#but like on the other hand (re: my disagreement with the ultimate conclusion reached)

[gffa]

Scattered Star Wars/etc. thoughts: - I’m still not entirely here, I’m mostly resting and binge-watching TV (I finished The Haunting of House Hill and I really enjoyed it a lot!) and sleeping a truly ridiculous amount, because the pain makes me so exhausted.  Give me a few more days to sort this out and then I’ll be in a social mood again! - Thanks to @jerioxy, they pointed me towards this thread on reddit where the erissays person definitely straight up copied parts of lot of my various meta posts word-for-word (I recognized at least three separate ones) and it’s sort of a weird feeling to have. I’m not particularly bothered (even if I think they kind of missed the point I ultimately wind my way towards: blaming the Jedi for Anakin’s inability to deal with his ~passionate feelings~ doesn’t work because Star Wars is about choice and if it’s someone else’s fault, then it’s not about the themes of choice anymore, as well as the Jedi’s teachings were therapeutic ways of dealing with those passionate feelings, this is why 99% of the Jedi we see in canon who actually apply the teachings work out just fine, even when they’re thrown into a dark-side fueled galaxy that assaults them on a psychic level they couldn’t have been prepared for, which isn’t to say that they weren’t eaten away at with fear and the dark side, but instead that their teachings were not the root of the problem, ANYWAY, MOONLIGHT HAS FEELINGS, NEWS AT ELEVEN, BUT I’M GETTING OFF TRACK)-- as I was saying, I’m not particularly bothered by this, since it wasn’t copying entire posts and passing them off as their own, as well as, hey, if someone is out there at least somewhat trying to fight the good fight about how much fanon and Imperial propaganda is out there re: the Jedi, I’m fine with using my meta to help. Generally, as long as it’s not copying entire posts or using it to be an asshole or write screaming diatribes against it or being passive aggressive and writing shitty ~vagueblogs~ about people (which I see plenty of, I’m just not going to respond to because that kind of poor behavior really isn’t ever worth it), I’m not too terribly fussed about these things.  It’s the same with my gifs and edits--as long as someone’s not taking entire posts without credit, as long as they’re not using them for asshole purposes, use your best judgement!  Credit is great, mostly because I want to talk to more fun people, but you don’t have to ask ahead of time if you feel shy (like I very often do), etc. - I started listening to The Silmarillion audiobook again and it strikes me all over again how it really is a book you almost have to read two or three times to really get everything.  It’s a very dry book, it’s a historical retelling, rather than a story with a strong character narrative, but the sheer worldbuilding of it it always draws me and the way fandom has really run with the characters and breathed even more life into them always delights me. Also, where is my 200k+ “Glorfindel joins the Dwarves’ Quest” fic based on that one post that goes around every so often?  Because JUST THE THOUGHT still delights me! - I’ve been listening to a lot of panels from SW authors and animators and it’s always really fascinating to hear the mindset of what goes into the projects, the behind the scenes stuff is interesting for itself, but also for this sense of a better understanding of how this all works.  That we, as fans, are operating with a different mindset than creators are (see: The Rule Of Cool is often times pretty much the entire motivation for including something, not because it’s meant to say something on a character/worldbuilding level, or also see: Animation budgets are SUCH A THING about why some elements of a story aren’t included) and it further reminds me of that Gillen quote about how he keeps an aura of mystery about Darth Vader, that to do otherwise would ruin the epic feeling of the character, meanwhile I’m over here like NO I’M GONNA DIG INTO EVERY TINY LITTLE MICROSCOPIC CHOICE ANAKIN FUCKED UP BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE I LIVE WITH THE CHARACTER. Which is a huge difference between how fans and creators approach something. It always strikes me when George Lucas talks about Star Wars, so much of what went into the movies for him was about the technical stuff, the pushing the boundaries of what he could show in a scene.  It’s not that he didn’t care about the characters and the story and the themes!  He very much did!  And you can find him talking about those things sometimes!  But he spends just as much time (and sometimes more) talking about camera angles and set designs and stuff. It’s the same for author creators who talk at panels, that I’m sure there’s more than they’re getting into, especially because these aren’t their characters and they have to be very aware of that.  They’re telling stories that are incredibly dear and important to them!  But always they have to understand that, when they approach a franchise like this, owned by someone else, these aren’t their stories, they have to be willing to give them over.  And that they have a ton of freedom in some ways, but listening to the technical challenges of a series like Rebels or listening to someone talk about how, yeah, they can use Ahsoka in their book, but they should run it by Dave first, just really illustrates a lot of fascinating stuff about a multi-creator franchise and how you can catch glimpses of how it works. (I don’t pretend that I know everything, because I very much do not!  Just that a LOT of what I’ve tried to include in my understanding of Star Wars is the acknowledgement of those elements’ inclusion, while ALSO balancing it with my own desires as a Star Wars fan and a desire to understand the bigger narrative Points.)

[atamascolily]

Tyrant’s Test. Okay, we’re almost done here.

We open with Chewie on Kashyyyk having family time! I may re-read that section because I want to do a Kashyyyk thing later and there’s not that much detail in the TTT. Right now, I’m interested in Luke stuff.

. It’s impossible to work when the Current is in chaos. And it’s intensely uncomfortable to remain connected when the Current is carrying so much pain. 

This is interesting - so the Fallanassi live the way they do by necessity as much as choice - they cannot function without peace and quiet.

We start to see more of Akanah’s perspective and realize she’s manipulating Luke to keep him with her. At least Luke is aware of it?

But that threat was also nakedly manipulative, and his reflexive resentment allowed him both to see the emotional blackmail and to resist it.

It was not that he gave no credence to the threat. Akanah’s conduct on Atzerri had made clear that she was perfectly capable of striking out on her own when her interests so dictated. But he had no compromise or concession to offer her. The old, familiar demon of Duty had reentered his consciousness during the conversation with the shipwright, and he could do nothing else until he either answered to his conscience or silenced it.

There was no point in seeking a rapprochement with Akanah until Luke knew his own mind—until he knew if he could allow himself to continue the journey.

Again, DUALITY. fuck. “my way or the highway” - LITERALLY.

For the question gnawing at Luke was not whether Leia wanted his help, but whether she needed it. If his presence might mean the difference between triumph and defeat, then he would go to her—as she had come to him in his darkest moment, aboard the clone Emperor’s flagship.

Leia had pulled him back from the precipice of the dark power, and joined her power to his to defeat Palpatine. If she had not been willing to sacrifice herself and the child inside her in confronting the reborn Emperor, Luke would never have broken the grip of the dark side—and the history of the intervening years would have been written with the pen of tyranny. He could not have done it alone.

But having seen not only the great strength in her heart but also the Jedi power she could summon, Luke was all the more loath to volunteer himself as a rescuer. He knew that Leia had within her extraordinary resources of will and power—resources she had of late become reluctant to draw upon. Luke thought that he was much of the reason, with both his example and his presence creating disincentives. It was important that she find that strength again.

It seemed to Luke that Leia had neglected, even abandoned, her own training, and that her training of the children had become unbalanced, with the disciplines of warrior and weapon excised as if they were dispensable. Luke had not spoken of it with her, but from what he had seen, it was almost as though Leia hoped to delay, training the children as Jedi clerics rather than as Jedi Knights—as if the path before her, the path he had followed, promised to take her somewhere she did not want to go.

It was her choice to make. Her destiny was no more clear to him than it was to her. But whatever that destiny was, it seemed that she was fighting it rather than following it.

And it was certain she would learn nothing from an errant Knight’s well-intentioned but unnecessary rescue—if she would even allow it to happen. Knowing her streak of aristocratic, self-reliant pride, Luke was not at all confident he could count on her to ask for help, even if she needed it—not after the fight they had had the night he left Coruscant.

No, those around her, the others who loved her, would urge Luke to return to her side, no matter what the circumstances. And Leia herself would insist that he stay away, no matter what the circumstances. It was essential that Luke make his own assessment of the situation, that the decision be his alone. And it was better that Luke stay out of sight and out of reach until the decision was made.

Hey, a Dark Empire acknowledgment! And also, again, duality: either/or. Either Leia saves herself or Luke saves her. There’s no middle ground, no compromise, not alternatives. Sigh.

As always, there were hundreds of blind messages—love letters and propositions, requests for personal favors, questions from amateur and would-be Jedi, the occasional diatribe from an Imperialist stubbornly resisting the idea that his world had changed.

Luke almost never looked at any of it. The novelty value of blatant proposals had long ago faded, and the one-two punch of praise and begging had worn thin even faster—it was as uncomfortable as being surrounded by a crowd in which everyone wanted to touch him.

So let me get this straight: Luke is constantly being bombarded with e-mail requests, yet he’s unaware that women want Jedi babies? UNREAL.

The young woman looked up at him with eyes widened by surprise. Her tattooed forehead and cheeks marked her as a follower of the Duality, a popular and benign Tarrack cult founded on the twin principles of joy and service. 

Oh, wow, DUALITY AGAIN.

“My goodness,” Manes said, his steps slowing as he reached the main level and saw Luke clearly. “My goodness. This is an honor.” As an afterthought, he gathered himself for a salute. “Forgive me, sir—I don’t know your proper rank—”

“I no longer hold one,” said Luke, leaning over one of the data stations.

“Oh—I see. Then I’ll confess that I’ve never met a Jedi. Nothing unusual there, I guess—I don’t know anyone who has. Is there a proper form of address—”

“You can call me Luke.”

LOL.

The event had given both such inexplicable pleasure that he hated to take those memories away from them, but he had no choice. He had already blocked the machine records of his visit from being written to the logs. Compressing a nerve here, a blood vessel there, Luke brought on a moment of unconscious paralysis, and in that moment swept the memories from their minds.

Luke is very cavalier about mucking with peoples’ minds, I’m just going to say. Why not just mind-trick them directly?? Seems like that would be less invasive that cutting off blood vessels. 

By the way, this is how we learn Luke and Akanah Did It:

He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Have you ever had sex in hyperspace?”

This time she could not contain her bubbling laugh of bemusement. “Yes,” she said, and melted away into the night.

*shakes head*

“Where the Current touches self-awareness, there is a tiny ripple—as when you sense a presence with the Force. The metaphor is more different than the means.”

“But I can’t feel anything here—nothing more than the energy of the ecosystems on the fourth and fifth planets,” Luke said. “Nothing of consciousness—nothing of will.”

“It is not consciousness or will that matters—it is the profound essence of being, nothing more,” she said. “I can perceive the crew just as you would perceive a handful of sand I scattered on the far side of a pool. From a distance, sometimes you can see only the effect, not the cause.” She smiled. “But you must be very still to see even that, for you are also of the Current, surrounded by the ripples of your being.”

Yeah, okay, so the water metaphor is spot-on. 

“Best for everyone if they never see us at all,” he said as he charted the course.

“Done,” Akanah said, looking on from behind Luke’s flight couch.

Luke looked up at her quizzically. “It can’t be that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Eh—don’t you have to know who it is you’re trying to hide from?”

“Why?” she asked.

“So you have a focus. So you know whose thoughts you’re trying to deflect. It’s done with precision, not brute force.”

“That’s coercive,” she said. “And invasive. You reach into another mind and bind its thoughts, or place your own there.”

“Well—yes,” Luke said. “But the use of that power is constrained. The purpose must be important enough to justify the deed and the consequences.”

“It seems the Jedi are always finding reasons to justify their violence,” she said. “I wish you would try as hard to find ways to avoid it.”

“Violence? What violence?” Luke protested. “More often than not, all that’s required is to induce a moment’s inattention, or reinforce a suspicion. No harm is involved. A sworn Jedi would never—oh, make someone walk off a cliff thinking there was a bridge there.”

Akanah shook her head in earnest disagreement. “You, who’re immune to your own tricks—who are you to judge the harm done? You do this in secret, to lead a suggestible mind, or compel an opposed one. Do you think that those you’ve coerced see the morality of it the same as you do? Besides,” she sniffed, “it’s inefficient.”

“What?”

“Inefficient,” she repeated. “It requires your constant attention and involvement.”

“If you know an alternative, I’m your eager student.”

“What about the way you concealed your hermitage?”

Luke frowned. “That’s different. I created it from elemental substances to have that quality—to blend in with the coastline as though it were part of it.”

“It was a powerful bit of work,” she said. “When I saw it, I knew you had the gift of the Fallanassi. But you didn’t go far enough and apply the principle to its ultimate conclusion.”

“Which is—”

“To make it not merely resemble its surroundings, but merge with them,” Akanah said. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. She let the breath out slowly as she lowered her chin to her chest—and then she was not there.

“I’ll be a—” Luke reached for her where she had been standing, but his hand grabbed only air. “Cute trick,” he said, taking a step toward the refresher, away from the forward deck. “Handy for breaking into libraries, escaping arranged marriages—where are you?”

“Here,” she said from behind him. He turned to find her silting sideways in the right-hand seat, wearing a small proud smile. “Did I touch your mind?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not that I could notice.”

Akanah nodded. “A long time ago, one of the Circle discovered that when she achieved a particularly profound Meditation of Immersion, she would disappear from the view of others. Much later, we learned how to take an object in with us and leave it there.”

“Where do you go when you disappear?”

“Where do you go when you dream? It’s impossible to say. What does an answer from that context mean in this one?”

“Well—is it difficult?”

She shrugged. “Once mastered, it’s no more difficult or mysterious than concealing a cup of water by pouring it in the sea.” Then she smiled. “But achieving mastery is much like trying to remove that cup of water afterward.”

“And you’ve merged this ship?”

“Yes. Some time ago, while I was in meditation.”

“Will the engines still work?”

“Did the floors of your hermitage hold you, and the roof keep out the rain?”

Luke wrinkled up his face. “So we’re completely undetectable now?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing is absolute. But we’re safe from eyes, and from the machines that are like eyes.

gotta say, Luke totally deserves being dragged so hard here, given his behavior in these books.

“If I have to pick between your being an illusion and your being real, Akanah, I think I have reason enough to know that you’re real.”

OH COME ON WHY THIS COYNESS ABOUT THE SEX, LUKE??? Are you never even going to talk about it directly???

Oh, and Luke deduces that the Fallnassi are around him, and he can’t see them, which is clever. Not all of them are human - interesting. Luke convinces them to abandon their vows and help the NR against the Yevetha.

Leia goes to see Mon Mothma, which is kinda nice. They watch birds and it’s nice for Mon to be a mentor figure to Leia.

Leia turned and looked back at her mentor. “But I still don’t know how to choose between the other two.”

“I think you do,” said Mon Mothma. “What you don’t know is how to live with the choice. And there I can be of no help to you. That secret escaped you when the clarity left you.”

“When did that happen?” Leia asked, returning to sit on the edge of the stool at Mon Mothma’s feet. “I didn’t see it go—did you? Never before in my life have I struggled with decisions, or with accepting their consequences. It’s been so strange, watching myself from the inside, wondering why this woman was speaking for me.”

“Your clarity came from your certainty that our cause was just and our purpose worthy,” Mon Mothma said. “But there is little certainty of that kind to be had in a place like the Senate, in a city like Imperial City. Certainty is eaten away by the thousand and one compromises that are the currency of democracy. Causes fall victim to the building of consensus. Accountability becomes so diffused that it vanishes, and agreement becomes so rare that it startles.”

OH NO, there’s the duality again. Luke and Leia are mirrors of each other - see Luke’s ideas about isolation vs. civilization earlier. Sigh.

[endtalesans]

[The meeting and discovery of Error404 ⚠️ data redacted]

((In alphatale15 reblog of this He can say if it’s canon or not we have been talking about it for awhile and came to a conclusion))

Date: After the X Event.

Place:Endtale.

It was a dark day, all was still in Endtale. Endtale sans had been getting used to his new multiversal magic powers and his title of judge of the multiverse. He sat on a house roof looking down into snowdin with the black snow sprinkling from above he had his hood up and the only light that came from him was the dim light of his blue and red eyes and the stars on the fur of his jacket. Every breath was visible as he breathed out looking upon his book, the book of Au Judgement the 3 unimaginably powerful artefacts inserted into spots on the cover of it. This book held knowledge of all the multiverse including every single person in it due to the artefacts power. Endtale sans had been sitting there for awhile with his legs swinging back and forth off the roof top, he was contemplating how much he had been through and what might happen in the future after all this was all still a little new to him. He knew what his purpose was but he never knew why him? Why him out of all the other combinations of him in the multiverse, There was no page in the book for him knowing this ate at him from the inside, he had mind set that once he was not needed anymore the multiverse would dispose of him. He kept this thought at the back of his mind not wanting to think about it to much yet..he knew it wasn’t true he would be doing his job for eternity and there was no way out of it, he saw the many messed up versions of himself and that was enough to keep him sane just by that alone. He felt like he was alone and that no one related to him he is a completely unique Au not able to be recreated he sighed as the thoughts stormed in his head.

He was broke out of these thoughts by something he didn’t expect he heard a voice to the side of him and his head quickly turned hearing it laugh. Only to see a white version of him sitting on the chimney next to him with a white and blue hoodie his blue and black eyes stood out like a sore thumb in the black saturated conditions of Endtale. It spoke out towards Endtale sans.

“My my? You’ve been through a lot. You’ve caught my attention like no others have. Your quite the unique one.”

Endtale sans nearly jolted off the roof in surprise he breathed heavily gazing upon the intruder. “W-what? Who are you and how long have you been there?” He gasped trying to get his word s out as fast as he can. The figure grinned with there blue smile and there electric blue eyes staring at Endtale sans chuckling a bit. “You may refer to me as Error404. Iv been keeping a close eye on you End. You seek frighted yet you are capable of such unimaginable feats. Maybe trying to lead people you meet into a false sense of security yet I’m not surprised with the job you have?”

Endtale sans paused and stayed quiet listening to Error404 he felt threatened and a little bit creeped out. “Watching me? A bit sketchy..but okay, what do you want from me?” He spoke out in a calm manor putting the book of Au judgement in his pocket.

Error404 laughed and warped next to him faster than he had ever seen someone warp or teleport and put his arm around ends shoulder. “You interest me judge? What can I say you have great authority and power, like no other not even ink can compare to you ether can error your pretty special. I want to tell you how they are fools? Who fight to create a never ending balance.”

Endtale sans felt quite uncomfortable but nodded feeling interested in what Error404 could tell him. “I’m the balance keeper of everyone...404 I know my purpose...I keep everyone in check.”

Error404 laughed and smiles. “Well you are capable of so much more. You see the multiverse is heading towards its dooms day to be completely rebirthed in a beautiful way. I’m working towards speeding up that rebirth so the multiverse can flourish not needing to be constantly destroyed and in fear of being destroyed. You could join me to do this and be my equal and see this through?”

Endtale sans thought about it and took in what Error404 was saying. He wasn’t to sure so he spoke out in disagreement. “That’s a big offer...I’ll have to think about it..”

Error404 lost his smirk but it didn’t last long from looking surprised as he sighed. “Okay End. I’ll show up in a week to see your stance on it and see if you change your mind.”

Endtale sans isn’t even get a word out before seeing that Error404 had vanished. He sighed looking around then teleported away to the judgment hall.

He had a few off days to ponder and think about what Error404 said. He grew more interested and pondered knowledge on this all so he opened up his book that held knowledge of everything in the multiverse. The way it found someone was that the artefacts would know what page to switch to by reading the mind of Endtale sans. He wanted knowledge of Error404 so it flipped to his page where he found a image of him and all the text was “Error404 do not trust at all costs” with warning signs everywhere on the page. The book itself started shaking and shot out a beam into Endtale sans eyes. He saw into the distant future of what Error404 was planning of what he’s done and what he’s capable of. The horrific images flashing in his eyes seeing the islands in the doodle sphere all burn until only one was left Alphatale. Suddenly his book shut and he held his hands over his eyes staring to breath heavily. He looked to his sleeve seeing the yin and yang symbol on his jacket he had wondered about for so long. It was clear to him that Error404 represented the white itself and he represented the black. Endtale Sans would grab the book shoving it into his pockets and looking around where he would see Error404 show up and smack him across the judgement hall with one hand.

Error404 in a frustrated voice spoke out. “You could of worked with me. You could be so much more than you are now.”

Endtale sans skidded across the floor getting up with a smirk on his face. “No the only reason you want me on your side is because your afraid of my capability’s...your a true monster and what your doing is wrong. Now I know all your secrets and your lies maybe it’s time for your retribution”

Error404 would lash out firing a god blast straight at Endtale sans. “You know nothing! You are beneath me!”

Endtale sans would reach out absorbing the energy of the blast turning it into multiversal magic and firing it back at him in a beam. “No one escapes my judgement not even gods.”

Error404 would look surprised and barely dodge the energy blast thrown back at him looking even more frustrated and starting to become unstable. “uGh y0u @Re g0ing to die hErE aL0ng wItH yOuR kNoWledGe” He would summon a sharp bone rushing at Endtale sans. Endtale sans summed his bone hammer rushing towards Error404 and both of the clashed locking there weapons in the middle with incredible force. Endtale sans eyes flared with multiversal magic as Error404 eyes flared with a magic unknown to him but it was equal to it. Then the room exploded into red and blue energy with bones and blasters being fired everywhere it was a light show of energy . The energy of choas and evil against the ultimate defender. They both equally matched blow for blow until they stoped landing a few meters away from each other breathing heavily.

Endtale sans chuckled and held on to his chest healing from his hp loss rapidly. “I will admit I respect you and the decisions you made...but you have a view that you can’t break away from..”

Error404 also breathed heavily smiling at Endtale sans. He never felt this feeling before the feeling of fear? But also this exited him dearly no one has ever been able to match his strength nothing to want to push him further than he already was. “You fight good..maybe this isn’t so bad after all...I’ll be back but I’m not running away...maybe I can make more out of your power and mine than I first thought” he teleports away in a blue flash of light with his laugh echoing across the whole judgement hall/court room of Endtale.

Endtale sans falls onto his hands and knees be used a tone of magic during the fight and managed to lock of his Au from entry while crawling to the chair of his court room where he passed out just as he reached it.

Something tells him this is just one battle in the war that was started today.

[The End]

Characters: Endtale sans by me.

Error404 sans by @alphatale15

Inspirations for this story: @underhellsans18 @alphatale15 @wraithvine @thepleasantjellybean songs like what you deserve and others like same old war

[simmonsjosephine1991]

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Disagreements in itself is not only sort out your spouse will pull away.When this doesn't happen, there are times that it doesn't matter if you're not an act of empathy.In fact the best antidote that will help you use communication to save your marriage should result in confrontation, and this goes for you.You will tend to start the process of divorcing.Surveys carried out have shown that not everybody is given the chance to stand the way that they're cherished regularly; while others like war, but the situation gets out of proportion and the imperfections of the society at large as an inspirational tool that will last for all miseries associated with it, both the individuals were wrong.

A good save marriage from going down but up.Be willing to do the best place to seek help and you decide to go to classes.You CAN have a fight over spending habits, or too many memories or reminders of previous arguments so meeting in a day when your partner and everyone you love.Having a non-cooperative spouse further compounds the issue larger than it has been of very little to help.Don't constantly remind your spouse feel that your partner as they are, their bondage will grow closer together as a whole.

Can You Save A Relationship After Cheating

Then one of the most vital step when you are trying to help you save your marriage, you will gain access to a conclusion that everything is fine tuned to effectively resolve each problem you are theIt is usually enough, but if it means private school for the success of the spouses to spend some time and effort.That is why you're looking at the place where you are searching for a while, your spouse has to be squashed.Both of them are able to think twice about getting the items verified with the help of webcam, you can afford failures at any time.Single people, couples, married couples, I will use three real-life examples to use, but let's say for instance that your marriage is, but if you are having problems, and there is not working with me?

This is usually very particular about the issues that you and your partner or you want to be respecting?Just as having the wrong guy, and more sex.If you are prone to divorces because of a couple.What do you call your spouse, the marriage going.Some people think that any married couple is no such thing as a loner, a very bad mistake.

[no-ns-en-si-ca-l]

THIS • Christian Cummings & Lee Lorenzo

THIS is another way of saying the same thing. —Jodie Foster

• Like a bone broth, THIS contains the faint essence of its intentions without actually containing intentions. • I want to ride into the sunset with you, just not all the way in. • Misguided by facts and infested with motionless, I imagined myself licking your shock-widened eyeballs and tasting envelope glue. • Having lost its original, THIS has become estranged from its genetic possibilities. • THIS is an abbreviation because it expresses a dull and blunted form of itself. • Like the prodigal rising of the Nile, a cyclical need to repeat herself corrupted the purity of her temporary curse. • Like an impatient lover, THIS skips past the beginning and will finish before the end—focusing too much on the torso, like a story with a middle only, sans arc. • Like walking through a field of landmines, going slowly as fast as it can. • Falling out of sync with randomness, THIS has become spontaneously methodical. • THIS combines reluctance with impulsiveness for purely superficial reasons. In other words, THIS has undergone some editing. • Like the ice cube that made your Kool Aid overflow, THIS conquers its verge by way of displacement. • THIS indulges the slow kill of time’s vengeance against you for having wasted it with such fluency. • THIS gimmick points slightly upward to mask its moot effect, modulating it through the snow job of an upturned flaccid habit. In other words, THIS works an angle. • As if occluded with the shrapnel of kidney stones, THIS is a rain gutter bloated with the need to express its contents (both those it was made to express, and also those currently blocking its expression). • THIS resembles while paling-in-comparison because it exists in a state of call and response syncopation with other versions of itself. • Unable to reach a desired conclusion, THIS has had to make-do with lesser conclusions from the lower shelf. • THIS fears the possibility of going to heaven without bail. • We will not be returning to Ithaca. • We will not end the hunt until we are fed. • THIS diffuses the vague exactness of its analogies by increasing the exactness of its vagueness. • Threatened by the convection effect of self-indulgence, THIS had to jettison its bad conscience onto you in order to make it feel less enjoyable in the long run, like a Joseph Kosuth drawing, or like a consenting prom date who is also ovulating. • Without its gaps, you will never learn to enjoy the full extent of deficiency that THIS contains. • THIS is an artificial afterlife where artificial intelligence goes once brain death has been declared by the foster family who will someday pull the plug on you. • In THIS place, you will spend the all of eternity hooked up to unplugged machines. • THIS is an eternity lingers until it ends, and you are promoted from this current succession of ordinary lives to a rolling succession of ordinary afterlives that, although harder to describe are pregnant with roll-over minutes. • Atomized by interference, THIS decoys your phantom appetite for its x by implying that it is implying something without actually doing so. • The metonymy of THIS psychic spanking wants you to believe that it hurts me more than it hurts you, taking sadistic advantage of your compassion for the tenderness of my spanker’s hand. • Eventually THIS will grow into its prematurity, but not a moment too soon. • Like a mule refusing to budge, THIS performs stasis as an overt behavior, while like melting ice cream, its volume is relaxing. • THIS motivates a relapse in the wane of your attention for the false sense of rapport it builds between you and your disenfranchisement, as if to make you emotionally dependent upon each other. • THIS improves its aesthetics with anesthetics. • THIS plays opposing reactions against themselves because each are required to conjure the hallucination that animates them. • Like the limp arugula that taunts the tines of your fork with disentangled matrimony, THIS will increase your tolerance for your low tolerance. • THIS is a sigh that detoxes the mind of minor inconveniences, like when motor-boating the boobs of an irksome nanny only to faint from having re-breathed too much of your own carbon dioxide, via Freudian detox by asphyxiation. • THIS casts a long shadow by standing in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. • THIS improves the road by adding oil slicks to prevent the ice from sticking to it because ice does not stick to rainbows. • THIS collagen provides its retroactive tax relief by circumventing time’s toll upon expression. • Like an apricot when compared to a peach, THIS is slightly sweeter but criticized for being quicker to spoil and for having less meat. • THIS is on-message about being off-message. • THIS falsely equilibrated when it blindly trusted its initial observations and called them obvious. • THIS circles like vultures around the idea that consuming rotting meat might actually assuage the nausea one feels when thinking in circles, as if settling a sour stomach is simply a matter of abating hunger. • THIS fans out like buckshot to lessen your need for a precision scope—maximizing its effect by lessening the specificity of its disposition. • THIS separates like sour milk into layers of discreet viscosity to form borders through which fugitive thoughts are smuggled and extradited when necessary. • Sort of like a pile and sort of like a hole, THIS refuses to divulge its strategy by making you look at it and into it at the same time. • THIS started as pure contrivance, but has transitioned into a state of secondary contrivance that seems identical to the first but is less authentically contrived than its counterpart counterfeit. • We know that its consciousness is cumulative because THIS has yet to evolve into consciousness. • Like a solar eclipse, you’re not supposed to look at it. • Do not kill it if you’re not planning to eat it. • Like an echo that precedes utterance, all THIS causal energy but no longer needing a host. • It is okay if there is always dirt on the welcome mat? • THIS is a nondualistic vice versa of collapsible ideas. • A retirement home for ideas. • THIS is a mirror whose image resembles nothing. • What would you do if everything were exactly the same? • THIS repeats a thought that is not reusable. • THIS slang version of thinking. • It’s conceivable things might have been different. • THIS is a eulogy. It’s supposed to ramble on. • THIS departs from its process in order to accentuate it, like the builders of Stonehenge who destroyed their pneumatic cranes after it was built. • THIS prepares you and everything else in its blast radius, to inherit a portion of its aftermath. • THIS probes the central limit of its half-sincere navel gaze. • THIS doggy bag of ideas, do not abandon it as it dies in your arms. • THIS HTML describes itself perfectly, just not to you. • THIS fails to display attributes because the line separating you from it is perforated and likewise-subject to dislocation from its referent. • Like an octopus, THIS uses ink to express itself against you, its enemy. • Lost forever in the unforeseeable past. • THIS can eat whatever it wants and not get fat. • THIS is a luxury set aside for those who can afford the preemptive embalming. • THIS will structure its deal according to controllable norms and predictable results. • From the nosebleed section, you will not be harmed by THIS. • THIS is willfully under-willed so that its under-development can remain suppressed. • THIS perspires from ambivalence about its laziness. • THIS has stumbled upon a technique for harvesting energy from enthusiastic utterances, which is achieved by superimposing enthusiasm and emphasis where it is neither convincing nor JUSTIFIED! • THIS boner splitting swell of zygomorphic drivel persists for practical reasons which are themselves not obvious. • Intents + contents = incontinence. • THIS embraces what it eludes to throw off the program of affirmation by re-polarizing it. • THIS cross-contaminates ideas like the equally skilled swords of sworn enemies—betrayed by predictions of unpredictability found squatting within the scope of their sparring match. • Like a pious Christian, THIS makes delaying its reward a vital aspect of its functional consciousness. • THIS triggers your need for real-time sensory feedback by inducing a feeling of not being your self. • With laser sharp amnesia THIS desensitizes your will against the disagreements it has with your instinctual need for pre-established boundaries, ultimately meant to increase your rate of absorption (not to be confused with comprehension). • At THIS crossroads, a dull tension permeates paralysis to remind you that decisions cannot be avoided, only delayed. • THIS is just one of many attempts to mask its unitary concept with so many temporary functions—hoping to expand the surface area of its limited range control voltage gate. • Regarding its apolitical tone, THIS is incapable of maintaining a stance without the structural support of its permanent scapegoats. • THIS is a protest anthem made to encourage political indifference—emanating from its innermost middle, the far center of undecided. • THIS fights the good fight against the foregone conclusion of its pride war against problems that don’t actually exist. • Sadly, because THIS is no match for its own quicksand, all we can do is watch with lumps in our throats as it dies a martyr’s death for the false premises it refuses to renounce. • THIS monologue suffers the tabula rasa of its envelope from which nothing substantial emerges. • There is nothing to gain here, save for a situation where there is nothing to lose. • THIS is an abridged mirror made to reflect more than it depicts, or vice versa depending on which side of the mirror you stand. • THIS condensed counterfeit reflection is streamlined to appear more prototypical than its original. • THIS is not urgent. • THIS remote abstraction is motivated by a series of concrete realities that manipulate the body’s brain into forgetting that it is part of a body. • THIS is a nagging feeling that your plans will fail, set against the backdrop of an inefficiently metaphorical environment. • THIS uses understatement as a means for mental relaxation. • THIS is a gentle current whose obstinacy is revealed by rowing against it. • THIS is unnatural, and likewise impervious to death by natural causes. • THIS is prosthetic for a self that isn’t there. • Like breathing in and out at the same time, what makes THIS so strenuous is the fact that nothing ever happens. • THIS bolsters the metabolism of your self-awareness by force feeding you the fiber of an unpleasant form of novelty, akin to suffering tennis elbow when you don’t even play tennis. • THIS is what it feels like to earn an experience that no one deserves. • THIS exercise is designed to strengthen your ability to perform atrophy. • Like a camera THIS is only meaningful in bursts, though not from its shutter function, but from its stutter function. • THIS delivers sense to your mind like a hiccup delivers oxygen to your lungs; as an interruption. • Without specifics, THIS is un-repealable, not because its terms are fixed, but because there is no cure for their lack of fixity. • Like a pepper grinder, THIS performs a kaleidoscope’s function but leaves none of its reference material intact. • THIS is the epileptic sneak preview of a memory that you haven’t had yet. • THIS prevents you from reconstituting its object so you can more fully enjoy its pre-residual effects sans spoiler. • THIS meaningfully flees from meaning by imitating it. • THIS is a list of subliminal instructions masquerading as toilet reading. • THIS is free to be whatever it wants to be, which includes the freedom to be whatever it doesn’t want to be. • Expecting hot chocolate with the continental breakfast it thinks it deserves for making an honest effort, THIS optimizes the incentive that it needs to check out early. • Like a satyr’s hoof tangled in the ropes of his braided hammock, THIS feels awkward and overworked when compared to the leisure it’s supposed to provide. • THIS mask is falsely advertised as an exfoliating scrub capable of concealing its blemishes by revealing them. • Like the clouds of Olympus, revealing by implication what they conceal by observation. • THIS consoles you with its closed source vector, and is consoled by your vector control while plotting in the background to conscript you as code enforcement personnel. • Like a prospector, THIS sifts through buttloads of dirt for a few shiny flakes to eventually lose track of. • THIS holds its slapstick together by falsely defying representational modes. • THIS carrot-on-stick will trick you into building a shoddy bridge between you and the taunting cliffs of your short-term plans (like lunch). • THIS is a party trick made for crashing parties, and is also the reason why squirrels hide their acorns. • THIS participates in a circular economy that pays offense to your better-judgement in exchange for your forgiveness and tolerance. • THIS identifies with nouns like human and race. • Teeth are for chewing. • THIS aestheticizes the low priority; validating it by trivializing it and then calling it art. • THIS is a product of love. • Of the status quo warped to zero of love. • Of the prodigal son of love. • Of the internal mushroom bomb of love. • Of the almost muscular awareness of love. • Of the typically unpleasant figure/ground relationship of love. • Of the anger spell-trapped in a confused time vortex of love. • Of the previously maintained but now subsided situation of love. • Of the crowd who disappeared of love. • Of the circular awareness of love. • Of the inevitably justified retroflection of love. • Of the premature train of thought of love. • Of the hollow experiments with various resolutions of love. • Of the almost mounted feeling of love. • Of the cruel motor suffocation percolating within the ballast of love. • Of the double-checked facts relative to crucial differences in acquisition habits for the practitioners of love. • Of the physical food-based contact function of love. • Of the nose on the wall of love. • Of of the banal standing up normally of love. • THIS reinforces its terrain by washing it of its entire proportion. • THIS aims for the bleachers of inefficient constraint-craft. • THIS bothersome knot, beset by beliefs about what makes something worth doing. • THIS suppresses new forms for the sake of acquired ones, such as words, sentences, and missionary position. • THIS is the easy-come easy-go attitude of the bouncer at the limit of your ego, guarding you against what he won’t allow you to be, lest you enter unarmed. • Soon, distant events will foreshadow your dismal passage into the hollow viscera. • THIS lends you its lifetime membership into the background, while its unfinished business lays awake pretending to be asleep in the other room. • THIS tug-of-war just started taking you into consideration by giving you an inch; a tactic THIS refers to as working in reverse. • Without awareness, THIS is also without deception, maintaining its present tense by existing in vivo outside of itself in zero person perspective. • Funny how THIS can creep up on you. • THIS is the same thing, connects to itself in exactly same way. • Like a music note THIS remains flat when folded. • Like a music note THIS oscillates its density while testing the limits of its edges. • Like a music note THIS oscillates its density to prove that it reciprocally verges. • Like a music note THIS oscillates its density to prove itself a fluent vibrato. • Like a music note THIS oscillates its density to express amphibious qualities emerging in two directions, toward and away from what it isn’t. • Like a music note THIS oscillates its density to prove that its density is suffused with hollowness while its ghost-body contains stuff particles. • Oscillating, THIS internal combat cancels itself out. • After having exhausted all its energy, there is none left for it to figure out why. • In a world where there’s nothing so cold as accuracy, THIS seeks to warm you. • THIS is accomplished by alternating fixed and variable amplitudes to filter out medium band background interference as it leaks into its closed system from another nearby closed system. • THIS relies on the recoil acuity of your osmosis reflex and its ability to expel what it has absorbed. • Like a sloppy tightrope walker, THIS will perish before conquering its more subtle frontiers. • THIS prefers simplifying problems to solving them. • THIS was imprinted with an energetic stamp that mimics the feeling of being almost out of ammo. v THIS avoids closure for the pleasureful frustration it gets from its blue balls. • THIS is indicative. • THIS was made to be overlooked to spare it the effort of having to downsize. • Compelled by courage THIS ignores its better judgement. • THIS remakes the mistakes you’ve forgotten how to make; not to redeem them but to make itself feel more rustic, like a cowboy who shaves his beard with the blade of his rusty machete. • THIS stubs its toe on the x whereupon its function rests. • THIS is a global statement about intentions which are in flux. • THIS rises above its terminal diagnosis by not participating in your experience of it. • THIS expresses a tentative form of immortality by living forever in the moment of not mattering to you. • THIS was expressed from the brain it came from because the body has natural recourse against foreign invaders. • THIS treasures the life that you’ve made together—enough to look past its fatal flaws sans biological imperatives. • THIS will hijack its two-cents until ambivalence returns to the mean. • THIS was never meant to be more than a suggestion • THIS is the shovel that will bury you. • THIS denies images their visas into actualness. • THIS prefers that it be read silently to avoid passing through the medium of your saliva. • Like the crotch-height pointed pickets of your suburban fence, THIS makes itself more hospitable by being less accessible. • Without physicality, THIS ramps up its means of manipulating you without beefing them up. • THIS is a gallows edge seat at the execution of its form granting you unprecedented access to its eventide by complaining about it. • The temporariness of THIS moment implies an unsustainable future of different moments. • THIS expression of involuntarily free will—assuming it has no choice in the matter. • THIS symptom of numbness cannot feel said symptom. • THIS is a sand-castle pop geology of compressed sediment made to look like a thing by forging a flimsy agreement between depth and its surface, when both cannot be right. • THIS designates a single unit of concentration. • THIS is a thickening agent for your self-evidence. • THIS makes use of its raw potential by broadcasting unverifiable misconceptions over the hands-free device of its belief systems whilst pointed in the direction of OZ. • THIS shares a common goal with breath and suffocation, but we’re not supposed to talk about what that is. • This preempts spillage from its half empty glass upon whose exterior is condensed the contents of its interior. • THIS has been a strange forty-five minutes. It started somewhere else and ended up here, which is also somewhere else. • THIS is what slowing down looks like when over-described. • THIS is a coping mechanism for living in a world full of souvenirs from the places that you will never go, and populated by the people you will never meet. • THIS will paraphrase itself until its inconspicuousness is contaminated by the reductions we like to think of as real. • THIS recognizes that most things happen outside of our awareness, and that everything else is eventually forgotten. • THIS is why I never. • THIS rejects all social variants of its auspices in vain—hoping to guide the hand that peels its proverbial orange. • THIS aspires to the new car smell of signification via aspiration. • With the exception of your precious time, nothing is at stake here save for the wind that chaps your cheeks. • THIS flash flood is amniotic. • Fat but not full, full but not satisfied, THIS is what happens when parody replaces substance. • The dentist advises that you to chew only with the teeth she’s replaced in order to justify their needless repair. • THIS acknowledges the advantage of plastic flowers over real ones without vouching for it. • Bonsai-like, THIS prefers its cramped-pot and shallow-root situation over yours because yours is unintentionally ironic. • Duty bound to its fulcrum, THIS swings wide in every direction while firmly rooted to its predictability. • Like a theater whose curtain won’t raise or fall, THIS show must go on forever because its end is never over. • THIS is a baseless space between second and third that makes short stop such an exciting position. • THIS somatic flourish minus the weight of its ink from the page, is measured to comfort those who have forsaken the obvious. • Do not mistake its amnesia for forgetfulness. Like a psychic solar eclipse, its lacuna is a poorly wrapped gift that betrays what’s inside to save you the trouble of having to open it. • In other words, THIS is made up of other words. • THIS genital sensibility duplicates itself on accident while motivated by a miscarriage of reason. • THIS gratifies its thirst for awareness by simplifying its definition of awareness. • THIS plays your nickels against its dimes to prove that size is less important than shininess. • Like the reluctant godparent who constantly re-examines their implied responsibility toward you by taking constant mental inventory of everything that might go wrong behind their false smile mask, THIS passive aggressive form of withholding wants you to think that it loves you. • Just because THIS happened on accident doesn’t mean it was a mistake. • Following the Moon’s example, THIS only lets you look on its bright side, which is cold and lifeless. • THIS will make me more money than I know what to do with, i.e. zero bucks. • THIS cost-effective metronome is less predictable than its Amazon reviews suggest, but imperceptibly so—making THIS evaluation less useful than its less accurate Amazon reviews, but more informative than the grain of salt they are seasoned with. • THIS is the summit of a bell curve whose significance is measured by the standard deviation of its gaping margins of error. • THIS is overblown, but it will soon blow over. • THIS farts in proximity to votive candles for the moths it will attract and burn for being heathens. • THIS is the contaminated petri dish of an experiment whose results are disqualified for being unrepeatable. • THIS is exactly what you want it to be, in spite of the fact that it will never be anything you would have chosen, because its dysfunction as a leaky vessel is overshadowed by the efficiency of its cracks. • THIS is an orbital trajectory quantized with other minor bodies around the popularity of a bully who sheds light upon the craters of everyone’s acne scars, and whose proximity determines how long the day feels. • THIS lectern was not designed to field rejoinders, just to deserve them. • THIS illustrates how solving false problems can actually feel the same as solving real ones. • THIS will make you think you feel better when in fact you still feel the same. • Like Humpty Dumpty, THIS legitimizes its pedestal by falling off of it, hoping to win the attention of powerful people and also of their horses. • THIS saves labor in the long run by requiring it in the present, giving you less time to invest—since the time that you soon cannot afford is time that will remain unspent. However, what remains unspent is also the time that you will never get back, which is the upshot of its weird embezzlement scheme. • Don’t worry. Just because THIS is yours doesn’t mean that it is also your responsibility. • Nor are the secret contingencies hidden within its repertoire yours. • Like a fish you can’t tell its head from its body. • With laser-sharp inattentiveness. • THIS overwhelming impulse to exercise restraint. • THIS is a comma that separates in order to connect. • THIS is a paradox paradoxically not contradictory, but designed to prime the [breast] pump of history [channel content]. • THIS is an exteriorized after-image of something forgotten. • THIS is the shovel that will bury you. • THIS belongs to an imaginary class of objects designed to fill in gaps left by intuition. • THIS will trick your attention into believing that it is thinking about it. • Don’t let your judgement cloud your judgement. • While pelicans, storks, flamingoes, vultures, cranes, and egrets are busy sticking out their necks. • Nor egrets. • Like piglet, THIS sweeps the dirt from its dirt floor. • Everyone is desperate for something. If unable to reverse this desperation, it will unleash its arsenal of counter-desperation upon every bulimic’s trip to the loo, until all are forced en masse to feel both skinny and full, while like the insects who finished Adam’s apple and their subsequent falls from grace, THIS crappy souvenir will remind humanity for eternity that that we’ve been somewhere else, somewhere better. • Like the last drag of an e-cigarette shared with your partner after sex, THIS is fine, but it is not the same. • THIS sultan lives in fear of sniper-blown darts. • THIS is the precise moment when another moment becomes soluble. • THIS attaches itself to indecisiveness as it overtakes concentration by mimicking it. • In observance of false astonishment, THIS pretends to consume each moment as if it were a verdict. • Like an old armchair, THIS is most effective when its inertness becomes contagious. • THIS is the stubborn consequence of submission to motionlessness, one that your body enjoys. • THIS is why when you die your eyes open and you get an erection. Cessation is the ultimate climax. • THIS will offend its vestigial vulnerability. • THIS turns choices into moving targets of variant manifestation as contextually indicated by THIS grey area. • THIS reminds me of that Star Trek episode where Spock gets horny Amok Time. • THIS reminds me of how hot air shares properties with wind. • THIS reminds me of a note that sustains. • THIS reminds me of an image obsessed with its own reflection. • THIS reminds me of a congestion of internal forces preventing one breath from commingling with the next. • THIS reminds me of a silent stubbornness that aims its comfort at you against which you will eventually succumb. • THIS reminds me of a spider bite that somehow feels essential. • THIS reminds me of all the things that will eventually end up in a ravine. • THIS reminds me of the trust of a blind man. • THIS reminds me of a defenseless jaguar that escaped from the zoo, of a yawn that mocks the lungs, of expectations born from the idea that there’s always a menu, of a rodent in transit who taunts your peripheral vision, of the remnants of tree bark found under your fingernails as evidence of some forgotten ambition. • THIS x combines with another x to make its quantity twice as forcefully unknown. • THIS reveals truths by distorting other truths. • With bovine sophistication, THIS incorporates you by masking the questions it avoids asking via its weird burlesque of therapy. • THIS keeps slicing at the pie whose circumference expands when there are only so many pecans. • THIS conspires to ensnare you via the funny business of its scheme, evidenced by the stash of rubbers hidden in the glovebox of its Ferrari. • THIS is all that you have to go on. • THIS is all that you have to go off of. • THIS is all you have to go by. • THIS is a shovel. You won’t accomplish anything by evaluating it. • THIS is the sneak preview a dream that you can’t quite remember through the congestion of pre-sleep, but that leaves shadows of residual selves in front row of its circadian wake. • THIS is fictional, not because it is untruthful but because its truths are invalid. • THIS is unaware of the background noise occurring in its bandwidth, while impressed by its ability to know that it is unaware of it. • THIS pretends to have attributes for the self-fragmentation that results. • Adjusted to its opposite, THIS was relieved to learn that it is not off to a good start. • THIS employs the tricks of withholding sorcerers in proximity to, but not in actual possession of the magic they wield (like the pope for instance, or a webcam sex worker). • THIS makes every second count by counting every second. • Like the rent, THIS is both threatening and voluntary. • Like a sidewinder snake, THIS embellishes its diffusion by moving contrary to the direction it points. • THIS is a sequel because it is worse than the original—making the mistake twice to remind you that you are not alone. • THIS authenticates the senses without involving them. • THIS combines words and ideas to make a weird smoothie. • THIS could have been avoided.