#pointless microblogging

[bluastro-yellow]

cat on the pillow!

[bluastro-yellow]

I laughed at this, put my phone down, and capsized my chair getting up

[gioia-rodica]

No guys you have no idea how close I was to stirring up pointless discourse today. But I didn't. I deserve a ribbon and everything.

[seerofspxce]

Forgot about this again.

[venovenous]

I just deleted a lot of pointless recent posts. my mental health is really poor right now and microblogging desperate, sad, angry things is not helping in any form. I miss my old therapist. I wonder if she would see me again. it's been a long time and i feel like a different person

[bluastro-yellow]

back in the 80(?)s my dad, who had a rock band, received a death threat letter from Mayhem themselves

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[psychosiren404]

Lilim L. | your most charming peccadillo 🐍

Erotic threat • Wordsmith • New media artist

French Sensual Femdom, Findom & Brainwashing specialist 🧠

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

musings, lore & self-shot sexual propaganda : welcome to my dominatrix diaries ✨

contents might cause out-of-control infatuation,

just let it happen.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

currently ON HIATUS | microblogging to reconnect with my pen.

inquiring about servitude would be pointless,

however I can’t stop you from laying cash at my feet just for the sake of it once you

fall down

my rabbithole.

so you’re free to head over here when you just can’t help it.

[skelkankaos]

i think tumblr has some kind of image recognition software going on. when i look at posts on my own blog (in the dashboard view) i get suggestions of posts from other people which have no tags or body text in common but are visually similar. especially notable on my pinned post which has no text whatsoever but has meme text in the image, and the suggested posts all are based on the same meme. that’s really interesting, and kind of a pointless feature, but what is tumblr if not the microblogging platform of pointless features

[lenbryant]

LONG RE-POST (NYT refrigerator magnet)

Lost in the Froth Oh, to have sycophants of one’s own. by Heather Havrilesky

My husband Bill and I were lying around in bed, reviewing the big blunders made by the second richest man in the world, previously heralded as a genius, now suspected of falling far short of that term. Bill was trying to figure out how a thing like this could happen. “It’s like you initially succeed by surrounding yourself with smart people,” he said, “but once you get super rich you surround yourself with sycophants.”

Then we both lay there silently, staring out the one very small window in our bedroom at tall oak trees shivering in the autumn wind, and tried to imagine smart people leaving and sycophants taking their places.

“I want that kind of money,” I said, finally.

“What would you do with it?”

“Surround myself with sycophants.”

I meant it. I would make the world’s best tech bro. I would build an office complex that looks just like that ice castle on the mountaintop in “Frozen,” and I would pack it full of yes men and flatterers and panderers and yes-yes-yes men. I’d wear an ice princess gown to work every morning and I’d glide through the corridors of my ice castle offices, singing Italian opera in my searing ice-princess voice.

Amarilli, mia bella,

Non credi, o del mio cor dolce desio

D’esser tu l’amor mio?

And even after my soul-lifting, world-altering technologies flopped and the kitchens in my glass offices were no longer stocked with kombuchas and microgreens and microbrews, and none of my 15 remaining yes men had the energy for micromanaging or microblogging or microwaving the last remaining lunch items in the glass kitchen cupboards, I’d still put on my gown and glide through those glass hallways and sing my morning KEEP YOUR SPIRITS UP! team-building, world-building memo in the form of an Italian opera:

Credilo pur: e se timor t’assale,

Dubitar non ti vale.

Aprimi il petto e vedrai scritto in core!

You might not know this, but ball gowns and Italian opera and a castle packed with fawning minions are the only surefire cures for burning out and losing it. If you think about it long enough — if you really meditate on how you, too, deserve to be flanked by a gaggle of sycophants — you might start to wonder how anyone puts their pants on in the morning without them.

This is why people get married and have kids: to create their own thriving microcosms of sycophants. Any spouse worth his weight in microchips doubles as a fawning yes man, a microanalyst dedicated to forecasting the microvariations in the microclimates of his betrothed’s micromoods, micromanaging every microscopic dip and variation in his true love’s micromindsets.

Later that day, at around 5 p.m., I find myself waiting in the very, very, very long drive-thru line at the Starbucks with my two teenagers. We have been sitting in the car for 30 minutes and counting. The line is barely moving. And suddenly I’m having one of those weird out-of-body, Talking Heads experiences where you look at yourself from a distance and you ask:

What bad life choices led a glorious ice princess to this sad fate?

Which brings us to the moral of our story: Anyone who aims to be flanked by sycophants eventually becomes one of them. Because what else explains landing in an eternal drive-thru line just because my teenagers experienced a few microseconds of unpleasantness in their brick fortresses of public education today, so now they’re craving pointless, expensive, frothy comfort? Why else would a former demigoddess willfully subject herself to such indignities, just to send a KEEP YOUR SPIRITS UP! team-building, world-building memo to her moody teens in the form of overpriced sugary foamy decaffeinated multi-flavored froth?

And what is it with froth these days? Why is froth so sought after? What warped values led us to this frothy crossroads in human history?

Well. It’s the emptiness, of course. It’s the bubbles of nothing that turn us on so much. Because even when you know your mommy is just a yes woman, micromanaging your micromoods with microscopic microbubbles, the emptiness of the gesture is what makes it so reassuring. Your mom is doing something deeply stupid and completely worthless for your benefit, kind of like when she lost track of the major plot points of “Attack On Titan” somewhere in the middle of the fourth season, but she still sang the theme song at the top of her lungs, every single time, in order to signal her total allegiance to ultraviolent cartoon sagas about gigantic cannibals.

Loyalty is perhaps best expressed in empty microgestures, bubbles of nothing, inside the volatile microclimate of family life and also inside the microcosm of friendship. “Tell me every pointless detail,” you say to your kid or your spouse or your true friend. “Let’s do something absolutely worthless together,” you murmur over a drink that ideally has froth on top of it.

This is the sweet sound of the sycophant. And everyone craves that kind of reassurance. Everyone wants to know that even when they’ve got absolutely nothing to offer, even when the world feels broken and they’re starting to lose it completely, they’ll still be adored like a gatekeeping gaslighting girl-boss in a sparkling ball gown in an ice castle on a snowy mountaintop. Everyone longs to gate-keep, gaslight, and girl-boss their way into complete isolation, the kind of isolation that can make you super stupid and deluded about your own importance.

Sitting in the Starbucks line for 30 minutes with the rest of the complete idiots in my town is sort of like turning myself into froth for the sake of love. I am saying, “I will take this utterly fruitless and impotent action, an abject waste of time and money and brain cells, to secure foamy inorganic chemical compounds devoid of nutrients, lacking any redeeming value or function, in order to signal my love for you.”

That’s devotion. You can show up empty-handed, feeling less than your full self, and you can trust that I will love you fiercely anyway. Take these empty microbubbles of nothingness and drink them as a symbol of my love for you. Enter my glass house. Put down your stones. Drink in the froth of my love. I’ve got nothing, and it’s all yours.

Heather Havrilesky writes the Ask Polly advice column on Substack and is the author of four books, most recently the memoir “Foreverland.”

[silentspaces]

in which I use this microblogging platform as an actual blog. there’s no rant, just rambling, because i just feel very out of sorts tonight for some reason. Very stream-of-consciousness, not really written for anyone to read. I’d put it on private, but then I’d lose it forever, just like the last couple of private posts I had made. XD

idk. sometimes you just don’t want to be at home--i guess tonight was one of those nights. i left in the late afternoon to go print and work on a last-minute editing job, but I ended up falling asleep in my car in front of the convenience store for 3 hours. maybe it was 3 hours. can’t be sure; the bright lights of the store interior erased all traces of time and my natural circadian rhythm. I then spent the next 4 hours in a diner, working while talking online, but even though it was hitting 11:30pm, I still didn’t feel ready to go home. one of the downsides of living in a countryside town is that almost everything closes at midnight, so I had to escape to either another convenience store or one of the 24-hour rice bowl places. I chose the former, opting to spend some time reading in my car, once again bathing in the white spotlight while reading a borrowed copy of Six of Crows. I haven’t read any other book in the series. As I read, I thought about how strange it felt to imagine a story where teenagers are the main characters--I work with teens every day, and let’s face it, they can be real dumbasses. There’s nothing like reality to break the illusion of fantasy. Even 3 years ago this kind of YA story wouldn’t have fazed me--in fact, I’m quite fond of the YA genre--but that was before I became intimately familiar with the high schooler psyche. I mourn the loss of my suspension of disbelief. Oh well, I won’t be in this job forever; maybe one day I’ll forget what teens are like, and I can slip back into YA fantasies without interrogating and criticizing its depiction of teenagers. Either that, or I’ve crossed some invisible threshold, and rather than some kind of loss of innocence, it’s a loss of connection to my own feelings as a teenager. Maybe it’s too far in my past for me to reach anymore. Maybe I’ve had to be the authority figure for too long, consciously separating myself from the idea of adolescence and performing adulthood, and I’ve become Robin William’s Peter Banning from Hook. Have I forgotten how to fly? It certainly feels that way sometimes---ever since my last job, it just feels like the part of me that experienced spontaneous wonder and joy got crushed beneath the heavy boot of workplace capitalism. The business world was not kind, and though I escaped, it feels more like my soul came back from a war, scarred and changed. Even my current job feels rote and routine, the city I live in feels like a narrow cage at times, and I no longer find myself randomly gazing happily at the morning light on my way to work. My sense of peace and serenity has disappeared in the last 5 years, replaced by...well, not a numbness, but just a continued state of being, punctured by deliberate excursions of fun and travel, like using a defibrillator on my life. Where’s the deeper meaning of it all? Why do I feel so disconnected from the universe? Sometimes I wonder if I should throw it all away and move back to the remote area I used to live in by the seaside. but would it be the same? could I find that spark for life again there? But the spark doesn’t originate from the place, it originates from the person, so if I can’t find it here, would it be pointless to move at all?

What do I want out of my life? Where do I see myself going? I can’t seem to hold onto this conversation with myself for more than 3 minutes. I just know that I don’t want here. But where do I want? And what do I want to be doing? Who do I want to be with? Is it loneliness that is eating away at me? Tonight, it felt like an Edward Hopper painting. That’s exactly what it felt like. After the second round in front of the convenience store, I went to Sukiya, a rice bowl place, and worked there for another hour or so. But the night felt empty, in limbo, but there was nothing to wait for. Both the restaurants I visited tonight had their fill of guests, and even the sky itself kept itself busy and alive for hours with silent lightning. But it didn’t quite seem to reach me, I a traveler in a reverse odyssey, trying to stay out of my home as long as I could. But as it reached 2am, I knew my time adrift in the liminal space was ending, and I finally drove home beneath the flashing darkness, past the mysterious red glow on the other side of the hills to my left, and the white haze to my right in the distance, a light that seemed as if it were being pressed down and contained by the night’s soft but firm hand of black. Everything was in a haze due to the remaining mist from the day’s rain; even the inside of my car kept a film of condensation all evening, only adding to the undefined and unformed quality of the space and time I experienced for the last few hours. Alas, I am home now, the crisp clacking of the keys and the faint chirp of the crickets outside bringing back definition to a very strange and vague night.

[bluastro-yellow]

overcompensatingly superstar harry misunderstanding "In the dark times, should the stars also go out?" thinking it means he shouldn't deprive the world of a mega superstar by killing himself. good for him I guess

[nividawebsolutions]

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[septembersghost]

my little chili babies. there is so much horrible, devastating news in the world, and then every day I get online and see this awful hatefulness and toxicity in fandom that is UTTERLY pointless and people sending others random hate anons, and I'm just...eternally baffled and sort of heart-achy about it...we are here to be silly and have fun and microblog about things that bring us joy or interest (this is why I do NOT understand critical/anti blogs, WHY do they want to spend precious energy every day focusing on something they hate? doesn't that stress them out? what's the point? what is the endgame for them other than being petulant children? yikes). call me a cupcake, but omg it is so much more pleasant to be chill with people and love your friends and be passionate about the unique things that give you an ounce of escape and a spark of inspiration in the midst of a lot of darkness and stress. the world is HARD, but we get to hang out with one another and post about stories and art! what a damn privilege. and I know I've said over and over that I didn't expect to have this much time, and every day I try to appreciate that and enjoy being with my beloveds and eke out whatever I have left before it slips away, and I am fully aware that it is naive to expect people to be compassionate in public on the internet, and heaven knows I get hurt and angry and frustrated by things I see too, but the respite I find in posting things that give me consolation does help! idk there's no conclusive point to this other than to say we hold onto what we've got while we've got it, and there's nothing wrong with caring about things or seeking gentleness in your own space. how lucky we are to be alive right now.

[contaiinedarmageddon2]

❌ Sollux getting crushed under a lorge troll lady’s rear of your choice, so long as she’s doing it intentionally X3

As a result of his strange status in life (and unlife) Sollux had strange relationships with others. One of the strangest had formed with Her Imperious Condescension, a being once of nearly pure mythology to him as a wiggler. Theoretically with a skillset like his he could have contacted her long before the game and its fallout, but the consequences for even the slightest error would've been unthinkable. Besides, who would have guessed the Empress of all troll kind, revered nearly as a goddess, would be such a glutton for social media?

By the time certain microblogging platforms had shattered that illusion, Sollux was a long ways past being concerned with little things like consequences anyways. From there he'd discovered that for the most part, he liked talking to her. The yellowblood had a certain mix of eagerness to please mixed with self depreciation that complimented an ego as enormous as the Condesce's. A habit of making extremely stupid decisions resulting in a break from the drudgery if nothing else also aided in keeping things interesting. Though it was for the best that he was rarely within retaliation range whenever he took it too far.

Megalomaniac she might be, but the Condesce was no fool either. While it helped that she could easily beat anything she couldn't outsmart, a healthy amount of outsmarting kept her from having to get her hands dirty more than was entertaining. The implications of the wider reality the strange platform provided a window into were disturbing, and if the lowblood’s abilities and experience was half what he reported, then she could endure the attention. Alternia’s empire was brutal but also highly sophisticated, and the imperial technology core could bring a developed planet to its knees in a week. But even they suffered a few cullings after laughing at her suggestion of hacking into systems in a parallel universe. Smug little shits, being useful didn’t mean being untouchable. There were lots of useful trolls. Escaping the Condesce’s ire required being both unique and strong enough to endure an angry highblood’s temporary lapse in judgement.

This is what started things towards the current arrangement. The Condesce, or “Condy” as she had come to allow mentioning such things. Harmless venting, at least online where there wasn’t a target to harmfully vent onto.

“T)(e fucking audacity of t)(ose beac)(es, laug)( at M-E?”

“you diidn’t let them get away wiith being 2tupiid twiice riight?”

“Of course naut! Twice?”

“mockiing the empre22 and beiing laughably fuckiing wrong two.”

“W)(ats t)(at guppy? You could do beta t)(en?”

“of cour2e. why what were you lookiing for?”

“W)(ale… I need information! W)(at if some sucka)( a universe over gets the brig)(t idea to swim into mine first!”

“2o what, new2 2tatiion or radiio even? ii don’t know that ‘adjacent’ mean2 anythiing but each uniiver2e doe2 have iit2 own coordiinate2.”

“Talk sense buoy whatc)(a mean?”

“ii could put a program liike what ii u2e on your hu2ktop or palmhu2k or whatever the fuck two 2croll diifferent feed2 from other place2. 2ee theiir coord2, compare iit two your own. ju2t on your2 though, be2t you tell people what they need two know riight?”

“--EXACTLY! T)(anks guppy t)(at would be good work.”

“well you can thank me iif iit work2, not liike ii have a hiive two put a tv iin.”

“)(u)(? )(old on a minute Condy’s getting an idea.”

From there a very interesting and very daunting offer was made. Come live in the palace, at least for a little while. Install and oversee a few changes. The Empress hardly ever got an excuse to use the guest rooms. He wouldn’t leave her alone amongst empty rooms and dullards, would he? Despite every alarm bell ringing in his head at once, Sollux allowed himself to be buttered up and drawn to the palace. While he was never surprised the Empress was enormous, it was an ironclad rule of nature, that didn't make him any less impressed. The figure that awaited easily tripled him in height, and in terms of mass it was pointless to even consider. Either of the Condesce's hips jutted out further than Sollux was tall, and even those monuments to imperial glory struggled to carry the impossible shelf of tyrian backside scarcely clearing the floor behind them. Condy's wetsuit was nothing short of a miracle of modern Alternian technology to compress and contain the true Battleship Condescension.

Had it not been for that mountain of ass Sollux could've walked straight under the overhang of Condy's hips (even past her thunderous thighs) and barely brushed his horns under them. This was something he found out first hand during his time in the palace. Having been walking at speed, being built to her scale the palace was enormous, Sollux came across a corner and failed to notice the enormous shadow cast around it. As the Empress rounded it in a wide arc, the yellowblood had time to feel the brush of her hip atop his head before colliding with and barely even denting the rubbery expanse. It however had no trouble bulldozing him to the ground, with so little clearance that the cheek he was under promptly buried him. The slick surface of her wet suit proving to be a safety feature as it helped the immense weight slide over him rather than catch hold and drag him along, though the passing still took several long seconds. If Sollux hadn't started sputtering curses once freed Condy would likely never have even noticed the disturbance. If fuckers didn't get out of the way it was their funeral. The smaller troll briefly expected a quick execution order at his transgression, but was instead met with cackling laughter and a mighty CLAP as the Empress slapped a hand across the side of one cheek and declared he was lucky she liked the bold type.

[taechnological]

first of all i don't even follow you but your annoying comments are seen on my dash from other blogs i follow so blocking you won't do justice either. just put your feelings in the tags why is that so hard to do how long have you even been on tumblr that's not really how things work here. and this isn't even hate mail or whatever you call it, i'm just telling you to stop doing that because it's annoying as hell. i also don't care about your followers defending you lol

first of all u need to learn more adjectives other than "annoying" u literally have called me that 4 times just today :( be more creative!

anyway enough w the shits and giggles, listen here buddy. i leave my comments in the reblogs and not in tags to keep track of the posts i rb PLUS to save my comments. ALSO u can easily cut off my comment if u wanna rb the post on ur blog. ALSO about "that's not really how thinks work here" thing... how long have YOU been here bc tumblr is a microblogging site and "traditionally" ppl used to leave their feelings IN THE REBLOGS until they started doing it in the tags instead since a few years ago.

NOW i hope this discussion has ended here bc frankly it is so pointless that i have yawned thrice while just reading ur ask so.... tldr; am i gonna stop running my blog the way i run it? the answer is still:

[skinks]

whats your twitter? (if we are allowed to follow!)

ah I don’t actually tweet at all so it would be pointless to follow, sorry! I only use it to upload my PS4 screenshots, and now to occasionally like reddie art when I remember twitter exists and people post the saucy stuff there. I don’t have the brainpower to keep up with more than one microblogging platform sjfhjdjfj