smile and managing to squeeze his hand before the transformation began to take place. He was absolutely sure that things would have gone sideways, one way or another. They always did.

However, with his boyfriend there, it wouldn't have been so bad. Besides, they had the rest of the day to look forward to.

[bisexual-yuri]

Talent and Blessings Don’t Matter in the Hospital (Lessons from ECMC)

There is only so much process you can reasonably expect someone to do 

I feel like I’ve hit my limit

Shit’s got me feeling bored and stupid like the village idiot 

Need my creativity need a job 

I’m all full of all sort of needs to sort out this agony of idleness

They say it’s a kindness to myself to take so much time to myself but what do I do all by myself except circle a drain I don’t want to drain out of?

Can I take a plane or a train off this cliff of boredom without alarming me and everyone that loves me?

Still processing neuropathy and dark shit discussed in therapy 

Like the fact that the nurses sedated me against my will needlessly because they were scared of me 

Don’t care that they’re the real scary she’s, the real scary ones 

The ones keeping me locked away from the sun and the fan

It felt like nobody cared that the son of God sees all including patient abuse, including how if you scary enough they’ll take your fuckin’ shoes 

They don’t got a clue the trauma they causer with the drama and gel/powder painted claws, damaging psych mentality, my prayer is done so more it be

Amanda and JD, were they manic or just anxious?

Why did Corey have to take all this?

Why won’t Fawzi just get all the words out?

Why wouldn’t they just let Jaxem the fuck out?

People no danger to themselves or me

Still in lockup, docs give no fucks you see 

False profits and false prophets get out easy

Druggin’ the fun out of Aggie

You ain’t fun no more, that’s how you get free

Behavior in the health, good behavior in hell

And it doesn’t even come with Mercy

Quitting’ Cymbalta cold turkey

Can’t see color, can’t smell nothin’, feelin’ wonky

Temperature a mess, cold water on hot hands

No one cares to listen, no one really understands that big emotions are not themselves a disease

Drug’ll fuck your mind up till you can’t even see

I’m Eliza spitting’ rhymes now, not lies now, no I’m no fucking donkey

It’s a song but I wrote it in the wrong key

Singin’ red teeth, spitting truth through the nose bleed 

Now I got time to kill but no blood to spill

You can’t take anything further away from me

Robbed of all my autonomy, my work and my loves all a trifecta of purgatory

Abuse and sex crimes by blonde bitches who look at me and see witches

Plural

I’m just one person, big feelings on a fleshly mural 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done to me 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done period 

I’m deadly serious 

This shit needs to get a hard look at it 

A world full of angels seeking their halos and wings, instead get shot down with syringes and bans that take wedding rings 

No wedding ring for me, no wedding ring for Sarah not even a tattoo

In the hospital they treat you like a damn fool and then wonder why you behave any differently 

Sorry ECMC but the truth you saw in there ain’t the real me, it’s the me you brought out of me

It’s the eagle you carved out of a hummingbird that was trying to rest on a dead tree

I’m not a dead me, I’m just me, so why did you try killing me to make me whole again?

I’ll tell you doc, you have cost me all sorts of friends by locking me up in this shit 

Made some new ones too, but the anger and the loss are harder pills to swallow than anything you gave me in follow up

Divorce the PTSD, divorce from real me, you people never trusted me to take care of me

It’s scary

I know in a moment I had lost my mind, but damn is that license to be so fucking unkind? 

How am I supposed to find peace in the belly of the beast? 

How is anyone supposed to heal when you hit them hard with rules about what is and isn’t real?

Makes you wonder who’s the delusional one, the patients or the system

All I know is the needle toothed fucker takes everyone as a victim and doesn’t care if we scream or we cry

More fuel for the fire, more reasons to make people want to die to escape this

I know Al, you’re still here and you can’t take this 

Neither can I, knowing people suffer every day in this hellfire of some hospital’s fucked up design 

But what can I do, I’m just one person and I don’t even have a second shoe to drop because of what the hospital took from me 

I have a lot of friends, lot of family 

Most people ain’t so lucky

Screaming on the wind “why did you do this to me and him and her and them and everybody?”

I wish I knew an answer, I wish I had a better answer than just to scream

Maybe someday when I am healed I will have energy to dream of a better future for this

But for now, all I can do is sleep

[michaelsgavey]

twas the night before christmas - wayhaught drabble

a/n : okay.. first off, merry christmas! hope you all are having a wonderful holiday <3 this is the first time one of my works will be published here so why not make my first published work here a wayhaught drabble? but yeah i hope you all enjoy :)

------------------------

It was a chilly Christmas Eve, and Nicole and Waverly sat cozily by the crackling fireplace in their quaint home in Purgatory. The aroma of a delightful Christmas dinner lingered in the air, the remnants of a delicious meal they had just finished.

Nicole, with her warm eyes and a genuine smile, looked at Waverly, whose eyes sparkled with love and contentment. The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights illuminated the room, casting a magical ambiance. The two were eating turkey with mashed potatoes.

Waverly leaned in and whispered, "Nicole, this has been the perfect Christmas dinner. Thank you for making it so special."

Nicole grinned, "Anything for you. Christmas is our time, and I want it to be perfect every year."

The two women exchanged a tender kiss, the love between them evident in the quiet moments they shared. Outside, the snowfall painted the landscape in a pristine white, adding to the enchantment of the night.

After the tender kiss, Waverly looked at her wife. "Do you think Wynonna and Doc are having a wonderful night as well?"

"Oh definitely. They both deserve to spend the holiday with each other and Alice. I hope next year they all can return so we can spend the holidays together." Nicole responded.

She nods. She couldn't help but to admire her wife. She truly was a lucky woman. Both have been through so much and it was relieving that their love story wont end. Nicole meant a whole lot to Waverly and she'd do anything for her. And Nicole? She felt the same way.

Once the dinner was done and everything was clean, Waverly did their dishes. She had washed and put the dishes away before cleaning up her own hands.

Meanwhile, Nicole's eyes gleamed mischievously as she stood up and walked towards the vintage record player in the corner of the room. She carefully selected a vinyl record, the soft crackle filling the room as the needle dropped onto the spinning disc. The sweet melody of a classic Christmas song enveloped the cabin.

"Care for a dance, my love?" Nicole extended her hand to Waverly, who looked up at her with adoration.

Waverly beamed and took Nicole's hand, allowing herself to be led to the center of the room. The glow of the Christmas lights danced in Waverly's eyes as she looked into Nicole's, and the two women began to sway to the gentle rhythm of the music.

Nicole, with her confident yet graceful movements, guided Waverly through the simple dance. As they twirled and glided across the wooden floor, the room seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them in their own world.

Waverly couldn't help but admire Nicole's every move. The way her eyes sparkled with joy, the warmth of her smile, and the love that emanated from her being filled Waverly's heart with happiness. In that moment, the entire world faded away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the cabin and the enchantment of the Christmas music.

"You're a wonderful dancer, Nicole," Waverly whispered, her eyes locked onto Nicole's.

Nicole grinned, "Well, I have the best dance partner in the world. That's what makes it easy."

As the song reached its conclusion, Nicole pulled Waverly into a gentle spin before ending the dance with a soft, lingering kiss. The crackling fire, the twinkling lights, and the melody of the Christmas song created a magical atmosphere, wrapping the couple in the warmth of their love.

Waverly sighed contentedly, "Thank you for making this Christmas so perfect, Nicole. I love you."

Nicole whispered back, "I love you too, Waverly. Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife."

Just as Nicole and Waverly were catching their breath after their dance, the cabin door creaked open. A familiar voice echoed through the room, "Well, well, what do we have here? Am I interrupting something, or is this just a typical Earp Christmas Eve?"

Wynonna, Waverly's sister, stood in the doorway with a sly grin on her face. Her trademark smirk softened into a genuine smile as she saw the love between Nicole and Waverly.

"Sorry to barge in, ladies. Hope I'm not ruining the mistletoe magic. Just wanted to surprise you all," Wynonna quipped, stepping into the cabin. Doc , Jeremy , Rachel and Alice followed after her.

Waverly chuckled, "You know you're always welcome, Wynonna. It's not Christmas Eve without you making an entrance."

Wynonna winked, "Well, I aim to please."

Nicole, still holding Waverly close, grinned at Wynonna, "All of you care for a plate?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure we won't be crashing your romantic session?"

Waverly nudged her sister playfully, "Nonsense! You're family. Besides, we have enough food to feed an army."

As the all of them gathered around the table, Nicole dished out servings of the delicious Christmas feast onto plates. Their cozy home became filled with laughter and the warmth of shared stories.

------------------

End.

[the-strange-world-of-jplovecraft]

Salt Peter written by JPLOVECRAFT

“Old man’s ass…”

Opening lyric to “Parafin” by Ruby

He used to come into my room at night. I was 11, maybe 12 years old. We had just moved into this old house. Being that we had always lived in apartments I was excited to finally live in a house with a yard and plenty of room for everyone. It was old though and creepy. The feeling of the place was just odd, offputting, strange…

Things were normal

in the house for a few weeks. It was creepy but, I mean, I read all sorts of goosebumps books and watched Are You Afraid of the Dark on the weekends so I figured my imagination was giving me a free show. I liked being creeped out to a point, ya know, when I could control it… it hit different when it was happening in real life.

It all began one night after I got a really strange feeling coming from the laundry room. The laundry room being the basement. Typical, right?! Every scary story starts in a basement, or a desecrated church, or at a summer camp full of intoxicated counselors, or a Dennys at 3am…

I was pulling my clothes out of the dryer when a vision popped in my head. It was sudden, blurry, strange, wrinkled… hairy…? Mashed potatoes? Two adjacent piles of crumpled up laundry? A pair of pine needle covered volcanoes set to erupt? I know, it’s weird. Milk colored jello? It was a vision that held no context for me, it chilled me, it was ominous, it beckoned…

I hurriedly grabbed my clothes and ran upstairs. It was strange, as I ran I swore I heard someone whispering to me, a single word in repetition, four syllables: “California…? Supercalafragilistic…? London bridges…?”

Nonsense.

That night was the first time he came into my room.

Where I lived with my parents was pretty isolated. No one around but us really. I was half asleep in my bed. I knew my parents were already asleep so I went into a mild shock when my bedroom door knob began to slowly turn. It felt like I was asleep, half asleep, sleep paralysis maybe, it was dreamlike. Time seemed to pass at a fraction of its normal flow. The knob turned slowly. Then the door moved. It opened slightly, with a creak, just a crack. Seconds went by, my heart was in my throat, I was paralyzed. The door opened a bit more, then a bit more, then just wide enough for a spindly leg to pass through. All I could see at that point was a leg but I knew that leg didn’t belong to anyone that I knew. The leg danced a bit, seemingly waiving, almost as if it were underwater. Then a hip revealed itself, then an arm, then a face.

It was an old man. He looked almost like a cartoon, a caricature. No teeth, full cheeks, grey stubble, wide eyes. He was impish. He was giggling.

He stared at me with a strange sense of delight.

Slowly he crept toward the side of my bed as if he was starring in a mock ballet. His eyes twinkled. He was hilarious. He was terrifying.

He stood next to my bed and stared at me, grinning, vibrating. He bent down a bit as if to inspect me closer. He seemed very satisfied with what he saw. He straightened back up and dare I say, gave a little shimmy.

He then headed back towards the door, walking backwards, slowly, rhythmically. He seemed to be mouthing out the word I heard while running away from the dryer with my clothes earlier that evening. When his back was to the door he clearly whispered: “not yet.” Then he giggled once more and disappeared behind my bedroom door. I have no idea how I got back to sleep that night.

When I woke up it all seemed so silly. It was obviously a strange dream. Kooky, not at all scary in retrospect. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me. Yeah, food was definitely messing with me… haha.

I had this dream intermittently for the next few years… It had to be a dream, it was so ridiculous. I chalked it up to watching too much Ren and Stimpy on Saturday nights. The dancing geezer looked a lot like the old guy that always ended up in the bathtub, making ren and stimpson j cat uncomfortable, the one with the turkey leg floating over his head like it was his hair… way to ridiculous to be real… my imagination was a strange land full of strange plans. That’s probably why I ended up going to art school, droppping out and diving head first into years of classes on centuries old strange legends and symbology.

The dreams stopped after I left home and that strange little town to pursue my complicated education… only resurfacing when I would go home to visit for holidays and such. At that point it was like seeing an old friend. Not ominous, just quirky and strangely comforting.

He would always sneak in my room, slowly, dramatically, with a shimmy and a shake, seemingly choreographed, smiling, giddy, giggling, slowly making his way over to my bedside to inspect me… strange, I had no idea what he was looking for, he seemed to be keeping track of something… biding his time, waiting… on the way out always stating ambiguously “not yet… not yet…”

Oh… and occasionally when I would go down to the basement to do laundry I would hear those strange whispers… or at least what my imagination must have made out of a creaky old basement in an old house, with random drafts, leaky pipes and random noise from settling. Yeah… my imagination was quite the large, festive tent housing a constant circus… haha… welcome back my friends to the show that never ends.

Things got a bit more strange when my parents both died in a car accident, leaving the house to me. It was so sudden, emotional. I found myself heading back to that strange old town and isolated ancient house to settle the estate and continue work on a book I was writing about obscure symbology.

I hadn’t been back in quite a while, perhaps it was the suddenness of the death, the complex emotions, the fact that I was older. The place seemed stranger than usual, smaller, darker… it may sound strange but… it seemed alive, like it had been waiting for me, like it was most happy to see me. I felt watched… my imagination was creating those old whispers again… somehow, this time a bit more clear… fallah smidgen…? Surreptitious…? Cala midgets…?

Oh… my weird little mind.

(Over dub whispers: callipygous)

The first couple of nights were quite quiet. I established my ritual. Organize and clean during the day, go for a nice walk, have a sensible dinner, open a bottle of wine and settle in for a few hours at night to research and write. I quickly found that this old town had quite a library, lots of old and obscure volumes strangely enough along the lines of my culty interests… old towns can be interesting… I was finding way more forgotten information and lore in the library than was available on the super patchy internet available at the house. Although I was grieving the loss of my parents I was also appreciative of the quiet and the resources afforded to me at this critical time. This book was to be my gateway to notoriety and possibly the chance to teach my own courses at the right college or university.

Then the dreams started again…

This time though… they seemed to go, further? They would start the same, my bedroom door would creak open, the strange old geezer would catastrophe ballet to my bedside to inspect me but… the dreams were getting longer, strange music began to manifest and those whispers were getting louder. Soon the old guy was dancing circles around the room and seeming to occasionally, taunt me with his ass… which was surprisingly round and dare I say… firm. It was strange that his entire body looked like cold mashed potatoes except for him bum, which was, well, it was nice. Thumbs up dude, keep doing those squats. Then one night after completing his evolving ritual he stopped short at the door on his way out and instead of saying “not yet” as was his normal conclusion he looked at me intensely and mouthed out the word “soon.”

I woke up laughing even though I was also a bit chilled. A wrinkly old dancing man that looked like the ren and Stimpy chicken leg for hair guy with a nice ass… oh my prurient imagination, the circus was most definitely in full swing.

The nights went on and the dreams progressed and became more vivid and… well… the term that comes to mind is “clown orgy…” Do you know about the clown orgy, it was fucking in tents… get it, that’s an old joke but the dreams were most definitely growing more and more intense, then one night…

One night I was able to move. In every dream up to that point I was paralyzed or never thought to move but one night… he invited me to dance with him… and I did, we frolicked and shook our groove thangs… He seemed to be checking out my rear the whole time, cheeky old guy… then he motioned me to follow him, out of the room, down the hall, we danced the whole way downstairs to the basement. The whispers surrounded us as we danced and laughed then he darted towards the corner of the basement and disappeared behind the dryer. What the hell? I ran towards the dryer, looked inside, nothing, then I pulled it away from the wall and… there was something carved into the cement…

I woke up on the basement floor, naked, holding an empty bottle of wine. Perhaps I had been indulging a bit too much during my research. I got up, no hangover though I was a bit wobbly and proceeded to shower and get on with my day.

As I boxed up the materials that comprised the lives of my late parents I couldn’t shake the dream, the dancing, the basement, the carvings behind the dryer. It was just a weird dream driven by my wild imagination but still, I couldn’t stop obsessing over it. I had the strangest urge to look behind the dryer in the basement. I couldn’t let it go. Of course there was nothing there but I couldn’t put it out of my mind. After hours of wrestling with reality and common sense I resolved that I wouldn’t be able to rest until I looked behind the dryer.

I ventured down the hallway in a haze and descended the staircase heading straight for the dryer. It moved way too easily and gawddammit. There were carvings on the wall. They looked like runes, circling a crude drawing of, hills, mountains, quite round and strangely from a seemingly overhead perspective. They were symmetrical and minimal and looked to be old.

I took a picture with my cell phone and immediately headed for the library to check out some books on runes. The runes on my basement wall were not common at all, they looked to be variations on established runes, custom if you will. My research was proving to be fruitless until I flipped to the back of a certain volume and found those precise runes hand sketched on the inside back cover along with an etymology of their evolution and a translation: Callipygian. Sect. Order. Worship. Deity. Possession. Sacrifice.

Strange. I knew all the words except for Callipygian. Who wrote this weirdness? I flipped through the volume again finally noticing that the book had only been checked out by one person, years ago. A man by the name of Aloysius Breech.

I went to the front desk and flagged down the quite elderly librarian.

“Pardon me miss, do you know this person, Aloysius Breech?”

The librarian looked puzzled at first, then, as librarians do, seemed to recall something in the archives. She led me to a back room with stacks of archived local newspapers and documents. She said the name was familiar but couldn’t recall why and that I might have some luck in the local archives.

Wow, this was definitely old school research which of course meant that I didn’t get a lead for a few hours but when I did… whoa.

A newspaper article from the local paper, September 24th, 1949: Local man responsible for child abduction and murder. There was a picture, oh god, of course it was the man from my dreams, this was straight out of Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of the Dark. Seems this guy was responsible for a bunch of missing children in the late 1940s. He would crawl in through their bedroom windows at night, giggling, dancing and leading them to their doom. The police found him and the remains of his victims in his basement at… of course… his house was now my house. The basement was covered in strange markings and crude pictures of hills and mountains, from an overhead view. When questioned, Breech nonchalantly disclosed that he was collecting souls in order to deify himself in the Callipygian court. An obscure ancient religious sect that worshipped an all powerful deity whose defining feature was extremely shapely buttocks. He also stated that he had collected enough souls, all that was left to do was choose a successor to start the next cycle, someone to keep the souls coming and maintain the power of the sect.

Breech was tried, convicted and executed in the early 1950s for the abduction and deaths of supposedly dozens of children from the surrounding areas. After his death, the house was slightly remodeled and remained on the market for quite some time, decades until, shit, until my parents bought it for a song. They never told me the history of the house. Probably didn’t want to frighten me. At least we didn’t have to live in crummy apartments anymore.

I ran home and went back to the carvings behind the dryer in the basement. How were these still here if the rest were cleaned up? I began searching the rest of the basement and wherever I pulled an appliance, a shelving unit, anything of size away from the walls I found runes, hills from overhead, occasionally what looked like dried blood. Good lord.

Whomever was in charge of cleaning up this place cut quite a few corners. Too bad I wasn’t a horror writer, this story was writing itself.

Suddenly I felt dizzy. The sun seemed to go down insanely fast like life was in fast forward. I slumped to the ground barely able to sit up. The whispers started again, the strange music and then, from behind the dryer came the dancing man. This time incredibly giddy. He was ecstatic in his movements. He danced over to me, looked down upon me and said “it’s finally time.”

“Time for what?” I asked.

“Time to appoint my successor.” He exclaimed while twirling around in a circle.

“I’ve waited for decades for the right person to come along. After my execution my soul became trapped in this house, waiting for the right person to come along and take my place, setting me free to be the deity that I long to be. No one would live here until your parents moved to town and brought you. I kept my eye on you, waiting for the right moment but you moved away, decades passed once again and Lo and behold, you came back! Now it is finally time. The transition will be complete upon you doing just one thing.”

“What’s that?” My voice quivered.

He beamed: “Touch my round bottom, ha haha…”

He turned around and jiggled his ample bottom in front of me. I tried to look away but I was so weak and my body seemed to be functioning independently of me. I wanted to resist but my hand wouldn’t heed my commands. Slowly my hand raised and traveled towards the freaky old man’s jiggling cheeks. Just as I was about to touch them he stopped jiggling. His cheeks opened up and clamped down upon my hand. Holy shit what a grip. I couldn’t break free. The whispers became shouts then screams: callipygous! callipygous! callipygous!

The man dragged me by my hand towards the dryer. I pleaded and cried but to no avail as he pulled me into the wall and then everything went black.

I don’t know how long ago that was. I know that I’m trapped in this house. I haven’t seen another soul for what seems like quite a long time. I’ve heard some people rustling around outside for the past couple of days, talking about flipping the house for a nice price, something about a young family wanting to move in. A family with a young child.

I’ve been working on my dance moves and my backside has grown quite firm. If I’m stuck in this existence I might as well become a deity… bring on the new tenants. callipygous! callipygous! callipygous!

Listen to audiobook

[howdytherepardner]

feelings within

in which one goes nowhere, a lot of places, fast

~

1. there is a sensation in the body when there are needles in major veins in both of one’s arms (if applicable).

it might be easy, or even natural, to expect that this is pain of a certain degree. i imagine the visual, splayed out and propped up like a turkey pre-roast and subbing an oven thermometer for tubes constantly pulling out and pushing in blood via a machine of constant whirs, is largely disquieting for some. the fear of just one needle is enough for some folks to swear off blood donations period and to dissuade from more than a few medical procedures. i’ve never been too avoidant of the situation, being Weird enough to relish the chance to look at the needle embrace the sensation as it washes over.

but having one in both arms is a new experience for me, and with it new that a new discovery. an arm must remain still when the needle is in, and when both are occupied, both must be still. i can’t say what it’s like to lose a limb, but it did make me think of a reversal of the common trope with tools as ‘an extension of the self.’

2. it would not be a stretch to say that the Smart Phone (or a connection to the internet) is very much a tool that becomes a part of us in such a way that the Severing is felt. my little refurbished friend will tend to die when i even think of using the camera in extreme temperatures; a loss when out-and-about creates a particular sense of disturbance, despite knowing that It in many ways is a disturbance.

but i digress. the jump between one arm and none arm is much larger than two to one, which was made somewhat evident by my choice of music as an intended pass time for the two hours. i was listening with wireless earbuds, and while the staff member attending was very gracious to manually insert the left one after i was already still, it was not all the way in - hanging off the pinna, rather than covering the canal entrance. much to consider beyond just the asymmetry of music, but my own hesitance to ask for it to be readjusted. like when waitstaff asks if the food’s alright, and you say that it’s Perfect, despite the fact that it’s not what you wanted (and probably isn’t the best food in the world).

3. I do wonder about that sometimes. It’s the meme that I see sometime, the girl requesting a correction on behalf of her boyfriend (the Daisy/Luigi “he asked for no pickles” remains a standout). I’m sure there’s that element of timidness, with whatever socio/psychological basis that informs it, but I also do think there’s an element of exploration, tolerance, and/or contentedness.

i did ask eventually, encouraging a staff member to not worry about applying pressure. sealed in, the waiting i expected began.

Set the scene a little more. The space is a blend of hospital and office vibes, with cubicle-esque desks on the east end of the open room, with surfaces for donors in the west. Some more simple surfaces for the standard blood donors in the middle, but west most was two rows of the more intricate set-ups. Seats facing each other (my eyes occasionally made contact with others, but only briefly), with the massive blood processing doohicky right next to them. The seats have a screen installed, with Netflix as an option recommended. Another screen on the doohicky, monitoring things like input/output pressure, blood iron content, and importantly for the experience - an estimated time remaining and a progress bar.

4. where a high fantasy element lacks literal verbal incantation, i always found it interesting to consider what it is that actually causes the magic shit to happen. avatar characters can execute bending forms without needing to actually manipulate things everytime, so what kind of ‘switch’ do they need to flip? the idea of there being some muscle-flex or mentality that allows one to opt in and out of this more freely manipulating state was always funny to ponder.

anyways, my actual time was about 5 minutes longer than my estimate at the start. i would chalk it up to less-than-optimal hydration the 24 hours prior, but in the moment with the stress ball in hand, i really believed that if i found the perfect rhythm of squeezing or breath depth and interval, that it could slice the time into nothing. some of the timing was the machine of course, presumably determined to not take my own life, but the timing Disparity is enough for me to believe that some onus was on me. reaching for straws that slipped through my fingers.

5. that said, i think the attending staff were sure to let me know that i was “almost there.” 10 minutes out, 25 minutes out, a full hour out, just under half of the way. it was this really strange thing, and i imagine medical professionals have to negotiate something a lot with how they provide comfort. since the machine would not deprive me of life after the fact, and presumably low chances of complications (the only qualifier being a minimum blood iron content, weight, and pulse), the choice to offer reassurances is not loaded with many ethical considerations.

it would have been my preference though to just have been left alone, savoring my music over the long course like i preferred - but of course, they upheld a standard of decency and care to check on me. how dare they ask if i wanted a blanket? how insulting, to make sure i was really okay without Netflix for the time! must i not have even a moment to savor any sense of discomfort?

6. because i probably would have been more comfortable if i did have a blanket covering my short sleeved self, the subtle a/c and grey skies outside enough to have a chill walk, but not run, down my spine. i didn’t feel strongly cold, but enough to notice that the blood seemed absent.

unburdened by the bounds of the vein, my self had expanded to share rent with a machine (and my platelets later, i certainly expect, well beyond the confines of the room). seldom do i get to try density like that, and indeed, one feels just a bit closer to being as light as air. it takes a second to get to that subtle high, and with the sensation grounded by the truth of cold and stillness, one recognizes the elation as something realer than a dream.

it made the music that much better. a playlist of old favorites and nothing else to do let the reflection and the feelings and memories from those days come rolling right back.

7. the little sense of pain, then, to know those days as things to remember, and not to be.

8. and roku city scrolling by right through it all. a placeholder, not made to be known or noticed for more than a few moments, known upside down and backwards, all its film references decoded before even halfway.

9. and after it’s done, and the utility of arms, motion, autonomy return, the body maintain a stony sense of numbness. and the little packet of cheez its are never quite as salty, savory as the first time.

10. oh well. the promise of a free t-shirt ft. Joe Cool seems to mean something.

[nfumbewalk]

All Days Are Grey

Six years ago. Looked younger. And thinner. Egads, fresh outta jail.

Gloomy Sunday here in Oregon. Typical Winter day. This is a non-occult post.

Drugs

Zipping around too much? Yes. "High-tied, wide eyed, sped on adrenochrome." - Sisters of Mercy. Ha! Indeed! I like my speed but only the pharmaceutical kind. No dirty street crap. Love to try some purp adrenochrome tho. Cocaine was another story. I wasn't fond of coke. It made me super duper relaxed, I felt like a wet rag. I just had seen Scarface for the first time and was inspired. Boy was I disappointed!😂 I just sat like a lump and watched a documentary about jumpers on the Bay bridge in Cali.

Anyhoo! Drugs, don't let yourself go - stay healthy. Don't drink booze. Have weed instead. Way less harmful and your liver will thank you. You don't have to smoke weed, eat it. Edibles have a better, longer lasting high. Or try RSO aka hemp oil. I'm a big marijuana advocate. Its been legal in Oregon for a long time. Sorry. It is the only drug that helps my pain. It works better than opiates. Ladies with cramps - try it, works excellent, for me anyways. I use it monthly, 2 to 3 candy bars. Not cheap but worth it! Try a indica or hybrid.

Have to say that I'm against opiates too. Took them for years - Morphine and Oxycontin for cervicogenic headaches and injured C2 and C3. Bad drugs make you do bad shit to everyone and everything. They change your personality without you realizing it. I got off of these drugs - cold turkey with no withdrawal. I wasn't addicted. But thank God for acupuncture! It saved my life! No more pain!! I'm so different now. I don't even like getting Norco from the dentist. Downers are the pits. Speed is the way to go.

Next!

Don't really know what just inspired my drug rant. Prolly cos I'm on speed. Lol! Bad huh? I'm not on things much. Here and there. Hubby and I like to have a little fun to wipe out our monotony. At least we don't sniff, smoke, or inject shit like some dummies. The oral route works fine.

This makes me look terrible but I'm just honest. I never had any drugs or booze when I was a kid. I was married to a stiffy who never liked to be inebriated and have fun. Such a world class bore. I guess I'm really too old now but I care not. I have health risks like hypertension but I monitor myself and my two medications seem to work well enough to keep my numbers down. Being awake too long affects my emotional lability but I just fucking deal because we have too much indulgent fun with each other. 😘

Pls don't judge too harshly. My life has been an uphill battle for 25 years. I found my son's birth records and they are atrocious. I was 42 2/7 weeks when I was induced into labor. They estimated incorrectly. We found out that there was hardly any amniotic fluid left. My labor with him was also 42 hours. A bit more than 24 hours with no drugs for pain. The horrendous part were the two failed epidurals that were very spotty with numbness. I was injured by them and today, my left upper thigh has numbness, itching and needle prick shock pains that I experience at random. I also have these pricking pains on the fourth toes on both feet. The anesthesiologist injured my spine. I experienced numbness the day after my son Aleister was born. The records have a drawing by the doctor but I cannot make out his handwriting. I'm starting to get more neurological symptoms.

I can't go through and write all the mental effects I suffered from, but Aleister's birth made me dissociate. Its in the records that I have "missing pieces." Yep. The circumstances of his birth broke me, but I'd never blame him. The problem was that I had a midwife. I should have had an OB and a c-section. I had preeclampsia and my body was just too small for natural childbirth. My mom was the same size, but taller. I'm 4'9" and my hips are very narrow. She had two c-sections. Her OB said no way to a natural birth.

Aleister ended up in fetal distress. When born, they had to resuscitate him. His Apgars were very poor and I didn't get to hold him like most moms hold their baby. He was placed in the NICU for a week. It was very difficult to feed him at first because the magnesium sulfate made him very loopy and disinterested. Once he took 2 Oz of formula, we got to take him home. Aleister was a very good baby. He hardly fussed. He walked at 9 months. He's turning 25 next March.

I don't know why I talked drugs and my son. Just thinking. Hope this is interesting somewhat. Its just random ass memories.

M.M. 💖💀💖

[dadjokestop]

Get ready to spread some holiday cheer with these jokes about Christmas! Christmas is a time for joy, laughter, and, of course, a good sense of humor. Whether you're sharing them at family gatherings or sending them in holiday cards, these jokes are sure to bring a smile to everyone’s face! 1. What do you call an elf who sings? A “wrapper”! 2. Why was the snowman looking through the carrots? He was picking his nose! 3. What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire? Frostbite! 4. Why did Santa go to music school? Because he wanted to improve his “wrap” skills! 5. What do you call Santa when he takes a break? Santa Pause! 6. What’s every elf’s favorite type of music? Wrap music! 7. Why did the Christmas tree go to the barber? It needed to get a “trim”! 8. What do you get if you eat Christmas decorations? Tinselitis! 9. Why don’t you ever see Santa in the hospital? Because he has private elf care! 10. What did one Christmas ornament say to another? “Shall we go for a spin?” 11. Why was the Christmas cookie sad? Because it felt crumby! 12. What do you call a cat on the beach during Christmas? Sandy Claws! 13. Why did the gingerbread man go to school? Because he wanted to be a smart cookie! 14. What’s the best thing to put into a Christmas cookie? Your teeth! 15. What do you call a reindeer with bad manners? Rude-olph! 16. Why did the turkey join a band? Because it had the drumsticks! 17. What’s the most popular Christmas wine? “I don’t like Brussels sprouts!” 18. Why did Santa get a parking ticket? He left his sleigh in a snow zone! 19. What’s a Christmas tree’s favorite candy? Orna-mints! 20. What do you call a snowman with a six-pack? An abdominal snowman! 21. Why are Christmas trees so bad at knitting? Because they always drop their needles! 22. What’s Santa’s favorite type of music? North Pole music! 23. What did the snowman say to the other snowman? “Do you smell carrots?” 24. Why did the elf take a nap? Because he was “elf”-ing tired! 25. What do you call a snowman’s dog? A slush puppy! 26. What do elves learn in school? The “elf”-abet! 27. What do you get if you cross a bell with a skunk? Jingle smells! 28. Why did the Christmas lights break up? They found someone brighter! 29. What do you call a dog that helps with Christmas? Santa Paws! 30. What did the Christmas stocking say to the other stocking? “Hanging out is just our ‘sole’ purpose!” Conclusion These jokes about Christmas are sure to add a touch of laughter to your holiday celebrations. Whether you’re enjoying a festive meal or exchanging gifts, these jokes will lighten the mood and bring everyone together. Share them generously, and let the holiday spirit shine through!

[embroidery-pro]

Trending Embroidery Styles You Need to Try This Season

Trending Embroidery Styles You Need to Try This Season

Embroidery has come a long way from its traditional roots, evolving into a versatile and expressive art form. Whether you're a seasoned stitcher or a curious beginner, this season's embroidery trends offer something for everyone. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the hottest embroidery styles that are taking the crafting world by storm. Get ready to be inspired and elevate your stitching game with these must-try techniques! - Modern Minimalism: Less is More The minimalist movement has made its way into the world of embroidery, and it's here to stay. This trend focuses on clean lines, simple shapes, and a limited color palette. The result? Stunning pieces that make a big impact with minimal effort. Key features of modern minimalist embroidery: - Single line designs - Negative space utilization - Monochromatic color schemes - Geometric patterns To try this trend, start with a simple outline of a face or object using a single continuous line. Choose a neutral-colored fabric and thread to keep the focus on your design. Remember, the beauty of minimalist embroidery lies in its simplicity, so resist the urge to overcomplicate your piece. - Bold and Beautiful Florals Floral embroidery has been a staple for centuries, but this season's trend takes it to new heights. Gone are the days of delicate, muted blooms – it's time to embrace bold, vibrant flowers that demand attention. How to nail the bold floral trend: - Choose bright, contrasting colors - Experiment with oversized blooms - Mix different flower types and sizes - Incorporate textured stitches for added depth Try creating a statement piece by embroidering a large, colorful flower on a dark background. Use a variety of stitches like French knots, satin stitch, and long and short stitch to add texture and dimension to your petals and leaves. - Geometric Patterns: Shapes and Symmetry Geometric embroidery is having a moment, and it's easy to see why. This trend combines the precision of mathematics with the creativity of needlework, resulting in eye-catching designs that are both modern and timeless. Popular geometric embroidery styles: - Mandala patterns - Honeycomb and hexagon designs - Optical illusions - Abstract shapes and forms To get started with geometric embroidery, try creating a simple mandala design. Begin with a central point and work your way outward, adding concentric circles and repeating patterns. Use a ruler or template to ensure your lines are straight and your shapes are symmetrical. - Textured Embroidery: A Feast for the Senses This season, embroidery isn't just about what you see – it's about what you feel. Textured embroidery adds a tactile element to your work, creating pieces that beg to be touched and admired up close. Techniques for adding texture to your embroidery: - Turkey work (also known as ghiordes knot) - Bullion knots - Couching - Needle felting combined with embroidery Experiment with different textures by creating a landscape piece. Use turkey work for fluffy clouds or sheep, bullion knots for grass or flower stems, and couching for tree branches or rivers. - Sustainable and Eco-Friendly Embroidery As sustainability becomes increasingly important in all aspects of our lives, it's no surprise that eco-friendly embroidery is trending. This style focuses on using sustainable materials and upcycling techniques to create beautiful, environmentally conscious art. Ways to make your embroidery more sustainable: - Use organic or recycled fabrics and threads - Repurpose old clothing or linens as your canvas - Create embroidered patches to mend and personalize clothing - Opt for natural dyes for your threads and fabrics Try embroidering a design on an old denim jacket or tote bag to give it new life. Not only will you create a unique piece, but you'll also be reducing waste and promoting sustainable fashion. - Words and Typography Embroidered words and quotes have gained popularity on social media, and for good reason. This trend allows you to combine your love of stitching with meaningful messages or playful phrases. Tips for perfecting typography embroidery: - Experiment with different fonts and lettering styles - Use back stitch for thin lines and satin stitch for thicker letters - Play with color gradients within your letters - Combine words with simple illustrations for added impact Choose a favorite quote or a single powerful word to embroider. Practice your lettering on paper first, then transfer it to your fabric using a water-soluble pen or transfer paper. - Mixed Media Embroidery Why limit yourself to just thread and fabric? Mixed media embroidery incorporates various materials and techniques to create truly unique pieces. Materials to experiment with in mixed media embroidery: - Beads and sequins - Ribbons and lace - Fabric paint or watercolors - Found objects like buttons or small charms Create a mixed media piece by combining traditional embroidery stitches with beadwork and ribbon embroidery. Add painted elements or collage pieces to your background fabric before or after stitching for an extra layer of interest. - Photorealistic Embroidery For those looking to challenge their skills, photorealistic embroidery is a trend that's sure to impress. This style aims to recreate photographs or lifelike images using thread and needle. Techniques for achieving photorealistic embroidery: - Long and short stitch for smooth color blending - Thread painting for fine details - Strategic use of negative space - Careful color selection and shading Start small with a simple portrait or still life. Use a reference photo and pay close attention to light and shadow. This style requires patience and practice, but the results are truly stunning. - Embroidery on Unexpected Surfaces Who says embroidery has to be limited to fabric? This trend explores stitching on unconventional materials, pushing the boundaries of traditional embroidery. Unique surfaces to try embroidering on: - Wood (using pre-drilled holes) - Leather or faux leather - Plastic or vinyl - Metal mesh Experiment with embroidering a simple design on a wooden hoop or creating a leather cuff bracelet adorned with colorful stitches. Just be sure to use the appropriate needles and threads for your chosen surface. - Miniature Embroidery Good things come in small packages, and miniature embroidery is no exception. This trend focuses on creating tiny, intricate designs that pack a big punch in a small space. Tips for mastering miniature embroidery: - Use a small hoop or frame for better control - Opt for fine threads and needles - Employ simple stitches like back stitch and French knots - Use a magnifying glass or light for precision Try creating a series of tiny embroidered landscapes or portraits, each no larger than a coin. These make for charming pendants or framed art pieces that showcase your attention to detail. Conclusion As you can see, the world of embroidery is brimming with exciting trends and techniques to explore this season. Whether you're drawn to the clean lines of modern minimalism, the bold statement of oversized florals, or the challenge of photorealistic stitching, there's a style out there waiting for you to make it your own. Remember, the key to mastering any new embroidery trend is practice and patience. Don't be afraid to experiment, make mistakes, and develop your unique twist on these popular styles. With each stitch, you'll be honing your skills and contributing to the rich tapestry of this ever-evolving art form. So, grab your hoop, thread your needle, and dive into the wonderful world of contemporary embroidery. Your next masterpiece awaits! Read the full article

[therabidjackalope]

Bottom Of The Bottle

Oliver Mills shivered and tugged his tattered coat a little tighter around himself. The worn material did little to increase his warmth against growing chill. It warned of the coming of a harsh Winter. Oliver hated Winter in the city. Why couldn't he have found himself homeless somewhere warm, like Florida or California?

Bitterly, he kicked an old rusty can in his path and listened to it's rattling protest while it tumbled down the littered asphalt. More cans were strewn across the old street, along with used needles, crumpled papers, and other detritus that seemed to gather in the abandoned corners of the world where humans resided.

Oliver often felt a kinship with the trash. He too was abandoned and unwanted, left to collect with the other undesirables in dark and abandoned places out of the sight of more civilized folks. If they couldn't see him then he didn't exist and couldn't disturb their perfect little lives. That was how it worked, right?

He gave a derisive snort. He'd been one of those so-called civilized people not so long ago. He had a great job, his hot young wife had been the envy of all his friends and co-workers, he had a big house and three children and one more on the way. The American dream. And it had been his. Life had been perfect.

And then that sniveling little prick had come sniffing around, sticking his nose in everything and messing it all up. What was his name? Hobson? Dodson? It could be Dickweed for all Oliver cared. So what if he had been embezzling a little from the company? It was HIS company! And it wasn't like he took much! He just skimmed a little here and there. And only when he needed it. He never got greedy.

Braces for little Becky, a boob job for Tonia, a little coke here and there when he needed it. He sure could use a little bump now. The cheap booze, when he could get a hold of it, took some of the edge off, but it tasted like battery acid and often left him feeling worse than before he drank it. Not that he ever let that stop him. Although he was far too sober at that moment for his liking.

Suddenly, his attention was caught by a small flash. One of the piss-yellow street lamps reflected off of something off to his left. Chances are it was just some empty booze bottle, but for some reason, he felt compelled to investigate. His pity party momentarily forgotten, he made his way closer to where the strange glint had been.

At first he failed to see anything amongst the scraggly patches of grass, broken pieces of glass, and crumbled beer cans. A passing breeze rippled an old sheet of newspaper like the wiggling butt of a stalking kitten before it stilled once again. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm cried out it's warning before being abruptly silenced. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Oliver was just about to give up when he suddenly spied it. Half-buried in the dirt lay the tapered neck of some kind of exotic looking bottle. It was a deep purple color of opaque glass with what looked to be gemstones encircling the rim. Chances are it was some over-priced wine bottle, but Oliver stepped closer and decided to go ahead and fetch it, just in case it was worth something. Maybe worth as much as a bottle of Wild Turkey.

Carefully he grabbed and tugged at the bottle, which came out of the ground easily. He then began wiping off the coating of moist dirt that clung to it, exposing more colorful gemstones hidden beneath it. The bottle had to be some sort of weird antique or something. That should bring in a pretty penny to someone. Might even get him something decent to drink for a change.

As he gave the bottle another good swipe, it suddenly began to vibrate in his hands. He cried out and nearly dropped it in his surprise. Only the promise of booze kept his fingers clenched tightly around his prize.

It was fear that fused his hands around the bottle when a strange blue smoke began pouring out of the tip, gathering in a menacing cloud high above his head. Oliver opened his mouth to scream, but his voice was too afraid to leave the safety of his throat. He felt as if his entire body had been transformed into lead, and all he could do was stand still and watch his fate unfold in front of him.

The cloud continued to swell, until it finally began to swirl slowly into itself, forming into some kind of shape Oliver could not immediately make out. Familiar features began to take shape within the cloud, a man's bare chest, long powerful arms, a head, and was that a face? As he watches, the cloud transformed itself into the torso of a blue-skinned man, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed with eyes closed. Below his waist, he remained nothing but a tether of blue smoke leading to the bottle's mouth.

“What the hell!” He finally managed to exclaim in amazement. “Did I go and find myself a damn genie?!”

The blue half-man's head slowly rose and his eyes opened, looking down at Oliver passively. The wisdom of eternity was in those pale blue orbs that looked at him with something akin to boredom. “I suppose you could say that.” The genie replied with a booming voice. “And because you have found me, you will be granted three wishes. Do you want power? Riches? Immortality? Speak the words and it shall be yours.”

“Wow!” Oliver exclaimed, then let out a puff of laughter while he almost danced. Sure, every kid had heard the old fairy tales about genies and wishes, always dreaming of what they would ask for when they found their own magical lamp or bottle, but everyone knew those were just stories. It wasn't real. And yet, here he was sober as a stone with his hands holding one of those very magical items. It was his turn. He was being offered his wishes. Anything he could dream of was his for the taking.

He took a moment to calm down. He didn't want to say something stupid and waste one of his wishes. “Ok, give me one moment here to think.” He said, closing his eyes and steadying his breath.

It took only a moment to decide on at least one wish. After six long years on the street, he was more than ready to return to civilization. Hot showers and a warm, soft bed that didn't smell of urine and stale sweat. “Ok, for my first wish, I wish for my house back.” He said.

“Consider it done.” The genie boomed.

“That's it?” Oliver questioned, looking up into the other being's passive gaze.

“Yes.” The genie replied simply.

“Wow! Wowie wow!” Olvier replied, doing an excited spin in place. His wife had kicked him out as soon as his misdeeds had come to light, the divorce papers arriving while he was sitting in jail, awaiting his court date. His kids had refused to even look in his direction when he'd tried to talk to them outside of their school. Well they were all about to be sorry. They would ALL be real sorry, soon enough for discarding him like human trash.

“Ok, for my next wish, I wish for more money than I could ever spend in my whole life. I never want to work another day in my life, and I don't want to pay a single penny of it to the government!” Oliver demanded.

“Consider it done.” The genie said again.

“This is so great! I have my life back!” Oliver cried in victory. He released the bottle with one hand so that he could pump his fist at the sky. “Yes!” Suddenly a shadow crossed the man's happy features and the excitement faded away, replaced by bitterness and anger. “Wait. I still have one more wish, right?”

“That is correct.” The genie answered, his voice as emotionless as his timeless eyes. The genie did not judge, he did not care. He merely waited patiently for the choices to be made.

A slow, sly smile crept over Oliver's features, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated his final wish. “Alright then.” He said slowly, his voice becoming cold and calculating. “I wish for that asshole that got me into this situation in the first place to face a very gruesome, painful, humiliating death. I want him to really suffer. Teach him a real lesson before he dies. That will teach that little prick to ruin my life.”

“It will be done.” The genie boomed, then began to disintegrate back into a heavy cloud of smoke, before being sucked back into the jewel-encrusted bottle. Within moments, the smoke was gone and the bottle began to vibrate once more. But this time, it began to shrink within his grasp until it flattened out and transformed into a crisp ten dollar bill.

Oliver looked down at the bill in his hand in confusion. Had the genie left him with a tip? Was is cab fair or something? Why would he need this? His home was just an hour's walk away, and his bank account should be stuffed to the brim with all the money he would ever.... need.....

A chill ran through Oliver's body, instantly turning his hot blood to ice. The genie was gone. There was no way to take back or change his wishes anymore. It was too late. He slowly lifted his head, staring at a graffiti-covered brick wall that his eyes did not see. They widened in growing horror as comprehension slowly dawned.

[bisexual-yuri]

Talent and Blessings Don’t Matter in the Hospital (Lessons from ECMC)

There is only so much process you can reasonably expect someone to do 

I feel like I’ve hit my limit

Shit’s got me feeling bored and stupid like the village idiot 

Need my creativity need a job 

I’m all full of all sort of needs to sort out this agony of idleness

They say it’s a kindness to myself to take so much time to myself but what do I do all by myself except circle a drain I don’t want to drain out of?

Can I take a plane or a train off this cliff of boredom without alarming me and everyone that loves me?

Still processing neuropathy and dark shit discussed in therapy 

Like the fact that the nurses sedated me against my will needlessly because they were scared of me 

Don’t care that they’re the real scary she’s, the real scary ones 

The ones keeping me locked away from the sun and the fan

It felt like nobody cared that the son of God sees all including patient abuse, including how if you scary enough they’ll take your fuckin’ shoes 

They don’t got a clue the trauma they causer with the drama and gel/powder painted claws, damaging psych mentality, my prayer is done so more it be

Amanda and JD, were they manic or just anxious?

Why did Corey have to take all this?

Why won’t Fawzi just get all the words out?

Why wouldn’t they just let Jaxem the fuck out?

People no danger to themselves or me

Still in lockup, docs give no fucks you see 

False profits and false prophets get out easy

Druggin’ the fun out of Aggie

You ain’t fun no more, that’s how you get free

Behavior in the health, good behavior in hell

And it doesn’t even come with Mercy

Quitting’ Cymbalta cold turkey

Can’t see color, can’t smell nothin’, feelin’ wonky

Temperature a mess, cold water on hot hands

No one cares to listen, no one really understands that big emotions are not themselves a disease

Drug’ll fuck your mind up till you can’t even see

I’m Eliza spitting’ rhymes now, not lies now, no I’m no fucking donkey

It’s a song but I wrote it in the wrong key

Singin’ red teeth, spitting truth through the nose bleed 

Now I got time to kill but no blood to spill

You can’t take anything further away from me

Robbed of all my autonomy, my work and my loves all a trifecta of purgatory

Abuse and sex crimes by blonde bitches who look at me and see witches

Plural

I’m just one person, big feelings on a fleshly mural 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done to me 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done period 

I’m deadly serious 

This shit needs to get a hard look at it 

A world full of angels seeking their halos and wings, instead get shot down with syringes and bans that take wedding rings 

No wedding ring for me, no wedding ring for Sarah not even a tattoo

In the hospital they treat you like a damn fool and then wonder why you behave any differently 

Sorry ECMC but the truth you saw in there ain’t the real me, it’s the me you brought out of me

It’s the eagle you carved out of a hummingbird that was trying to rest on a dead tree

I’m not a dead me, I’m just me, so why did you try killing me to make me whole again?

I’ll tell you doc, you have cost me all sorts of friends by locking me up in this shit 

Made some new ones too, but the anger and the loss are harder pills to swallow than anything you gave me in follow up

Divorce the PTSD, divorce from real me, you people never trusted me to take care of me

It’s scary

I know in a moment I had lost my mind, but damn is that license to be so fucking unkind? 

How am I supposed to find peace in the belly of the beast? 

How is anyone supposed to heal when you hit them hard with rules about what is and isn’t real?

Makes you wonder who’s the delusional one, the patients or the system

All I know is the needle toothed fucker takes everyone as a victim and doesn’t care if we scream or we cry

More fuel for the fire, more reasons to make people want to die to escape this

I know Al, you’re still here and you can’t take this 

Neither can I, knowing people suffer every day in this hellfire of some hospital’s fucked up design 

But what can I do, I’m just one person and I don’t even have a second shoe to drop because of what the hospital took from me 

I have a lot of friends, lot of family 

Most people ain’t so lucky

Screaming on the wind “why did you do this to me and him and her and them and everybody?”

I wish I knew an answer, I wish I had a better answer than just to scream

Maybe someday when I am healed I will have energy to dream of a better future for this

But for now, all I can do is sleep

[seillean-vents]

I’ve never been good at identifying my emotions.

Putting words to the things I’m feeling has always been hard.

I’ve learned patterns, of course;

Heat in my face and shaking in my hands usually means I’m angry.

Feeling the need to jump like the need to breathe usually means I’m excited.

But this…

Jesus, this.

Shock was a bucket of ice water

Denial a flutter of light.

Pain is a fire in my chest

Anger is a hollowness I’ve never felt before.

I’ve lost before.

I’ve lost people to themselves before.

I’ve never lost someone to a needle before.

And god, I hate him for it.

I hate him and I’m angry at him and I love him and I miss him more than anything in the world right now.

And I know that addiction is a disease

And I know that it’s no one’s fault, really

And I know that you have to want help

But there’s a 6 year old deep inside me

A baby cousin who doesn’t understand

Who keens and wails within the hollowed

Walls of my ribcage

Because he chose the needle over her.

Over me.

Over thanksgiving turkey and candy cane ice cream

Over crystal growing kits and air hockey

Over shared meals and “good to see yous”

That we’ll never share again

Because we weren’t enough to keep him around.

And I hate him for it

And I hate myself for hating him for it

And I’m angry for it

And I love him despite it

And I would pay all the money in the world

To bring him back

Because I’m not ready to say goodbye

Because how do I say goodbye when you weren’t supposed to leave yet?

Why did you leave?

Were you alone?

Were you scared?

Were you in pain?

Are you safe?

Are you happy?

Are you at rest?

I’m so angry and I’m so sad and I know this because my tears won’t stop

And that usually means I’m sad,

Which is a pattern I’ve learned, of course,

Because…

[bisexual-yuri]

Talent and Blessings Don’t Matter at ECMC (Lessons from the psych ward)

There is only so much process you can reasonably expect someone to do 

I feel like I’ve hit my limit

Shit’s got me feeling bored and stupid like the village idiot 

Need my creativity need a job 

I’m all full of all sort of needs to sort out this agony of idleness

They say it’s a kindness to myself to take so much time to myself but what do I do all by myself except circle a drain I don’t want to drain out of?

Can I take a plane or a train off this cliff of boredom without alarming me and everyone that loves me?

Still processing neuropathy and dark shit discussed in therapy 

Like the fact that the nurses sedated me against my will needlessly because they were scared of me 

Don’t care that they’re the real scary she’s, the real scary ones 

The ones keeping me locked away from the sun and the fan

It felt like nobody cared that the son of God sees all including patient abuse, including how if you scary enough they’ll take your fuckin’ shoes 

They don’t got a clue the trauma they causer with the drama and gel/powder painted claws, damaging psych mentality, my prayer is done so more it be

Amanda and JD, were they manic or just anxious?

Why did Corey have to take all this?

Why won’t Fawzi just get all the words out?

Why wouldn’t they just let Jaxem the fuck out?

People no danger to themselves or me

Still in lockup, docs give no fucks you see 

False profits and false prophets get out easy

Druggin’ the fun out of Aggie

You ain’t fun no more, that’s how you get free

Behavior in the health, good behavior in hell

And it doesn’t even come with Mercy

Quitting’ Cymbalta cold turkey

Can’t see color, can’t smell nothin’, feelin’ wonky

Temperature a mess, cold water on hot hands

No one cares to listen, no one really understands that big emotions are not themselves a disease

Drug’ll fuck your mind up till you can’t even see

I’m Eliza spitting’ rhymes now, not lies now, no I’m no fucking donkey

It’s a song but I wrote it in the wrong key

Singin’ red teeth, spitting truth through the nose bleed 

Now I got time to kill but no blood to spill

You can’t take anything further away from me

Robbed of all my autonomy, my work and my loves all a trifecta of purgatory

Abuse and sex crimes by blonde bitches who look at me and see witches

Plural

I’m just one person, big feelings on a fleshly mural 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done to me 

Trying to make sense of the senseless violence done period 

I’m deadly serious 

This shit needs to get a hard look at it 

A world full of angels seeking their halos and wings, instead get shot down with syringes and bans that take wedding rings 

No wedding ring for me, no wedding ring for Sarah not even a tattoo

In the hospital they treat you like a damn fool and then wonder why you behave any differently 

Sorry ECMC but the truth you saw in there ain’t the real me, it’s the me you brought out of me

It’s the eagle you carved out of a hummingbird that was trying to rest on a dead tree

I’m not a dead me, I’m just me, so why did you try killing me to make me whole again?

I’ll tell you doc, you have cost me all sorts of friends by locking me up in this shit 

Made some new ones too, but the anger and the loss are harder pills to swallow than anything you gave me in follow up

Divorce the PTSD, divorce from real me, you people never trusted me to take care of me

It’s scary

I know in a moment I had lost my mind, but damn is that license to be so fucking unkind? 

How am I supposed to find peace in the belly of the beast? 

How is anyone supposed to heal when you hit them hard with rules about what is and isn’t real?

Makes you wonder who’s the delusional one, the patients or the system

All I know is the needle toothed fucker takes everyone as a victim and doesn’t care if we scream or we cry

More fuel for the fire, more reasons to make people want to die to escape this

I know Al, you’re still here and you can’t take this 

Neither can I, knowing people suffer every day in this hellfire of some hospital’s fucked up design 

But what can I do, I’m just one person and I don’t even have a second shoe to drop because of what the hospital took from me 

I have a lot of friends, lot of family 

Most people ain’t so lucky

Screaming on the wind “why did you do this to me and him and her and them and everybody?”

I wish I knew an answer, I wish I had a better answer than just to scream

Maybe someday when I am healed I will have energy to dream of a better future for this

But for now, all I can do is sleep