Pinned
corhydrial - personal lore
nadja nadïa - wife tag
house of hubris - domain of the mind
house of order - domain of the will
the archivist - return later
sims inspo - architecture
lost lore - other space
dies caniculares - dead weight umwelt 1
pearl diver - dead weight umwelt 2
n. married today. the husband is an awful twerp. fuckboy extraordinnaire. by which i mean, at times we're quite similar. i socialize with him as often as i can because there's a future where i act a little like him, and i don't want it. he's my penance of sorts. i can't stop thinking there's everything wrong with n. and my wife, choosing us as spouses. which is not something im gonna be genuinely sad about but boy howdy im opening my freaky psychoanalysis journal and writing there like a crazy little bug i am :|
I explained the concept of "blorbo from my shows" to my 71 year old immigrant grandfather because I referenced it in passing and I thought nothing of it, until today when he said "I think I'll watch peaky blinders tonight and see my blorbo from my shows" referring, of course, to Cillian Murphy playing Tommy Shelby
English isn't his first language so he's not super in touch with modern slang, so I've been accidentally teaching him to talk like a tumblr user. His favorite thing to say lately is "me when I'm a little hater" when he's like talking shit about the neighbor's son
I explained the “x before gta6” meme to my immigrant father and he, in turn, explained to me how back in his day in Romania, they had the same type of joke, except instead of it being gta6, it was about the imminent death of a singer named Gică Petrescu, who everyone was continuously shocked by because he refused to die. Every time a momentous event happened people would say, in essence: “This happened and Gică Petrescu hasn’t even died yet?!?”
So. He understood the gta6 meme immediately because they apparently had the same thing in Romania when he was young, except way, way more morbid
OP are you telling me we got the death of Gică Petrescu before we got gta6
I love to design Evil Guest Rooms
Like a room for evil guests, or guest rooms that feel evil
guest rooms that feel evil. carefully designed to be troubling without exceeding a threshold of plausible deniability. nothing actually hostile or inhospitable—just subtly wrong in a way that seems like something no human would do on purpose. so like an animatronic clown statue would be too much, but these on the bookshelf would be perfect:
moderately suicidal monday. the worst (and possibly the best) thing in moderately suicidal monday is that it can be traced to the somatic issue 3, 4 and 6. somatic issues 3, 4 and 6 are unsolvable so it's hard to ugh. to just face their presence without falling back to the Delusion of Possible Health. ergo moderately suicidal monday, applied like dome sort of topical painkiller. everything feels stupid. i should do taxes or something...
the suffering feels like rice porridge hookah tobacco in my mouth. it's personal favorite, all of the hookah guys in our place buys in bulk for me and m. so like today i can palpably point to the place inside me that hurts because i feel like it shouldn't be empty and the emptiness is not desirable. the equilibrium atm is unachievable so i weather. it will eventually pass. but it's cool. it's cool that i can feel it. my addiction is inherently a lack of love and it's there only because nothing else is. and because im so weird around this particular nothingness. in the end it's all good every time. it's just all good.
moderately suicidal monday. the worst (and possibly the best) thing in moderately suicidal monday is that it can be traced to the somatic issue 3, 4 and 6. somatic issues 3, 4 and 6 are unsolvable so it's hard to ugh. to just face their presence without falling back to the Delusion of Possible Health. ergo moderately suicidal monday, applied like dome sort of topical painkiller. everything feels stupid. i should do taxes or something...
Having a sudden craving to fuck off somewhere else to do something else for two months and have zero thoughts or concerns about my own regular daily life until I get back.
I am not immune to the lure of leaving my e-mail on an auto-reply of "this user cannot be reached, please contact again at [specific time and date]. If the matter is urgent, no it's fucking not, go fuck yourself." and fuck off into the woods into a place like this:
chopping firewood for the sauna, having beef with deer that eat the vegetables from the shitty little vegetable patch and making venison dishes from the deer that got caught stealing.
because i live with some of my oldest friends, most of them still call me "speedy". most of them aren't old friend tier enough to recognize the nickname has originated from the amphetamine incident when i accidentally found my vocation by cleaning someone else's flat so thoroughly the horrible glass & chrome combo was fucking shining everywhere and i ran out of cotton swabs in the bathrooms.
after that i slept like a dog at the bed-foot of the celebrant (it was a birthday i think) in the celebrant's bed. they've said they never had a body so compact to sleep together with and never seen a workperson so laborious they could make their despicable glasstable shine. i thought "uh huh" and was so, so flustered i had to supress everything about this interaction for like four years and return home to an undoubtedly unhinged girl who was extremely serious about convincing me to commit murder-suicide together with her.
ah, youth. thank fuck it's over.
i love shipping magazines and i especially love them when they sound like they were written by a mildly aggravated cargo ship
being an olfactory weirdo in a house full of onion lovers is an Experience. lesson number one is to proccess thoughts into less offensive speech before talking. lesson number two is people can't fucking feel which fragrance suits them or otherwise. generally it's not a sensation to them. they just pick up shit they like. which is quite different from the subj. same as having a colour you like and a colour that looks good on you.
lesson number three you can't just demote an expensive bodywash to an asswash without an explanation, and when demanded one, say "it smelled like shit" people take offense to that. well its composition is full of white flowers. i mean it as neutrally as i can. it smells like shit. but i shouldn't probably, er, say it again soon.
lesson number four is smell is a powerful migraine trigger, and one should adopt a framework of gratitude towards fellow ones who teach one new stuff about oneself every day. lest one commits an unjustifiable killing.
you can trust me im literally a fake doctor
