#like we can compare to ourselves all we want but we still live in a world where it's significantly more possible to speak out

[evilkitten3]

having some thoughts on itachi and radicalization and how people can do the most horrific shit imaginable while fully believing it's the right thing to do and police states

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[foone]

I want a human zoology textbook.

Zoology, as in the study of animals. Like, a study of how humans work, done by an author that is not human.

I specifically want this for a couple reasons:

1. Descriptive, not prescriptive: don't tell me what the author thinks humans should do or how they should be. Tell me what they do. Observationally!

2. No bias towards "nature". I don't particularly care what the author is imagining humans are like in some "garden of eden" unfallen state. I want it to reference how humans ARE.

3. No morality applied to this! What do humans DO, not what you think they should do, or how they should be. And most importantly, no self-censorship in order to avoid offending some of the humans that disagree with ways people live.

And the reason I want this is because of how biology textbooks/wiki pages get written, where even if they try to be progressive they're still written from this weird perspective where they're explaining based on old ideas and the progressive stuff gets a footnote.

Like it'll be "humans have two genders, male and female. This is determined from their chromosomes, XY for male and xx for female."

And then you scroll past two pages for men and another two pages for women, and then it has one subsection that covers non-binary people and intersex people. And it's like: well then integrate that into your main statement!

It's like the author's worldview is still "there's two genders and everyone is born as one" but they've been forced to accept there are some weird exceptions but the core worldview is unchanged. And it's understandable! Wrong, but understandable: the grew up in a world that is quite strong on the "there are only two genders" ideology and doesn't like to remember that intersex people exist.

But like, imagine if you tried to do this as a zoologist. You're like "hey, all bees are female!" and then someone points out the rare male drones and they're like "oh okay I'll update my zoology textbook."

And now it reads:

All bees are female. Most are workers, and one is the queen.

(a couple sections go pass)

Drones: recent science has discovered that some bees are born male. These rare exceptions live short lives where they fertilize a queen and then die.

And it's like, no? Drones are very important to how a hive lives and they can't survive without them?

And we're constantly doing the same thing to humans and it's just bad science. Like, sure, maybe you could have the theory that "humans come in two genders: male and female" but as soon as you see one non-binary person, you have to discard that theory: it has been proven false! It's like not believing in other galaxies after Henrietta Swan Leavitt figured out how Cepheid Variables worked.

Add to that the "nature" thing. Like, you can make a sort of argument about nature vs artificial settings for a lot of species: the whole alpha/beta wolf thing came about because it turns out wolves act differently in captivity compared to the wild, so it makes sense to study how the vast majority of wolves live, not a small group you stuffed into a small area with unusual conditions. It's like saying the lifespan of goldfish is under 5 minutes, based on your study of them in this dry box you put them in.

But humans are different: we are tool-users who build new environments for ourselves. And while you can talk about how humans living in different environments act differently, it doesn't make a lot of sense to call one of them "artificial". All of them are made by us, and humans always do this. This means all environments are natural (because building environments for ourselves is what we naturally do) and all environments are artificial: we always alter our environments to better suit us! That's one of the things we naturally do!

And as for morality, it's about not ignoring things humans do regularly because you think it's weird or you think they shouldn't.

Like that tweet where someone pointed out that lots of species can change gender. Clown fish are a big one, some frogs, a couple birds, some lizards, and humans.

And people often have an immediate knee-jerk reaction of "that doesn't count!" for the last entity in that list. Why? Because we do it (usually) with clothes and makeup and medication, instead of just "naturally"? Bullshit. We're naturally TOOL USERS. Of course we use tools to change gender. We use tools to do EVERYTHING. That's natural for us.

So yeah. I think it'd be refreshing and enlightening to have a zoology textbook written about humans with this detached non-human perspective. An unbiased description of what humans are and do, rather than one irrevocably tinged with ideas of what humans should be and should do.

Basically I want to load up Vulcan Wikipedia and check the "Humans" article.

[messiahzzz]

i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

[furiousgoldfish]

We often can't help ourselves but to look at other people's experiences of abuse to see who has it worse, to put our own situation in some sort of context, to place ourselves in this big scale of how bad it was. We're used to comparing, because in abuse we are often compared to every fictional scenario of 'who has it worse', to make us shut up about our own situation, so if we have some real scenarios to compare ourselves to, we will. Even if we know it's bad to compare, that pain is pain, and all abuse is bad, we still wanna know where we are in this fictional scale of who had the most horrible abuse. The implication being, that only people who had it worst are allowed to complain about it and have symptoms.

And I think it's natural to a point, to want your experiences put into some sort of context, to be able to see how our experiences compare to others, and we're not necessarily doing it to make anyone else feel bad or shut anyone up. We don't believe in the hierarchy of 'who had it worse', we just want to know exactly where we are in the scale and to adjust our behaviour accordingly (we need to know our place in the hierarchy to know if we're allowed to complain and show symptoms.)

But the thing is, the consequences  and the symptoms won't necessarily reflect the hierarchy. The damage from the abuse will sometimes come from the intensity and the perceived amount of trauma in the situation, but it will also come from what the abuse communicated to us, and what it taught us. Because if we were exposed to abuse, any kind, it is likely we all got communicated the exact same thing to us: you're not worthy of acceptance and love. You're not inherently deserving of happiness and care. You've deserved to be hurt, it's normal and natural for others to hurt you. You're a burden on others. You're unlovable. You can only exist in specific conditions where you're being consistently punished for being who you are. You're weak. You're supposed to be handling everything better. You're incapable of living a normal life. You're too sensitive and too emotional. You're a failure and you won't ever be able to deserve anything.

Whether these messages are communicated via violence, neglect, shaming, guilt-tripping, manipulation, exploitation, the consequences are the same. A person feeling deep shame about who they are, feeling alienated from human society, scared of being seen for who they are, scared of trusting others, desperate for positive attention but either ashamed or completely oblivious to how to get it without inviting further abuse into their life. Most of us have these consequences in common, despite the intensity or duration of abuse; and it's equally devastating for all of us.

We're taught to look for differences and levels of intensity of abuse, but the reality is that the hierharchy and scale are not real in any tangible or comparable ways; we all have much more in common than we have different between us. We're all cut off from feeling loved or safe, we're all alienated and struggling to feel like a part of society, we're all betrayed by our loved ones, we're all insecure in our personal relationships and identity, we're all struggling to keep any kind of faith in humanity. The scale was inflicted on us in order to silence us from speaking up about it; it created this mythical person who had it so much worse and is allowed to complain, while we're not, because we didn't have it as bad. But all of us had something cut off form us, and all of us should say it. We don't need to alienate ourselves from each other based on variety of abuse because we can speak in unison about how it affected us.

There's nobody who's 'not being abused bad enough to be allowed to complain' because all abuse alienates us from ourselves and our humanity, and it's going to be more similar to what everyone else abused is going trough, than it is from being treated in a normal and humane way.

[gatheringbones]

[“Sometimes, the abuse is so subtle that we fail to notice it. Sarcasm, ridicule, teasing, “kidding,” or continual criticism, for instance, starts to feel less like abuse and more like a part of the background noise. Sometimes one partner does not meet the other’s needs, but since he also does not do anything major to upset the apple cart, Adam and Eve go on in the relationship without thinking of options such as change or separation: He will never be so bad that you will leave him but never so good that he will satisfy you. In either case, we may fool ourselves into hoping for change rather than working for it.

If hope doesn’t include a plan for change, it is actually hopelessness and avoidance of change. What we do not change, we choose. Is this the message we get from the partner of our distress: “Stay with me and I won’t give you what you want,” or “Come back and I still won’t give you what you want”? We cannot be fooled forever. One day we allow ourselves to know and then take action.

Emily Dickinson, in her poem “’Tis not that dying hurts us so,” compares two kinds of birds in Massachusetts, those that stay the winter and those that migrate to warmer climes. She then says: “We are the birds that stay.” To be “the birds that stay” in wintry New England when wisdom would send us to Mexico is a cruel fate to impose upon ourselves. We can use it as a metaphor for a relationship in which we stay with someone who does not nurture us: we need a loaf and beg for a crumb from someone who’s afraid to give a loaf and hardly willing to give a crumb. To live in Massachusetts winter after winter and then say, “enough of this,” and move to California takes some pluck and then yields the warmth we hoped for. However, we may be conditioned to accept that our lives are not supposed to be comfortable. Likewise, we may believe that relationships will never work for us, that we are meant to be unhappy and unfulfilled. With that perspective, we may not be able to muster an “enough of this” when we find ourselves in pain. Instead we may ask ourselves, “Why bother?”

To live with abuse is dangerous because it can make our wish to suffer equal in strength to our will to be safe. We think, “Nothing I can do will stop him from hurting me,” or “Nothing I can do will make her love me.” A frightening conclusion can result: “Nothing matters, and I don’t care.” Such deep despair can take the form of poor self-esteem, disease, distortion of the body by overeating, self-abuse, addiction, risky jobs or hobbies, accident-proneness, anorexia, the belief that we can’t improve our lives, and so on. These all boil down to a wish to die. We might even seek relationships that guarantee protection against having to look at or process our issues. A partner may be appealing to us precisely because he implicitly promises that we will never have to confront, process, and resolve any issue very deeply, never have to change an intimacy-defeating style. We may think, “He is superficial and just as scared to confront things as I am, so I am safe here.” In such relationships we forge a tacit bargain to be what Emily Dickinson’s poem calls “Shiverers round Farmers’ doors” awaiting a “reluctant Crumb.”]

david richo, from how to be an adult in relationships: the five keys to mindful loving, 2002

[theambitiouswoman]

how do you deal with shame? bc i suffered with severe depression and im just getting my own apartment at 30 years old. i still have no degree, the job i go to in ashamed everyday even though it pays my bills and take care of my kids because i see everyone who i went to high school with graduated and some got their masters. im ashamed of what i been through and ashamed of where im in at my life and im carrying deep deep depression and shame because i feel like im not enough and embarrassed of where im at because i know i could’ve did more with my life.

I really want to answer this because I also remember feeling behind at one point and I definitely remember my friends comparing themselves to me because we didn’t make the same life decisions.

Just want to warn you I’m going to give you some compassion combined with a little tough love.

I’m really, REALLY sorry you’re feeling this way. No matter how different your life looks to others, it’s your life. It’s easy to compare yourself to people who seem to have it all figured out, but their paths aren’t yours. Just because you are seeing someone during the good times in their lives, doesn’t mean it will always be that way or that it won’t be for you when the time is right.

I remember feeling so much judgment because all my friends were married, had serious boyfriends, or kids. Back then, I’d leave our dinners in tears, feeling like a failure. Looking back now, the pressure I felt seems almost comical, but it was painful at the time. For context, I’ve been engaged more than once, yet I wasn’t ready to settle. Now, many of those women are divorced and starting over, often without financial independence, while I’m at a high point in my life and considering settling down on my own terms.

The lesson here is that life isn’t a race or a checklist. It’s not linear, and it doesn’t have to follow a timeline. Some people hit their stride at 20, others at 30, 40, or beyond—and that’s okay. Life is meant to be experienced, not rushed. The lessons we learn along the way shape us. Society’s timelines and standards are just that—standards. You don’t have to follow them to live a fulfilling, meaningful life.

Depression is incredibly hard to deal with, and it’s not something I take lightly. But since you’re committed to working on yourself, it’s so important to remind yourself to keep pushing forward. That said, I think you’re being way too hard on yourself right now. Who wouldn’t feel overwhelmed? But let’s take a step back—you have your own apartment for the first time, which is incredible! You have a job that allows you to provide for your kids, putting food on the table and showing up as a parent who loves them deeply. How lucky are they to have you?

From my perspective, you’re incredibly strong. You’ve faced depression and still found the courage to keep building yourself up. That’s no small feat. Don’t let negative thoughts get in your way—practice reframing them. Instead of focusing on what you feel is lacking, focus on how far you’ve come and the amazing things you’re doing right now. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

You may not like where your life is now, but you have to realize that it is under your control. If you want to change your life now, today, you can. Your life will start to change when you yourself commit to change. And that starts with your thoughts. Work on your perspective. Don’t beat yourself up for what could have happened or didn’t happen because you’re wasting even more time for absolutely nothing. You feel like you’ve wasted years, why would you want to continue wasting any more?

Shame often stems from the story we tell ourselves, so try to shift that narrative. You wouldn’t shame your friends for struggling; you’d remind them of their resilience. Focus on small wins— change your perspective. Start focusing on showing gratitude for the things you do have and what you’ve overcome. Gratitude for everything and anything. Gratitude attracts miracles and abundance. I know this sounds dumb or unrealistic, but it’s true. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to try.

I’m very proud of you and you can do so much more, anything you want if you just had a little bit of faith in yourself. Your worth isn’t defined by what you’ve been through or what you’ve accomplished. It’s defined by the fact that you’re here, trying and pushing forward. That alone makes you more than enough.

[nonranghaes]

"my prince..." your armor clinks as you shift your weight, hand resting atop the sword at your hip. "we need to keep going."

the words seem heavier than usual coming from you, punctuated with a quiet sigh. you stand near him, watching the careful way felix weaves flowers together to make a crown. chris is patrolling not too far away, but felix doesn't care much. yes, he knows you two are here to keep him safe... but what's the point now? this is the last thing he wants to do. he almost wishes someone would stroll out of the woods and steal him away, enough that you could chase after him and earn his hand in marriage. or that a doppelganger would wander up, and chris could continue the journey on alone with this other-felix while the two of you built a little cabin somewhere overlooking the flower fields...

instead, someone else is waiting to wed him. felix just presses his lips together tighter, hands fumbling a little with a flower. your kneel beside him, hands coming to cover his own for a moment.

"please don't be upset, felix," you say, quieter this time, the intimacy of using his name not lost on him. "this is all my fault."

he shakes his head. "you didn't force me to fall in love with you."

for a moment, you just shut your eyes. he knows you want to refute it so, so badly. to shoulder the burden so he can do what he has to do for his kingdom. all he does is reach up to crown you, all of the pretty colors lifeless compared to how beautiful he finds you. and when he kisses you, you don't shy away.

"let's run away when we get to the city," is what tumbles past his lips. and although you open your eyes and go to speak, felix shakes his head. "i love you. i... i don't think i can live without you." he squeezes your hands tight. "and if i can, then i don't want to."

you've already thought about this before. "we can't come back, felix."

"i know." he hates it. he hates that there's no winning here, not like in the chess games that you often throw, just to see him smile when he wins. the card games that you help him win by teaming up with him against chris. in the way he won your heart, although he still hasn't figured out how he managed to do that. "you don't have to--"

"chris?" you turn, calling out to him. "we're leaving."

and the grin on chris's face says everything. "y'know, i was wondering when he'd actually commit to it." he's rushing back over. he pats the horses gently, and looks at you one last time. "well... let's steal ourselves a prince."

[csuitebitches]

On Getting Rid of Your Inferiority Complex

You can take advice from everyone and every book you read, but no one can protect you proactively, unless you choose to protect yourself. Only you can do that for yourself. Your parents, friends, partner can support you emotionally but you need to stop relying so much on external validation.

When you’re making a choice that you know is going to be detrimental to your health, whether its physical, mental or emotional - such as going back to your ex, not taking the next steps for your career/ education - you need to think more about your (near) future self and make sure that she’s also comfortable. You need to think long term.

As we grow up, we often encounter situations that we’ve been in before to some degree, there’s somewhat a pattern to them. It’s time to start recognising them early and leave when you see the red flags waving.

By breaking your own word that you’ve made to yourself you’re making the inferiority complex worse. Because you’re showing to your subconscious mind that you don’t matter at all. Others do.

It could be something “small” such as going out clubbing with your friends because you couldn’t say no - and having an important presentation due the next day. It could be something “big” such as breaking off a difficult relationship, and still going back to them.

When we suffer from an inferiority complex, we idolise people around us and think they’re better than us in every way. We choose to see the best in them- just the way we choose to see the worst in ourselves.

At some point, we have had enough and decide to start improving ourselves. How do we do this? By improving ourselves in areas that you feel left out in.

Such as, seeing an influencer live your dream life. Now you’ll do everything you can to live like her because you think that once you achieve that, everything will be great. You try to improve in areas that have no direct relation to your inferiority complex.

You’ll try work on these things - while that can be in a way good because it’s alright to have a dream life and motivation for it, that doesn’t fix the inferiority issue.

Because the inferiority issue solely comes from lack of confidence and trust in yourself. Even if you get your ideal life like that influencer, that confidence won’t last long and you’ll find something else to panic about - you’ll compare yourself to your peers, or the anxiety of jobs after or the next shiny thing you want.

To actually combat inferiority issues you HAVE to build a connection with yourself. True confidence will only come when you connect with yourself with things that aren’t material things.

You need to cultivate a growth mindset and genuinely believe that you WILL get better with time, you WILL get smarter with time, you will improve your talent over time. You have to detach yourself from outcomes, whether positive or negative and just take it as life.

And this doesn’t happen overnight. It takes consistent effort to not feel fomo anymore or feel shitty.

You have to stop hesitating putting yourself first, putting your emotional needs first, standing up for yourself and saying a big fuck you to things that deserve it.

Not everything that you have today will be permanent in your life and that’s something you have to come to terms with.

But if your worth is fully dependent on other people, then you really need to sit down with yourself and start actually working on the relationship that matters the most - the one with yourself.

You’re intimidated by these influencers or the people who you want to be like, not because they wear designer bags, have cool outfits, vacations, boyfriends, girlfriends - but because they often have a very strong sense of identity.

They express what they like and don’t like. They don’t change themselves depending on the person in front of them. If there’s something they want, they go and get it. They pursue what makes them happy.

When do you plan on doing that for yourself?

So how do you do it?

You need to build a strong sense of self identity.

How? By dating yourself. Ask yourself questions that you would ask someone on a first date. What are your answers? These answers will not remain the same over time and they shouldn’t either. Here are some as a guide:

1. What do you like in general?

2. What do you dislike in general?

3. List all the things you like about yourself

4. List all the things you can improve about yourself

5. Where would you ideally want to be in 2 years?

6. What sort of a life do you wish you had right now?

Next step is continue dating yourself. Aim for one new experience a week. It doesn’t have to be major. It could be something simple such as a cooking a meal you’ve never made, solving crossword puzzles, trying to grow herbs, colouring books. With new experiences, you learn something about yourself, which allows you further build a connection with yourself. Literally date yourself.

Take care of yourself the way you would care for a partner. How do you want to be cared for? What makes you feel loved and appreciated? Show yourself the same things too.

[crabsnpersimmons]

I know those Eclipse posts are tagged 'suggestive' as in, yknow. But my brain keeps suggesting that Eclipse wants to literally eat us. Hannible Lector style.

...

Anyways I'd let him.

LOL

well

Hannibal Lecter is a chef 😏

Fun fact: early on while i was still figuring out the details of the AU, i did consider going for a mystery/thriller kind of story.

the main theme of the AU is the identities we present in public vs. our true, genuine selves—and what happens when we neglect our ourselves (mirroring how we can nurture or neglect ourselves with food)

Sun and Moon’s personalities were actually going to be closer to their canon depiction, only to reveal later that they’re very different—Sun doesn’t feel emotions and he’s only acting cheerful and bubbly, while Moon pretends to be cool and aloof but is hungry for attention and love.

and Eclipse? he wasn’t going to be a main part of the story until later. he was going to be the “skeleton” in their closet, literally locked up in the basement of the restaurant because unlike Sun and Moon, he can’t act. After Eclipse’s code was taken to make Sun and Moon, something changed in Eclipse and he became… uninhibited and wild. In a sense, all of them believe that they are broken and incomplete because they’re all programmed with scraps of code. (in my mind it was like: Sun has no heart, Moon as no brain, and Eclipse has no control). Sun and Moon try to make the best of their new lives as chefs, but Eclipse wants out and he wants to be whole again… even if that means getting rid of Sun and Moon.

why i didn’t go with that story?

my control group of friends really liked charming waiter Eclipse—and that wouldn’t work if Eclipse was locked up in the basement 😂

also, it’s already hard enough to suspend your belief that 3 robots can run a small restaurant, it’s even harder to believe that 2 robots can too 😅 and YEAH they can have human employees, but Sun and Moon would have to make sure those human employees stayed out of the basement and i’d also have to create a cast of new characters, which i didn’t really feel like doing 😂

i also just couldn't come up with a compelling end-game. call me basic, i like a happy ending. i like characters learning about themselves and finding love. and i direction the old story was going just wasn't as compelling for me compared to the current direction of the AU

i liked the old idea, but i'm also very happy with the silly trio as they are now. the story may not be as dark, but their characters are still deep and complex, and now with the added benefit of being fun and silly!

[jellogram]

It's been seven months and I still think about I Saw the TV Glow.

We're used to two kinds of queer films: socially conscious tragedies and feel-good fluff. This one defies those categories. It is the horror that only queer people can see.

Most queer tragedies focus on external threats. The straight audience needs violence they can see, they need someone against whom they can compare themselves. There is always a bigot they can point to and say "I won't be like that! And I'm a good person because I'm not like that!"

Meanwhile, all the queers can see is the suffering of someone like us. We are denied the ability to project ourselves onto the screen and into that kind of self-gratification. We're just a psychological obstacle for the straights to overcome so they can blossom.

The fluffy feel-goods aren't much better, but it's an attempt. We deserve happiness, and some kindhearted filmmakers want to portray it. But most queers know this is surface-level fantasy that doesn't accurately reflect our lives.

Enter I Saw the TV Glow. Every bit as horrific and hard-to-watch as a queer tragedy, but now the call is coming from inside the house. It's not about bigotry, but it's still about violence. It's about the violence we inflict on ourselves, the violence we experience at the hands of our own minds.

It's about the way we box up our thoughts. Every reluctant queer knows how to compartmentalize. You don't touch this box in front of your parents. You don't touch this box in public. You don't touch this box at all. We know how it goes.

In previous queer films, the horror comes when someone else finds that box. They look at you and suspect you have a box, so they find it and pry it open and that's when the violence begins.

Because... the straights cannot see the boxes. They only begin to exist for them when they're opened. So when they set out to make their well-meaning, socially conscious films, they begin at the moment the box becomes visible to them, unaware that they've missed most of the horror.

But for us queers, the horror started long ago. It started the first moment we thought "Am I..... no." It started the moment we shoved that thought into the box, threw it in the attic, and tried to forget about it.

I Saw the TV Glow is about that box. It's about the horror of having such a box. You can't open it. You can't even think about it. You just pretend it isn't there until it grows dense black mold that blows into your vents and drives you mad.

Eventually, most queers open the box and deal with whatever we find inside it. Some of us don't, and the rest of us understand why. But all of us know the horror of having such a box, and how it starts with that first frightening thought and continues until the box is torn open.

And yet, in spite of that horror, the movie is hopeful. You can always open the box. Until the day you die, you can open the box. It will never leave you. Its indestructibility might feel scary, but it also means there's no deadline for opening it, so all is never lost. This particular violence is self-inflicted, yes, but that also means that you can be the one to end it.

But you can only do that by gritting your teeth, and opening the box.

So that's what I Saw the TV Glow is about, and it's why we need more queer filmmakers, and it's why I will never, ever forget this film.

[seat-safety-switch]

Like any honest, well-adjusted human being, I've often had reason in my life to daydream about owning my own 1,600-ton sheet metal press. I don't want to have to go to the junkyard for a fourth time this weekend just because I forgot the passenger door is also rusted out.

Why should the automakers have all the fun? Sure, they have millions upon millions of dollars, whereas I have about fifteen bucks in my wallet. They have enormous facilities capable of serving the mechanical and electrical demands of such an intense machine, and I have a motorcycle gas tank on my kitchen table because there's simply nowhere else to put it. Automakers can source kilometers-long rolls of precision-engineered high-strength steel, and I think I might be able to weld some stolen road signs together with enough advance notice. This, it turns out, is all details compared to the big problem with setting up my own autobody foundry in my backyard: the noise.

Yes, friends. Like in many well-meaning jurisdictions all across this once-great land, the bigwigs at City so-called Hall have decided to stick their noses where they don't belong. Regulating that residential neighbourhoods are not allowed to operate massive industrial machinery in the backyards is against what the founding motherfathers intended when they stole this country from the people who were already living there. Back then, people made wagon wheels in their backyard. They didn't have the luxury of going on RockAuto and ordering them from a distant trading partner, somewhere that they still built things.

What am I saying? We need to shake up government in this country. I envision a world in which the government pays you to punch out new tailgates for a 1993 F-150, immaculate bumperettes for a Valiant, and rust-free patch panels for Escorts. They will tell you it can't be done, which is even more proof that we need to go do it ourselves. If you manage to find someone willing to back this political project, send them by my house. I'll be there all weekend trying to figure out where the Princess Auto warranty on $10 hydraulic bearing presses and $3 ball-peen hammers becomes invalid.

[thecurioustale]

My Review & Commentary of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

This post contains two reviews of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, a new novel by Rob aka @nostalgebraist.

Above the fold is a short, comprehensive review, intended mainly for general audiences. This review is spoiler-free.

Below the fold is over 70 pages (~40k words, some of which are book excerpts) of line-by-line real-time commentary, intended mainly for Rob. This review contains full spoilers. Do not click on “Keep Reading” if you do not want spoilers.

My Review of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

The basic proposition is that this is a Christmas story. No surprise; that’s why Rob published it on Christmas after a furious push to be done on-time. The story takes place more or less entirely within the month of December of an unspecified year, and the passage of the month is the progression of the story. It is divided mainly between two narrators: Herschel Schoen, and his sister Miriam Schoen, the latter existing mainly to contextualize the former (which she herself notes with some resentment).

The plot is a fairly straightforward Les Miserables style pressure cooker of growing personal and societal wretchedness bent around the equally-growing idea of some grand, world-changing, revolutionary transformation that is imminent—in this case, supposedly on Christmas. It’s a decent plot, but the plot isn’t the principal reason to engage with the story, in my opinion, and in any case it’s not what most of the novel actually consists of.

For principal reasons to read this fairly hefty thing, I think there are two:

First, and probably the more important of the two, is that The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen is a veritable case study in the lived experience of someone (Herschel) whose brain works and perceives reality very differently from the human norm. He is high-functioning but still quite disabled and deeply mentally ill. “Case study” sounds clinical; this is actually a fairly warm, humanized story—with some very touching moments peppered throughout. But the sheer effort Rob made to depict Herschel’s mindset and thinking for the benefit of the reader is absolutely a tour de force in psychology. I’ve never read anything like it, and, if you read this book for no other reason than its “clinical” value, you would not be wrong to do so.

Second, and the more personally meaningful of the two reasons, is that this book gives you the opportunity to get “Herschel’s side” of things. I used biomedical terms just now to describe Herschel, but that’s not entirely fair, and it’s not the only way to look at him. We all have our reasons for being how we are. And we all of us, even those who are highly neurodivergent ourselves, often look at those whose minds work very differently from our own through the lens of division: them versus us. There is a failure to empathize, to understand, to even give ourselves the chance to understand. Herschel has built up, over the course of his short sixteen years on the Earth, this extraordinary paracosm, his “little world” as Miriam calls it, which he believes in totally and which he projects onto the real world completely. And this paracosm is very similar to the real world in many ways,which causes and/or exacerbates many of Herschel’s social developmental problems. (And we have his sister, Miriam Schoen, throughout the book, to gently lampshade all of this and keep us from accidentally conflating Herschel’s worldview with Rob’s narrative, which ultimately are two separate things.) I think The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen is highly validating of Herschel Schoen; I think that it dignifies him heavily, and all such people in the real world whose “special needs” can be compared to his; even though this book also displays in full detail many of the things about people like Herschel Schoen that so often make us cringe. Herschel is cringeworthy quite often, and his delusional paracosm may just be a delusional paracosm after all, but he—and it—are not illegitimate.

There is a third reason to engage, one with a much more niche appeal, but personally it was my favorite thing about the book: Herschel speaks in the “old” style. We often describe it as a “biblical” style of speech (e.g., “And he went out, and smote his enemy at the bridge, and laid waste to his temples, until all the love of fighting had bled out from its defenders, and the enemy’s people were subdued in shame and despair.”), but it’s really just how a lot of English writing used to be done. Tolkien could do it, and it’s in many of the old classics. I absolutely LOVE this style of writing. Love love love it, and I am always wanting to see more of it in the present day, but of course nobody but me even dares try. Well, here we go: Rob tried it! He pulls off this outrageous shit for the entire book! What you see in Herschel’s style of speech and thought in the first few pages is what you get for the whole count. It’s legendary! I love it! But if you don’t love it, then beware.

Thematically, this is a Christmas story, like I said. It’s a family story, with an especially strong focus on the brother–sister bond between Herschel and big sister Miriam. Another theme is that it’s a pretty anti-capitalist story—though I think this theme, and its literal treatment in the text and especially in character dialogue, was not integrated super well or executed authentically; it works okay on the meta level as a way of setting the conditions for the story, but on the literal level I found its exponents very anti-immersive in their dialogue, almost cartoonish. A third noteworthy theme is that there are some occasional matters of artificial intelligence (it’s part of how Herschel defines his “Adversary” early in the book), because this is nostalgebraist after all and we would expect such things. A fourth significant theme is that this is quite a “New York story,” the kind of story set in New York [City], written by someone who has been a New Yorker, and which for all intents and purposes treats New York as the center of, and nearly the entirety of, the Universe. This book has a lot of deliberate non-specificity in culture and language, presumably to make it timeless, but New York is there effortlessly, because, in New York stories, New York City is a fundamental property of the Universe.

I would be remiss not to mention a few pain points on my part:

First and foremost, Rob’s use of italics and, to a lesser extent, ALLCAPS, is exhausting. Italics function like commas in that they slow down the parsing of text. If you actually do parse italicizations loyally, as I do, and do not simply skip over them as visual noise, then this book might be extremely laborious for you to physically read, as it was for me. I am a deep admirer and avid user of italics myself, but this novel takes italicization almost to its furthest useful extreme possible, well beyond the limits of fine proportionality, and the italics’ sheer preponderance vastly slows down my parsing of the narrative. Nor is there much of a reprieve in the chapters where Miriam is narrating; she’s exactly the same way. In fact basically everyone in the book talks like this. I don’t reject the creative decision to utilize italics in this manner; it’s a valid creative decision; I only caution you that, if you take the italics and allcaps respectfully, they will seriously slow down your pace of reading—as they did for me.

Second, I recommend that you not worry about the time period in which this book is set. Rob made it deliberately vague and contradictory, but he didn’t telegraph this (that I saw), and so I was frustrated throughout almost the entire book trying to pin down when it was set. Turns out its time period doesn’t matter for story purposes, and can’t be dated anyway since there are anachronisms deliberately put into the milieu to make dating impossible. It’s got a little of everything from the 1950s through the present day. So, don’t worry about it. This pain point is my only truly negative large-scale criticism of the story in its entirety (though the unconvincing quality of some of the anti-capitalist dialogue is also a truly negative criticism, merely much more limited in applicability, and there are other serious negative criticisms I have which become manifest in the spoiler commentary below the fold).

Third, I would say that the third quartile of the book is harder to read than the rest. In large part this is because Miriam’s narrative becomes as exhausting as her brother’s as her own suffering increases, but it is exhausting in a completely different way, and the two different exhaustions interfere constructively to make something even more exhausting. The long chapters in particular—most of the book’s word count is contained in a few very long chapters—are quite exhausting indeed for reading in one sitting, so if your mind slows down or wanders I would recommend getting up and doing other things, then coming back with a fresh mind later. The text would really benefit from your full and energetic attention, otherwise I think this book becomes enough of a slog to become antagonistic to the reader. But with a fresh mind, this problem largely goes away. And I must say: This pain point is not a negative criticism. This is the price of engaging with smart work, sometimes. As with the use of italics and allcaps, I see no creative failing on Rob’s part here. You just have to do your part, make your effort, to be in a suitable frame of mind to receive it.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. I did not enjoy it as much as The Northern Caves, Rob’s other novel that I have read, because that book contains Leonard Salby’s glorious indecipherable writing, which has been a major creative inspiration for me. The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen has lots to offer, however. Be aware that it is a heavy read, not a light one, and thus it is draining. Rob is a rare treat of an author in that his work is highly intellectual (rare all on its own!) without being literarily pretentious and snobby—but this means that it is no trivial thing to read and absorb his work. Also to his credit, this book kept me guessing all the way through, which I appreciate—I respect it when plots and characters refuse to let me put them in a container early on. And of course this book contained all of the good things I have already said about it.

DO NOT click “Keep Reading” unless you are prepared for spoilers, bad formatting, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth of confronting 70 pages of commentary.

Psych! 73 pages is way too much for Tumblr's post limits. Here is a Google Doc instead:

This document will be available online for the time being but may not be public indefinitely, so feel free to download a copy if you like.

[fluffybutt-7]

Hey y’all. I’m gonna say this for whoever needs to hear it, but also for myself.

What a fucking year. If you managed to make it through in one piece, I’m so proud of you. So much has happened in the world and in our lives, and sometimes it can be really hard to navigate but you DID IT. If you didn’t hit your weight goals this year, that is okay. You are still valid as a gainer, feeder/feedee, however you identify - if you feel it, then you are. If you gained a little bit and decided that was enough, that is okay. You don’t have to gain “the freshman 150” to be a gainer. Period.

It’s so easy to get caught up in challenges and wanting to gain quick and keep up with others in the community, but don’t forget that this is your journey, no one else’s. It’s also so easy to compare ourselves to others in the community, especially friends and people we love - it is so painful to do, and so hard to navigate the guilt and complicated feelings that can come with it. I see you, and I want you to know that it’s okay. We are all learning and figuring ourselves out along the way, and I hope that the gentleness of loving yourself through your own journey soothes the stress of comparison; truly, it is the thief of joy.

But you made it through this year, regardless. If you lost weight and are grieving that, I see you, I’m with you, and I want you to know that you are still you, still worthy, and still fucking beautiful. Our bodies do so much for us, please be kind to yourself at any size.

We made it. You made it. And that, is enough. Whatever this next year brings, I hope it comes to you softly - like the sunlight filtering in on a calm morning, and that it reminds you of your capability, your softness, your strength, and your love.

All my love, to each and every one of you-

Cam/Fluff~

[brightideathepunny]

Your sister introduced me to your YouTube channel and I love your puns. I used to be a brony and your MLP videos brought me down memory lane. (Even though I only saw the thumbnails lol)

You may remember me from asking your sister what it's like to be a twin, and now I want to hear your opinion on the matter. (Even if it's similar to hers) Consider it research for my upcoming novel.

Thank you for your question! Sorry it's taken me a long time to respond to your ask, I'm not nearly as active on Tumblr as my twin ^^;

I do remember @bettinalevyisdetermined responding to this question before, but not exactly what she said on her blog, so here are my own thoughts on

What it's like being a twin:

Growing up together, I knew we had something special that went beyond the typical sibling bond (we have a younger brother who we love dearly, but that love is so different). We were constant companions from baby-hood, what else can compare? Having someone to DO life with from the start feels like it made life easier for me to handle. If you saw one of us, the other one was never far behind. I always had someone close by who knew exactly what I was dealing with in life, because she was living it too. We explored, played pretend, lost baby teeth, learned to ride bikes, navigated family stuff, read the same books, watched the same movies and shows, solved the same puzzles, laughed at the same jokes. Not all the time, but definitely most of the time, whatever we did, it was together. We were separated in school from kindergarten-2nd grade, so we had different teachers and classmates and projects to do, but our parents started homeschooling us after our 2nd grade was over, so we spent even more time together and loved it.

Sharing is something that feels like we've always done instinctively, from sharing a birthday to bedroom space, toys, clothes, food, time, tastes...so much of what we had was ours rather than mine/hers. Even when people gave us individual gifts, we'd still often find ways to use them or enjoy them together. When we were old enough to dress ourselves, for awhile we would keep wearing the same things, as we would when we were little, or wear the same type of clothes but different colors, though starting somewhere around adolescence, we did find our own unique, preferred styles, eventually.

I remember my identity used to be so wrapped up in twin-ness, I had a hard time imagining any life without Bettina by my side. Around the time we were learning to drive and getting our learner's permits, that's when I got my first set of glasses, and I remember being quite upset because I would look different from my sister. Looking back on it, it's kinda silly, because we'd already been different for a long time, with our emerging personalities and slight but noticeable physical distinctions, such as a couple inches difference in height. As we grew up and sought independence from our family and cultivated our own relationships with other people (platonic and romantic), we learned that our twin-ness was still very special, but not the end-all be-all I used to believe it was.

The past couple of years we've gotten to attend the amazing Twin's Days Festival in Twinsburg, Ohio. Getting to know other people who are twins who've either lost their twin or aren't on good terms with their twin makes me appreciate the relationship I have with my twin even more. We stay in touch with each other as much as we can, but of course life gets busy sometimes, on both our ends.

Januarys always make me feel self-reflective, so this was an excellent question to mull over. Thinking about "what has being a twin meant to me" makes me feel all the things, happy that I can still reach out to my sister whenever I like, sad that we don't physically hang out as often as we used to, proud of all she and I have done in our respective lives, and excited to make more memories with her. No matter how much time passes, she and I can always pick up where we left off; even though we're long distance these days, we remain incredibly close. She's my twin sister, apart from me, and yet no less a part of me.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry, meus cupitus - TSH

TW: gore, toxicity

Where do I even begin? I should start by mentioning that this little piece was inspired by multiple books including but not limited to: "The Meek One" by Dostoyevsky, "Lolita" by Nabokov, "American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis and "The Iliad" by the one and only Homer.

This is the toned-down version. I felt that the original was much too explicit to post, but nevertheless it will continue to live in my drafts. Keep in mind, that this version may still be incredibly violent for a part of the audience. Read at your own risk.

Henry, meus cupitus, the last season of the year. My sin, my soul. Henry Winter marching down the banks with his umbrella and books.

He was Henry when we spent our weekends at Francis’ country house, rowing on the lake, finding out about the moon landing. Henry Winter was him, spreading around campus like a dark November mist or in Julian’s attentive green eyes. But he was and still is Henry Marchbanks Winter ever since my ears listened to the convoluted story of the scar; ever since he started forgetting the Latin diary in my sight; ever since our ἕνωσις.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what right have you to judge me? No one should speak of love in the third person, for it is intangible, running so differently through our bones, that it mimics our soul’s very rhythm and so drowns each of us with unique scents, extorted from the desire for which we spill blood. And yet, here it is, my poor heart standing trial for its depth. Little lords and gentlewomen of the jury, I urge you to be magnanimous and instead ask yourself: how will I ever stay behind all on my own? 

We met at Hampden. Our fates intertwined unexpectedly, gloriously, under the pressure of Julian’s classes and consequently under his guiding gaze. We were each other’s equal, neither of us possessing the ability to surpass the other. Though our views on matters weren’t, generally speaking, that different we still somehow managed to find little details so insignificant that the vast majority forget. What I believed in he stood against. What he stated I debated. A continuous chase between cat and mouse, except neither of us hid in walls. Oh, please, listen, how beautifully we were at each other’s throat with winged words whispered by Pallas Athene herself! With every class, my desire to stomp on his toes, to cut out his tongue and compare it to mine, to reduce him to absolute submission grew. As I’m sure did his. My only wish, which Zeus who drives the storm clouds later granted me, was to have him under my despotism. It was sickly divine and it consumed my insides raw. 

Fate is funny in its own sadistic way. And so, despite everything, despite every warning that I’m sure his precious guts gave him, he fell in stride with me. Dangerous, obsessive me. Slowly, with every argument we lost ourselves in the other’s carefully crafted web, our souls moving to do their twisted dance. We couldn’t stop and certainly, we did not want to stop mixing that which made us two. The knot of selves was but a mere preamble to the waltz of unification we performed under the influence of all the gods above. 

Now, most esteemed jury, that you understand the extent of our strange relationship, I can begin to narrate the following events: his demise (and the attempt of mine). I’ll tell it as I myself see fit and understand. That’s the horror of it for me, that I understand everything.

On October 11th of a certain year which I fail to recall, we were sitting against each other on the couch in his apartment, talking, quietly laughing, wasting our minds with wine as one does during the exam period. Take note, that Henry is reserved while his usual self, however, alcohol slightly enables the more emotive side of him. Through our conversation, he grew serious. I didn’t have to ask I knew he was going to tell me.

“You ruin me. You must know since you keep doing it.” Henry mumbled under his breath.  “You lurk through the darkest depths of my mind,” I looked at him, his expression a mirror of mine “I wander dazed, like Hades’ dead undead, unable to form a single coherent thought.” He scoffed. “You are my worst nightmare.” 

I remember closing my eyes for a moment. Knowing he was suffering because of me filled me with bliss. I could see that he was terribly irritated with his emotions, but I wasn’t going to soften anything. Oh no, on the contrary, seeing him in such a state made me deliberately want to intensify it. And then I opened my eyes only to find him, him, holding a knife to my throat.

“This has to stop.” He said solemnly, yet my gaze fell on his shaky hand. “I don’t want to plague my rationality further with you.”

I knew that all he had was his mind. And so, when I felt the sharp metal press against my neck; when I saw his determined, icy gaze I knew I had to twirl around him again. To prove to him that we are far from equals, that I am the sublime.

“You don’t have to love me.” I started out almost desperately, though it was only a trick, I assure you.  “Don’t answer me anything, don’t take any notice of me at all, and only let me look at you from the corner, turn me into your thing, into your little dog..” I whispered.

With his thumb, he wiped away the wetness falling from my eyes (not tears). He was distracted and so I gripped his arm turning it away from my throat and towards his chest. He reacted and used his force to push it in my face. I stopped it with my free hand just before the tempting edge deflated my round eye and all the liquid from it spilled on my face. However, doing so, Henry did severe my ring finger. It ripped from the last jagged skin and juicy flesh that held it tied to my stained hand, fell on the sofa and rolled down onto Henry’s oriental rug with a barely audible thump, all while leaving dark red stains behind. I got up and used my body to push him to the ground. I step on my lost finger. It lets out a crack. He drops the knife due to the force and I get my greedy hands on it. He hurried to get up but I straddled his hips and kissed him, pushing my wet tongue into his warm mouth. I lost myself in it and I only snapped out of my daze when I felt his thick blood staining my skin. Drip, drop, little ladybugs everywhere. 

I opened my eyes only to find his, or rather my, icy eyes still staring at me. What was left of my finger I dipped in blood and licked it. The glorious taste of his fluids mixed with mine exploded on my tongue and a voice whispered. And I believed it blindly, madly, terribly.

You all whom you believe yourself above me, pitiless hermaphrodites, inquire endlessly about the location of his body. It is not good manners to insist. Settle down, brutes, I’ll give you a clue just so you’ll leave me alone to mourn.

I listened to the voice that sang so sweetly in my ear. That is where his body is, in eternity with me.

Pass judgment on me, for that is why you’re here. However, you all are witnesses to my ‘crimes’, so judge yourself too, with the guidance of the Gods, for every accusation that leaves your wretched lips is a cast of your own dark depths. Answer if you are without sin: is it wrong to prove yourself to the one you love?