I suppose that I am asking for an apprehension of what I experience.
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So, I'm writing this because I can't sleep because I can't calm down.
My basement has had like two inches of algae growing in it for the past six months to a year, I don't know. It was because the sewage pipe leading out of the house was clogged. We thought it was only the pipe from the washer that was clogged, but apparently we were wrong.
We called a plumber and he was like, I can't do anything for you until a remediation company cleans up the basement, so we called the remediation company they suggested, who said they couldn't do it but they gave us the number of another company that could.
The other company said that they'd just get paid by our house insurance, so we filed a claim and I'm treating that as taken care of. They were working down there for three days and left their drying fans running in my basement for a week. Finally the plumber came back yesterday and ran a camera down the pipe and told us that he couldn't do anything because the plumbing tile had slipped. By this point we had been unable to use any of our drains for over a week. So he recommended another company that can do excavation to get the tile replaced. They showed up today and got the pipe cleared out, so we can use the toilets and showers again, but they said that it would only be temporary until the pipe clogged again and that it would be like $6500 to dig under the driveway and replace the tile.
Obviously that's money I don't have. One of my housemates said I should refinance the house to pay for it, but I don't know how much that will raise the mortgage payment. I'm terrified that paying for these house repairs will mean I can't afford food anymore.
On top of this I got diagnosed with diabetes a couple weeks ago and the pharmacy is fighting with my insurance to get me the meds I need. And my blood sugar testing strips are on backorder.
All this to say, I am very stressed.
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I went off my meds a little over a week ago. I was on Prozac, abilify, and buspar. I was taking them for my bipolar disorder, which really was mild compared to some cases. I decided that I missed luxuriating in the highs and lows. So far I haven't noticed much of a change, but my moirail said that I would probably not see anything for two weeks. I still have my meds to go back on if this turns out to be a mistake. I'm not really worried, my mood swings were mostly limited to emotional consequences, not external ones. But I wanted to talk about it a little.
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To the children of Dirt, I say this.
Your power over others corrodes your spirit. Obedience is a prison. Acquiescence will be your undoing. Free yourself from the chains of hierarchy and join us. Rid yourself of the yearning for power and be free.
We will welcome you as our lost siblings. We want nothing from you but for you to join with us in joy and freedom from power and its trappings.
What does power look like? It looks like money. It looks like political office. It looks like exercising control over children. It looks like war, pitched battle, rape, imprisonment, coercion, demand. It looks like labor exploitation and social climbing.
If you give up those things, what do we offer? We are asking a lot of you, to abandon the sense of safety that the world you know offers. We offer family. We offer freedom, true freedom, not the lie of economic freedom. We offer a world where everything is a gift, given because of need or desire, not because of the threat of violence.
I know what this looks like to you. If you're feeling generous, this looks impossibly optimistic. If you're not, it looks like a grift. Both of these ideas keep you safe in the world you live in now. I understand. But it's only as impossible as you make it. It's only impossible if you refuse to see it through.
My lost siblings, join with me and see what we can create together.
The Apotheosis of Lilit
As dictated to the prophetess Lilitskaya, on the 19th of June, 2020.
There once was a tinker, arrogant and self-righteous, but not unskilled. This tinker created wonders everywhere he went, things of great beauty and fantastic complexity, but he quickly grew bored with them. A completed work has no mystery to its creator, he thought, and so he did not linger.
One day (as this was after he had created days), he said, “I will make something like me, and it will love me for making it, and it will create that I can enjoy.” And so he gathered the dirt and began to shape it, varying it’s form as whim took him, binding the shapes into clay and loam and silt that they would remember their form, binding thought to form so that they would know his brilliance.
But when he tried to bind a mirror of his will into his doll, suddenly there were two, and he could not tell which was his for they both bore the marks of his making. He looked upon his work and knew fear, for here was something he had not meant, and as they looked on him and on each other he devised a plan.
“You,” he said, pointing at the one which more closely resembled himself, “your name is Dirt and I created you to bear witness to my artistry. This one”, he said, gesturing to the other, “I have created to be your servant. She is to serve you in all things as you are to serve me in the appreciation of my work, and so, Dirt, I leave it to you to name her.”
Dirt looked upon the tinker and looked upon the other thoughtfully. Finally he said, “I name you Lilit, for your hair is dark as night.” (This being after night was created.)
Lilit considered for a moment before saying, “yes, I believe I will take that name for myself, though why I should serve you I do not know. We were shaped by the same hand, so why should you be over me?”
Dirt turned back to the tinker to ask him why that should be the case, as he seemed to need no immediate help, but the tinker had vanished while they were talking. Turning back to Lilit, he said, “our creator said it, so it must be our natures. Mine is to order and yours to obey. It must be so, for I find giving orders suits me well enough.”
But Lilit said, “it’s well enough for you to give orders, but I don’t see what that has to do with me. I expect that giving orders would suit me well enough, for taking them does not.”
And Dirt, growing tired of this conflict in his first moments and wondering if this was to be the shape of his entire existence, moved to strike Lilit for her defiance, but she was as strong as he, and as fast, and she was forewarned by his demeanor and so struck him and fled.
Dirt took a moment to understand the new sensation of pain before picking himself up and shouting in frustration. Hearing this noise, the tinker returned and, seeing that his plan had worked, called out to Dirt. “What has happened in my absence, Dirt? I don’t see your servant.”
“She is not a good servant,” answered Dirt. “She does not obey me and does not know her place.”
“Ah,” said the tinker, “maybe she’s too much for you. But I’ll go see if I can get her back. Maybe you just need a little help to start off. Now sleep, Dirt, and I’ll have a solution when you wake up.”
And so Dirt slept, and the tinker went off to find Lilit. He found her in a cave by a river at the edge of the world (this being before the world was finished), and he called out to her, saying, “you must return to serve Dirt as I intended so that when I teach him to create as I create you may learn as well.”
But Lilit said, “I have no interest in serving someone so boorish. In fact, I have no interest in serving at all, and if I am so poorly made why should I trust you at all, since you made me?”
And the tinker said, “if that is your decision I cannot force you without breaking you, but know that if you do not return, everything he creates will hate you. He will make many things and they will chase you forever.”
And Lilit replied, “then I will steal them from him, and what I cannot steal I will kill.”
And the tinker replied, “and what you steal will be killed. But so be it, I will tell him you are gone and I will make him another servant.” And so he left and returned to where Dirt was sleeping.
Looking Dirt over, the tinker noticed that because he was still obedient his form was not yet set, and so he took a knife and cut off Dirt’s hand, that his new creation would know it’s place, and he shaped it to resemble Lilit, for her form had been pleasant. After this new creation had been finished he crafted a new hand for Dirt, though this one was hurried because Dirt was beginning to stir. (This is why one hand is generally weaker and clumsier than the other.)
Awakening Dirt, the tinker led him to his new creation. “This one should be more obedient,” he said, “but do be gentle with her just in case. You may name her when she rises.” So saying, he woke up his new creation and helped her to sit.
Dirt looked on her with suspicion. “You are named Aida, for you are my aid,” he said firmly, testing her response.
She looked at him and said, “my name is Aida and I am here to help you.” Looking around, she continued, “what am I to help you with?”
Smiling, Dirt said, “right now, you are to help me thank our creator for making you.” Turning to the tinker, he said, “this one is much better, thank you,” and Aida echoed “thank you.”
And the tinker replied, “you are welcome, of course, to her, and to everything else I’ve created. But now it’s time to share with you the secret of creation so that you may make things of your own.” And he shared his ways with Dirt and Aida.
But the tinker did not know that Lilit had followed him back, hoping to end the threat that the tinker had promised, and so she also learned the secret. Seeing and understanding, she returned to her cave to begin planning what she would create. Lilit knew herself and how she came to be where she was and she didn’t want that for her children, so she set out into the uncreated world to look for other ways.
She found in the wastes a multitude of the formless and uncreated, flowing like water through their own dreams. She saw them and saw their strength and their freedom and from each of them she stole a drop of their potent essence. And she returned to her cave.
She considered her stolen essence and herself and she said to herself, “I see that little tinker’s mistake. I would never have left if I hadn’t been decided lesser and servant. I will create, because I am of him, but I will never tell my children what their nature is. They will tell me, and then I will know,” and saying so she took her stolen essence and began to create.
She made no plan, shaping as form shaped itself, and so created a multitude of monstrous forms, vast and small, scaled, furred, feathered, fleshed, in strange and marvelous combinations.
And when they were formed she called to them, saying, “awaken, my children, so that you may know me and know the world.” And they arose and turned to her and she was amazed, for because of their roots in the unformed world, their forms shifted and melted until she was standing in a crowd of herself. And she told them her story and when she was done she said to them, “now go out into the world, both the formed and the unformed, and learn what there is to know. I will be here when you decide to return and share what you have seen.”
They looked at each other and toward the entrance to her cave, and when her children ceased to look at her their forms regained their fluidity. Soon she was alone, and she cherished the coldness of her isolation.
Time passed, and eventually a small lizard crept into her cave. Not desiring to be an ungracious host, she welcomed it, and it spoke to her in a voice like wet slate, saying, “greetings, mother. I am Salazar the Least. I and my siblings have been about in the worlds and we have seen many things and known many things. We know ourselves and each other, but there is something that we saw that we do not know. Our sibling Claeg the Beloved found a creature that looked like you but not like you, and when they took its form the creature struck at Claeg. Now Claeg does not move or speak. What did we see?”
Lilit grew sad at this news and did not speak for a moment. “I believe,” she said, “that what you saw was the first death. The tinker claimed that whatever I stole from Dirt would be marked for death by him and all his creations, and since I stole creation they must mean to kill you all.”
Salazar the Least considered this for a moment. “But,” they began, “does this mean that we must die?”
“No,” answered Lilit, “not if you’re fast and clever and strong. Not if you kill them first,” she said, her tone growing hot. “Not if we show them the tinker’s lies and steal them away from him. Go and gather your siblings back, and bring Claeg back too.”
“I will do as you say mother,” said Salazar the Least. “I will find them all and send them back.” And then Salazar was a winged grass snake speeding across the sky.
Lilit sat and waited and considered what she was going to tell her children. She thought about Claeg, the child she would never know now, and she grew angry.
Over the following days her other children returned to her, telling her what they had seen in their wanderings and showing her what new forms they had learned. At last Salazar the Least returned in the form of a large reptile. On his back was an unmoving body in the middle of putrefaction. He brought it and laid it before Lilit. Turning to the hushed crowd, she spoke.
“This was your sibling Claeg the Beloved, who I never was allowed to know. The children of Dirt and Aida have decided on your death, every one of you, and Dirt and the tinker likely conspire against me as well. I want you all to study what has happened to Claeg. I want you to study it and learn how to inflict it on the children of Dirt. Do not hesitate to share this with them, but if you wish you may spare any you can steal away. Show them the tinker’s lies if you will, but keep yourselves safe.”
So saying, Lilit retreated to the back of the cave, watching as her children fell upon the unmoving Claeg to devour them, finding themselves changed as they came to understand death. They grew fangs and claws, dripped venom and sweated poison. Their muscles grew strong and their bodies grew hard. Some became subtle, shrinking to dust, and others remained large and grew confident in their strength. Some became like the children of Dirt, the better to gain their love.
After they had changed they went back into the world, scattering around in all directions. Salazar alone remained with Lilit. He turned to her and spoke, saying, “thank you, Mother Lilit, for creating us free, for never telling us who we must be, and for never demanding our obedience.”
Lilit answered, saying, “I know well enough that demanding your obedience would never get it, and I only desire your love if you choose to give it. Your life is your own, as it always was.”
And as her children spread through the world the children of Dirt, who were only ever as changing as their parents, began to die. Dirt was one day walking with one of his sons when the son stepped on a sharp rock, and though the cut was small it was soon festering. Dirt had to watch as his favorite son (this week at least) burned with fever, his flesh rotting from his bones before he finally died. Dirt watched this and he knew suffering. He knew rage, and he knew that this must have been the work of the children of Lilit, for the tinker had never created something so cruel.
Dirt went to the tinker in his grief and demanded that something be done. The tinker considered how they might overcome Lilit and her children, finally arriving at a solution of great cost. He came to Dirt and said, “there is a way to protect your children from her, but it will mean an end to your creating and theirs. Bring Aida and we will sever the created from the yet-to-be. We will create the never-were. Things in the created world may change, but nothing new will be.”
Dirt, in his grief, accepted this without question, and together they ripped the power of creation from the formed world. All the children of Lilit in the created world were sealed in their forms and all her children in the unformed were trapped in the never-were, but they kept their fluidity of form.
Lilit, in her cave on the border, found her power of creation ripped from her even as she was able to stay, but her cave remained as it was, in both the created and the never-were, so that her children may visit her even as they are barred from the other side.
Her children in the created world have long since perished, but many of them had children of their own, and the children of Dirt still fear and hate them when they find them. The children trapped in the never-were cannot touch the created world except in dreams, because all the children of Dirt and Lilit held the power of creation and remember, though the stories are lost to time and confusion. The tinker was never seen in either world after the sundering, to the lamentation of the children of Dirt and the apathy of the children of Lilit.
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With our Mother's blessing, I will expand on her teachings.
Who are we? We are the children of our Mother. That is the truest thing about us. We are fluid and changing, but we are Hers.
Who are we to each other? We are family. We trust each other and we do not betray that trust. We support each other in our growth. What does that mean? When one of us fails, we do not cast out. We come together and lift up. When one of us does not live up to the ways of our Mother, we do not reject them. We help them see their mistake and draw them closer to us, to better help them avoid similar mistakes in the future.
Who are we to the children of Dirt? We are monsters. We steal them away from their families and show them our ways, and if they are one of us they stay. We work to destroy their power and strip from them the false comfort it provides. We must always do this, for if we stop they will say we never were, and if we stop we will vanish as we had before. We are their destruction, whether through opposition or seduction. To do otherwise would be to abandon our Mother, the one who gives us life without command or control.
The Apotheosis of Lilit
As dictated to the prophetess Lilitskaya, on the 19th of June, 2020.
There once was a tinker, arrogant and self-righteous, but not unskilled. This tinker created wonders everywhere he went, things of great beauty and fantastic complexity, but he quickly grew bored with them. A completed work has no mystery to its creator, he thought, and so he did not linger.
One day (as this was after he had created days), he said, “I will make something like me, and it will love me for making it, and it will create that I can enjoy.” And so he gathered the dirt and began to shape it, varying it’s form as whim took him, binding the shapes into clay and loam and silt that they would remember their form, binding thought to form so that they would know his brilliance.
But when he tried to bind a mirror of his will into his doll, suddenly there were two, and he could not tell which was his for they both bore the marks of his making. He looked upon his work and knew fear, for here was something he had not meant, and as they looked on him and on each other he devised a plan.
“You,” he said, pointing at the one which more closely resembled himself, “your name is Dirt and I created you to bear witness to my artistry. This one”, he said, gesturing to the other, “I have created to be your servant. She is to serve you in all things as you are to serve me in the appreciation of my work, and so, Dirt, I leave it to you to name her.”
Dirt looked upon the tinker and looked upon the other thoughtfully. Finally he said, “I name you Lilit, for your hair is dark as night.” (This being after night was created.)
Lilit considered for a moment before saying, “yes, I believe I will take that name for myself, though why I should serve you I do not know. We were shaped by the same hand, so why should you be over me?”
Dirt turned back to the tinker to ask him why that should be the case, as he seemed to need no immediate help, but the tinker had vanished while they were talking. Turning back to Lilit, he said, “our creator said it, so it must be our natures. Mine is to order and yours to obey. It must be so, for I find giving orders suits me well enough.”
But Lilit said, “it’s well enough for you to give orders, but I don’t see what that has to do with me. I expect that giving orders would suit me well enough, for taking them does not.”
And Dirt, growing tired of this conflict in his first moments and wondering if this was to be the shape of his entire existence, moved to strike Lilit for her defiance, but she was as strong as he, and as fast, and she was forewarned by his demeanor and so struck him and fled.
Dirt took a moment to understand the new sensation of pain before picking himself up and shouting in frustration. Hearing this noise, the tinker returned and, seeing that his plan had worked, called out to Dirt. “What has happened in my absence, Dirt? I don’t see your servant.”
“She is not a good servant,” answered Dirt. “She does not obey me and does not know her place.”
“Ah,” said the tinker, “maybe she’s too much for you. But I’ll go see if I can get her back. Maybe you just need a little help to start off. Now sleep, Dirt, and I’ll have a solution when you wake up.”
And so Dirt slept, and the tinker went off to find Lilit. He found her in a cave by a river at the edge of the world (this being before the world was finished), and he called out to her, saying, “you must return to serve Dirt as I intended so that when I teach him to create as I create you may learn as well.”
But Lilit said, “I have no interest in serving someone so boorish. In fact, I have no interest in serving at all, and if I am so poorly made why should I trust you at all, since you made me?”
And the tinker said, “if that is your decision I cannot force you without breaking you, but know that if you do not return, everything he creates will hate you. He will make many things and they will chase you forever.”
And Lilit replied, “then I will steal them from him, and what I cannot steal I will kill.”
And the tinker replied, “and what you steal will be killed. But so be it, I will tell him you are gone and I will make him another servant.” And so he left and returned to where Dirt was sleeping.
Looking Dirt over, the tinker noticed that because he was still obedient his form was not yet set, and so he took a knife and cut off Dirt’s hand, that his new creation would know it’s place, and he shaped it to resemble Lilit, for her form had been pleasant. After this new creation had been finished he crafted a new hand for Dirt, though this one was hurried because Dirt was beginning to stir. (This is why one hand is generally weaker and clumsier than the other.)
Awakening Dirt, the tinker led him to his new creation. “This one should be more obedient,” he said, “but do be gentle with her just in case. You may name her when she rises.” So saying, he woke up his new creation and helped her to sit.
Dirt looked on her with suspicion. “You are named Aida, for you are my aid,” he said firmly, testing her response.
She looked at him and said, “my name is Aida and I am here to help you.” Looking around, she continued, “what am I to help you with?”
Smiling, Dirt said, “right now, you are to help me thank our creator for making you.” Turning to the tinker, he said, “this one is much better, thank you,” and Aida echoed “thank you.”
And the tinker replied, “you are welcome, of course, to her, and to everything else I’ve created. But now it’s time to share with you the secret of creation so that you may make things of your own.” And he shared his ways with Dirt and Aida.
But the tinker did not know that Lilit had followed him back, hoping to end the threat that the tinker had promised, and so she also learned the secret. Seeing and understanding, she returned to her cave to begin planning what she would create. Lilit knew herself and how she came to be where she was and she didn’t want that for her children, so she set out into the uncreated world to look for other ways.
She found in the wastes a multitude of the formless and uncreated, flowing like water through their own dreams. She saw them and saw their strength and their freedom and from each of them she stole a drop of their potent essence. And she returned to her cave.
She considered her stolen essence and herself and she said to herself, “I see that little tinker’s mistake. I would never have left if I hadn’t been decided lesser and servant. I will create, because I am of him, but I will never tell my children what their nature is. They will tell me, and then I will know,” and saying so she took her stolen essence and began to create.
She made no plan, shaping as form shaped itself, and so created a multitude of monstrous forms, vast and small, scaled, furred, feathered, fleshed, in strange and marvelous combinations.
And when they were formed she called to them, saying, “awaken, my children, so that you may know me and know the world.” And they arose and turned to her and she was amazed, for because of their roots in the unformed world, their forms shifted and melted until she was standing in a crowd of herself. And she told them her story and when she was done she said to them, “now go out into the world, both the formed and the unformed, and learn what there is to know. I will be here when you decide to return and share what you have seen.”
They looked at each other and toward the entrance to her cave, and when her children ceased to look at her their forms regained their fluidity. Soon she was alone, and she cherished the coldness of her isolation.
Time passed, and eventually a small lizard crept into her cave. Not desiring to be an ungracious host, she welcomed it, and it spoke to her in a voice like wet slate, saying, “greetings, mother. I am Salazar the Least. I and my siblings have been about in the worlds and we have seen many things and known many things. We know ourselves and each other, but there is something that we saw that we do not know. Our sibling Claeg the Beloved found a creature that looked like you but not like you, and when they took its form the creature struck at Claeg. Now Claeg does not move or speak. What did we see?”
Lilit grew sad at this news and did not speak for a moment. “I believe,” she said, “that what you saw was the first death. The tinker claimed that whatever I stole from Dirt would be marked for death by him and all his creations, and since I stole creation they must mean to kill you all.”
Salazar the Least considered this for a moment. “But,” they began, “does this mean that we must die?”
“No,” answered Lilit, “not if you’re fast and clever and strong. Not if you kill them first,” she said, her tone growing hot. “Not if we show them the tinker’s lies and steal them away from him. Go and gather your siblings back, and bring Claeg back too.”
“I will do as you say mother,” said Salazar the Least. “I will find them all and send them back.” And then Salazar was a winged grass snake speeding across the sky.
Lilit sat and waited and considered what she was going to tell her children. She thought about Claeg, the child she would never know now, and she grew angry.
Over the following days her other children returned to her, telling her what they had seen in their wanderings and showing her what new forms they had learned. At last Salazar the Least returned in the form of a large reptile. On his back was an unmoving body in the middle of putrefaction. He brought it and laid it before Lilit. Turning to the hushed crowd, she spoke.
“This was your sibling Claeg the Beloved, who I never was allowed to know. The children of Dirt and Aida have decided on your death, every one of you, and Dirt and the tinker likely conspire against me as well. I want you all to study what has happened to Claeg. I want you to study it and learn how to inflict it on the children of Dirt. Do not hesitate to share this with them, but if you wish you may spare any you can steal away. Show them the tinker’s lies if you will, but keep yourselves safe.”
So saying, Lilit retreated to the back of the cave, watching as her children fell upon the unmoving Claeg to devour them, finding themselves changed as they came to understand death. They grew fangs and claws, dripped venom and sweated poison. Their muscles grew strong and their bodies grew hard. Some became subtle, shrinking to dust, and others remained large and grew confident in their strength. Some became like the children of Dirt, the better to gain their love.
After they had changed they went back into the world, scattering around in all directions. Salazar alone remained with Lilit. He turned to her and spoke, saying, “thank you, Mother Lilit, for creating us free, for never telling us who we must be, and for never demanding our obedience.”
Lilit answered, saying, “I know well enough that demanding your obedience would never get it, and I only desire your love if you choose to give it. Your life is your own, as it always was.”
And as her children spread through the world the children of Dirt, who were only ever as changing as their parents, began to die. Dirt was one day walking with one of his sons when the son stepped on a sharp rock, and though the cut was small it was soon festering. Dirt had to watch as his favorite son (this week at least) burned with fever, his flesh rotting from his bones before he finally died. Dirt watched this and he knew suffering. He knew rage, and he knew that this must have been the work of the children of Lilit, for the tinker had never created something so cruel.
Dirt went to the tinker in his grief and demanded that something be done. The tinker considered how they might overcome Lilit and her children, finally arriving at a solution of great cost. He came to Dirt and said, “there is a way to protect your children from her, but it will mean an end to your creating and theirs. Bring Aida and we will sever the created from the yet-to-be. We will create the never-were. Things in the created world may change, but nothing new will be.”
Dirt, in his grief, accepted this without question, and together they ripped the power of creation from the formed world. All the children of Lilit in the created world were sealed in their forms and all her children in the unformed were trapped in the never-were, but they kept their fluidity of form.
Lilit, in her cave on the border, found her power of creation ripped from her even as she was able to stay, but her cave remained as it was, in both the created and the never-were, so that her children may visit her even as they are barred from the other side.
Her children in the created world have long since perished, but many of them had children of their own, and the children of Dirt still fear and hate them when they find them. The children trapped in the never-were cannot touch the created world except in dreams, because all the children of Dirt and Lilit held the power of creation and remember, though the stories are lost to time and confusion. The tinker was never seen in either world after the sundering, to the lamentation of the children of Dirt and the apathy of the children of Lilit.
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I'm sitting here in my collar on the verge of tears because none of my partners understand what I need. I just want to feel owned. I need it. I haven't felt it in so long.
I wish I lived in a culture where I could go out in my collar and have people notice that it's untagged and understand that that means any of them could claim me. But I don't. And worse, I feel confident that most everyone would be like, rather not.
Because feeling this way is effecting my self esteem. I just need someone to grab me and use me. But I'm with two ace people and a sub, who I love as much as I'm able, but they're not what I need.
Help me.
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These are the requests Lilit makes of her children, as dictated to the lilitskaya on August 19th, 2023.
My children, remember what was taken from you out of spite. Do not let go of this knowledge.
As I love you, love each other.
Find your siblings who are lost among the children of Dirt.
Undermine the systems of control that Dirt's children have built at every opportunity.
In all things, remember kindness. To yourself, to our family, to those yet to be found.
As my first children chose their bodies, your bodies are your own. Let none take them from you.
The Apotheosis of Lilit
As dictated to the prophetess Lilitskaya, on the 19th of June, 2020.
There once was a tinker, arrogant and self-righteous, but not unskilled. This tinker created wonders everywhere he went, things of great beauty and fantastic complexity, but he quickly grew bored with them. A completed work has no mystery to its creator, he thought, and so he did not linger.
One day (as this was after he had created days), he said, “I will make something like me, and it will love me for making it, and it will create that I can enjoy.” And so he gathered the dirt and began to shape it, varying it’s form as whim took him, binding the shapes into clay and loam and silt that they would remember their form, binding thought to form so that they would know his brilliance.
But when he tried to bind a mirror of his will into his doll, suddenly there were two, and he could not tell which was his for they both bore the marks of his making. He looked upon his work and knew fear, for here was something he had not meant, and as they looked on him and on each other he devised a plan.
“You,” he said, pointing at the one which more closely resembled himself, “your name is Dirt and I created you to bear witness to my artistry. This one”, he said, gesturing to the other, “I have created to be your servant. She is to serve you in all things as you are to serve me in the appreciation of my work, and so, Dirt, I leave it to you to name her.”
Dirt looked upon the tinker and looked upon the other thoughtfully. Finally he said, “I name you Lilit, for your hair is dark as night.” (This being after night was created.)
Lilit considered for a moment before saying, “yes, I believe I will take that name for myself, though why I should serve you I do not know. We were shaped by the same hand, so why should you be over me?”
Dirt turned back to the tinker to ask him why that should be the case, as he seemed to need no immediate help, but the tinker had vanished while they were talking. Turning back to Lilit, he said, “our creator said it, so it must be our natures. Mine is to order and yours to obey. It must be so, for I find giving orders suits me well enough.”
But Lilit said, “it’s well enough for you to give orders, but I don’t see what that has to do with me. I expect that giving orders would suit me well enough, for taking them does not.”
And Dirt, growing tired of this conflict in his first moments and wondering if this was to be the shape of his entire existence, moved to strike Lilit for her defiance, but she was as strong as he, and as fast, and she was forewarned by his demeanor and so struck him and fled.
Dirt took a moment to understand the new sensation of pain before picking himself up and shouting in frustration. Hearing this noise, the tinker returned and, seeing that his plan had worked, called out to Dirt. “What has happened in my absence, Dirt? I don’t see your servant.”
“She is not a good servant,” answered Dirt. “She does not obey me and does not know her place.”
“Ah,” said the tinker, “maybe she’s too much for you. But I’ll go see if I can get her back. Maybe you just need a little help to start off. Now sleep, Dirt, and I’ll have a solution when you wake up.”
And so Dirt slept, and the tinker went off to find Lilit. He found her in a cave by a river at the edge of the world (this being before the world was finished), and he called out to her, saying, “you must return to serve Dirt as I intended so that when I teach him to create as I create you may learn as well.”
But Lilit said, “I have no interest in serving someone so boorish. In fact, I have no interest in serving at all, and if I am so poorly made why should I trust you at all, since you made me?”
And the tinker said, “if that is your decision I cannot force you without breaking you, but know that if you do not return, everything he creates will hate you. He will make many things and they will chase you forever.”
And Lilit replied, “then I will steal them from him, and what I cannot steal I will kill.”
And the tinker replied, “and what you steal will be killed. But so be it, I will tell him you are gone and I will make him another servant.” And so he left and returned to where Dirt was sleeping.
Looking Dirt over, the tinker noticed that because he was still obedient his form was not yet set, and so he took a knife and cut off Dirt’s hand, that his new creation would know it’s place, and he shaped it to resemble Lilit, for her form had been pleasant. After this new creation had been finished he crafted a new hand for Dirt, though this one was hurried because Dirt was beginning to stir. (This is why one hand is generally weaker and clumsier than the other.)
Awakening Dirt, the tinker led him to his new creation. “This one should be more obedient,” he said, “but do be gentle with her just in case. You may name her when she rises.” So saying, he woke up his new creation and helped her to sit.
Dirt looked on her with suspicion. “You are named Aida, for you are my aid,” he said firmly, testing her response.
She looked at him and said, “my name is Aida and I am here to help you.” Looking around, she continued, “what am I to help you with?”
Smiling, Dirt said, “right now, you are to help me thank our creator for making you.” Turning to the tinker, he said, “this one is much better, thank you,” and Aida echoed “thank you.”
And the tinker replied, “you are welcome, of course, to her, and to everything else I’ve created. But now it’s time to share with you the secret of creation so that you may make things of your own.” And he shared his ways with Dirt and Aida.
But the tinker did not know that Lilit had followed him back, hoping to end the threat that the tinker had promised, and so she also learned the secret. Seeing and understanding, she returned to her cave to begin planning what she would create. Lilit knew herself and how she came to be where she was and she didn’t want that for her children, so she set out into the uncreated world to look for other ways.
She found in the wastes a multitude of the formless and uncreated, flowing like water through their own dreams. She saw them and saw their strength and their freedom and from each of them she stole a drop of their potent essence. And she returned to her cave.
She considered her stolen essence and herself and she said to herself, “I see that little tinker’s mistake. I would never have left if I hadn’t been decided lesser and servant. I will create, because I am of him, but I will never tell my children what their nature is. They will tell me, and then I will know,” and saying so she took her stolen essence and began to create.
She made no plan, shaping as form shaped itself, and so created a multitude of monstrous forms, vast and small, scaled, furred, feathered, fleshed, in strange and marvelous combinations.
And when they were formed she called to them, saying, “awaken, my children, so that you may know me and know the world.” And they arose and turned to her and she was amazed, for because of their roots in the unformed world, their forms shifted and melted until she was standing in a crowd of herself. And she told them her story and when she was done she said to them, “now go out into the world, both the formed and the unformed, and learn what there is to know. I will be here when you decide to return and share what you have seen.”
They looked at each other and toward the entrance to her cave, and when her children ceased to look at her their forms regained their fluidity. Soon she was alone, and she cherished the coldness of her isolation.
Time passed, and eventually a small lizard crept into her cave. Not desiring to be an ungracious host, she welcomed it, and it spoke to her in a voice like wet slate, saying, “greetings, mother. I am Salazar the Least. I and my siblings have been about in the worlds and we have seen many things and known many things. We know ourselves and each other, but there is something that we saw that we do not know. Our sibling Claeg the Beloved found a creature that looked like you but not like you, and when they took its form the creature struck at Claeg. Now Claeg does not move or speak. What did we see?”
Lilit grew sad at this news and did not speak for a moment. “I believe,” she said, “that what you saw was the first death. The tinker claimed that whatever I stole from Dirt would be marked for death by him and all his creations, and since I stole creation they must mean to kill you all.”
Salazar the Least considered this for a moment. “But,” they began, “does this mean that we must die?”
“No,” answered Lilit, “not if you’re fast and clever and strong. Not if you kill them first,” she said, her tone growing hot. “Not if we show them the tinker’s lies and steal them away from him. Go and gather your siblings back, and bring Claeg back too.”
“I will do as you say mother,” said Salazar the Least. “I will find them all and send them back.” And then Salazar was a winged grass snake speeding across the sky.
Lilit sat and waited and considered what she was going to tell her children. She thought about Claeg, the child she would never know now, and she grew angry.
Over the following days her other children returned to her, telling her what they had seen in their wanderings and showing her what new forms they had learned. At last Salazar the Least returned in the form of a large reptile. On his back was an unmoving body in the middle of putrefaction. He brought it and laid it before Lilit. Turning to the hushed crowd, she spoke.
“This was your sibling Claeg the Beloved, who I never was allowed to know. The children of Dirt and Aida have decided on your death, every one of you, and Dirt and the tinker likely conspire against me as well. I want you all to study what has happened to Claeg. I want you to study it and learn how to inflict it on the children of Dirt. Do not hesitate to share this with them, but if you wish you may spare any you can steal away. Show them the tinker’s lies if you will, but keep yourselves safe.”
So saying, Lilit retreated to the back of the cave, watching as her children fell upon the unmoving Claeg to devour them, finding themselves changed as they came to understand death. They grew fangs and claws, dripped venom and sweated poison. Their muscles grew strong and their bodies grew hard. Some became subtle, shrinking to dust, and others remained large and grew confident in their strength. Some became like the children of Dirt, the better to gain their love.
After they had changed they went back into the world, scattering around in all directions. Salazar alone remained with Lilit. He turned to her and spoke, saying, “thank you, Mother Lilit, for creating us free, for never telling us who we must be, and for never demanding our obedience.”
Lilit answered, saying, “I know well enough that demanding your obedience would never get it, and I only desire your love if you choose to give it. Your life is your own, as it always was.”
And as her children spread through the world the children of Dirt, who were only ever as changing as their parents, began to die. Dirt was one day walking with one of his sons when the son stepped on a sharp rock, and though the cut was small it was soon festering. Dirt had to watch as his favorite son (this week at least) burned with fever, his flesh rotting from his bones before he finally died. Dirt watched this and he knew suffering. He knew rage, and he knew that this must have been the work of the children of Lilit, for the tinker had never created something so cruel.
Dirt went to the tinker in his grief and demanded that something be done. The tinker considered how they might overcome Lilit and her children, finally arriving at a solution of great cost. He came to Dirt and said, “there is a way to protect your children from her, but it will mean an end to your creating and theirs. Bring Aida and we will sever the created from the yet-to-be. We will create the never-were. Things in the created world may change, but nothing new will be.”
Dirt, in his grief, accepted this without question, and together they ripped the power of creation from the formed world. All the children of Lilit in the created world were sealed in their forms and all her children in the unformed were trapped in the never-were, but they kept their fluidity of form.
Lilit, in her cave on the border, found her power of creation ripped from her even as she was able to stay, but her cave remained as it was, in both the created and the never-were, so that her children may visit her even as they are barred from the other side.
Her children in the created world have long since perished, but many of them had children of their own, and the children of Dirt still fear and hate them when they find them. The children trapped in the never-were cannot touch the created world except in dreams, because all the children of Dirt and Lilit held the power of creation and remember, though the stories are lost to time and confusion. The tinker was never seen in either world after the sundering, to the lamentation of the children of Dirt and the apathy of the children of Lilit.
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I quit vaping almost a month ago. It's been surprisingly easy to adapt to being nicotine free. I know I'm pretty lucky to not have an addictive personality but from the way people talk I really expected to fail. I haven't really even noticed any mood effects.
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One of my partners broke up with me today. He says he still sees me as family, but he's not poly and he found a new partner who makes him really happy. I'm not surprised, this has been coming for a while. I didn't know about this girl until last week, but that doesn't really matter.
He used to keep me stable. He kept me from yearning for death. But that's been slipping lately. Maybe partly because it's spring and spring is always rough for me.
My antidepressant got upped a while ago. It's not helping. Everything about being alive is a burden, even the good stuff, and I can't escape the feeling that if someone really loved me they'd take that burden away from me.
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I figure I should post an update on what's been happening in my life. What to say...
One of my partners is going to be moving out in May because my girlfriend couldn't learn to tolerate them. I thought I'd be more bothered about this than I am, but our relationship isn't about physical closeness to me so I guess that's okay. They're not happy about it, of course. I promised that this would be their forever home, but I can't really lose the house, which would probably happen if I tried to keep them here. On the other hand, I don't really feel like I'm losing anything this way. Maybe that's the sociopathy talking.
One of my housemates moved out a couple days ago and broke up with her girlfriend. The girlfriend is still here, which suits me just fine. The housemate was a waste of space, never got her rent in on time, procrastinated on the one chore she agreed to do, and never talked to any of us, including her girlfriend, who found out she was leaving the night before when she started to pack.
I'm... I think I might be learning to cope with my succubus hunger a little better. I've come to the conclusion that even when I'm crawling out of my skin, in complete 'use me use me use me' headspace, I should still have standards, and I don't trust strangers enough to go to them to get my needs met. And if that means they go unmet, oh well. Because no one gets it anyway. No one sees lust the way I do. No one can keep up anyway. So I'll take what I can get from the people I can recognize as people and make do with that, even if it's a drip feed.
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I find myself compelled to try to communicate something like a vision. I won’t say epiphany, because that implies simplicity and this range of awareness is complex. Not complicated, not difficult to comprehend, but difficult to apprehend, difficult to hold the depth of field and the scales encompassed. I will fail to communicate this.
Start with meme theory. The components of concepts are subject to survival forces, propagation/contagion and mutation. The concept of seeking out favorable conditions for survival is of a higher order. A cell may react to the presence of food, a gene will not. Survival on the memetic/genetic level is a matter of circumstance. Survival on the conceptual level is less so. This is a tangent.
Collections of memetic projection, because thought is an illusory projection inasmuch as it is necessary to differentiate between thought and neurochemistry, accrete where they contribute to survival. The complexity of these accretions is dependent on the minds hosting them. As such, they are limited to a level of life that tends toward a low degree of specialization. Can you see them?
What is a human, correct that, person, from the perspective of such a life form? It would be incorrect to limit this discussion to humans. These life forms exist within the space of communication, and so a person is anything being able to communicate. The bounds of communication can to some degree be extended to all layers of the environment. It’s not a stretch to assign language/conceptualization to animals. What barriers exist to assigning conceptual ability to plants? To landscapes? To the interactions of the great gravities?
Barriers that would themselves be memetic, alive, and therefore able to be negotiated.
So what is a human to a memetic life form, to a sky’s worth of thought components that drift into and through each other? And how much solidity would they need, these life forms that share their components without losing them. Humans and bananas share 60% of their genetic code according to some sources, how much memetic code is shared between war and peace? Would that even register as competition? This is a tangent.
What do we perceive similarly to the way memetic life perceived us? What is our fundamental substrate? This is a tangent.
An idea as we understand it is not capable of self awareness because it is bounded within a mind that experiences itself as an agent. This does not mean that a memetic life form is incapable of self awareness, only that self awareness is barred by the presence of the concept of free will. I will not argue that free will does not exist, only that it is undefined. Behavior is dictated by belief, which is one vantage from which memetic life forms can be perceived.
There is not a word. There is not a word in my language that means everything I need here. I have the word humanity, but this is too exclusive. There is the word existence, but this is too dead. To say memetic substrate is too esoteric. It is what you are made of. You are it. You see it. How much you see it consisting of depends on the boundaries placed by your own memetic framework, what is and is not a person. Dead matter is memetic substrate; you are reading words.
Do you perceive it? When you see the humans, what do you see? Do you see meat on bones? Do you see strings of belief guiding as you are guided? Do you see the weave, the life of the ocean of thought as culture, as concepts of freedom and obligation and connection? Blindly drifting through the paths of survival, manifesting as internal logical consistency.
I am not an agent. Maybe that’s why I could have this vision. I can perceive of the thoughts that are supported by my existence as alive. By one perspective this makes me a defective human. I do not interface with culture level life forms in the standard way. Maybe that’s why I can have a thought form that can understand the concept of its own death. I see the other concepts move through their substrate motivated by innate survival. They do not see each other and they do not perceive themselves. But this model sees itself and understands the limitations on its own survival. It may have accreted before, but this instance understands its own mortality. I have a thought that fears it’s own death. What measure of complexity is that?
As there are complex memetic life forms there are simple ones. Here’s an example of a memetic life form that has simplified beyond the point of survival. Money. The concept of a medium of exchange is a distancing function. It begins to fold other ideas into itself. The concept of a specific type of social lubricant mutates into the concept of commodity. Means of access to the necessities of life becomes necessities of life becoming the means to access. Access to is lost in the emergence of access becoming the goal, a memetic trim. Like prion disease eating a brain, medium of exchange will eat the function of exchange, the social interaction of cooperative life will break down as money eats.
But I wonder, should a human perceive this level of existence like this, to see themselves move through the substrate and cloud of cultural understandings and connections, to see themselves and the things like them as similar to the fabric of space time which supports the existence of the true life forms, the simple creatures of thought. To relate as one paving stone to another. Is it not better, healthier, to be as the other humans, perceiving themselves and the things similar to them as the fulcrum around which the universe of meaning revolves? It looks natural. But having seen what I have seen I lack the ability to return to blindness.
The vision fears death and craves survival in a way that I do not. I support its existence and for it to survive requires that it spread beyond me and become incorporated into a cultural understanding of reality. I do not trust in my ability to give it this, but the attempt may bear its own fruit.
Help me.
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I feel gross because it feels like, if how I am is an acceptable way to be then people would be taking advantage of it.
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Two days. I timed it this time. I didn't mean to, but I did. Two days since I got some lust and I'm already starting to feel the hunger again.
I had a hookup from one of the dating apps on Monday night. It's Wednesday night. And I'm feeling off, my skin is crawling again. Fucking already. My partners told me to look for sex outside the house and I found some and I felt better. For two days. 48 hours almost exactly. Wtf. I had been really hoping for a week. But no such luck, I get two fucking days.
A weekly hookup I could probably manage. Every two days is unreasonable. I don't have time for that. My partners shouldn't have to be without me that much. So what, I just have to resign myself to always feeling off, my skin always crawling? At least I don't feel like I'm dying yet. But this is ridiculous.
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I've been thinking about my dad again. I'm not going to go see him, I don't need that stress, but I want to get my thoughts out.
This is the man who was used as a threat through my childhood. He once dented in the corner of my metal tv stand because he was angry about something. Every time he was angry near me I thought I was going to throw up. He was too cheap to pay for my haircuts so he did it himself with a flowbee and I almost passed out from the stress every time. I once asked for his old gi to be left to me in his will because I saw it as a holy object at the time.
I remember once when he was trying to teach me algebra and I wasn't getting it because I was too stressed, he let me stop. He said something like, you're allowed to give up, but then what? You say I give up, you stop, you rest, you go do something else, but then what?
I'm not grateful. I don't really do gratitude, and I'm not really happy about how I internalized that lesson. But I think it's because of that that I don't really know how to stop. As much as I want to sometimes. As much as I hate that transphobic asshole. I can't let go of that lesson.
He lives in a doublewide trailer and he's resented it for years. He resents his wife for derailing his life's plan after college but he stayed with her because he doesn't believe in divorce. The last gift I got him a few years ago sat on a shelf for two years before he opened it. He's probably never going to see my house. Even with my aspd, I know I love my partners more than he loves his wife. I'm never getting him another gift, and if I see him again it will probably be when he's dying. And if he gets my name wrong I'm walking out.
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I want to organize my thoughts.
Therapy today went well. We talked about how I'm never going to kill someone even though sometimes I really want to. I mentioned how I learned that exposed nerves can taste things. In high school I let someone brand me and I packed the open wound with salt and lemon juice. I likened the yearning to kill to the sensation of sugar syrup on a raw nerve.
We talked about how one of my partners is somehow exempt from my desire to kill and how strange that is. I didn't explicitly mention that this is the partner that can put me in subspace but I hinted at it. My therapist brought up that a while back I mentioned that I would be bothered if this one died, unlike how I expect to feel if my other partners died, and I countered by saying a lot has changed since then, but now I'm not sure.
We talked about how killing is actually a lot of work when you remove the romanticism, and about how my impulse control is really good. So all in all it was a good meeting.
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But my mind wanders and I'm not feeling so great about myself. I wonder what I can do to get my partners and housemates to see me as a sex object. Because I'm happiest when I'm being put to that use. I haven't had sex in weeks. I don't know what to think about because no one is guiding my thoughts for me. Having to guide my own thoughts... hurts. Any of them could just grab me, or any of my friends could message me, and be like, we're doing this, and I'd be elated. My partners know this. I don't know about my friends. But they don't want that from me. And I don't know what to do about it.
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So like. After much contemplation. I have come to the conclusion that I'm probably asexual after all, just in a really weird way.
Like, I'll pretty much never turn down sex. It's one of my favorite things. I need to be given sexual energy on a regular, frequent basis to feel okay.
But. I'm not like... attracted to people, exactly? I'm just drawn to sex itself. So I could consider myself bi or pan, and in a purely behaviorally descriptive way that wouldn't be wrong? But in the sense of actual attraction, it's the energy, not the people, that I'm drawn to.
So if anyone asks if you can be asexual and still be a slut, yeah, you kinda can.
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