It is proven! I am bluedepth on Keybase: https://keybase.io/bluedepth/sigchain#b843e12cc9ad76a1a346e2d3703307a04ccfdddc17c17a05e92a811a6dc6c7560f
One thing that I have really gotten further than I ever thought I would during this pandemic is a new crafting skill, crochet. Got a guide book and some hooks and yarn for Christmas 2019, and since then I have created countless Christmas 2020 presents as well as so many things for myself. I am shocked at how mindful and easy it is.
LOL. After a while my beard brush picks up so many different essential oils that it becomes a lot like a painters palette of scents. Everything from woodsy spicy notes, to sweet apple notes, and deep caramel notes. Like I was in a donut shop / woodworking factory that playfully ejaculated all over my face.
Reading John Bolton’s book “The Room Where It Happened” and beyond the awfulness of John Bolton himself, the publisher failed to do basic proofreading and editing on it. City names, items mentioned, they have typos and flip-flop constantly. When it is over, I will delight in deleting the book. I no longer read on paper, saves me from having to burn the worst of them.
Fall is upon us and as the temperature drops, the people of Michigan seek their old comforts. Bars, movie theaters, restaurants. They no longer care about anything else other than having a good time. The regulations for the last few months are going to be fading away very soon, as fall develops into winter.
Some of us will retain our new ways, even without regulations, while others will mix and mingle.
There are consequences, always. But that’s the world we live in.
Sometimes having an acute sensitivity to emotional background radiation is good. Sometimes it’s not so good. Sometimes you’re surprised and filled with a kind of piquant hopelessness. An emotional state shined thru the stained glass of Lachesism. Wanting it all to be done. To have the disaster. To yearn for clarity. To be able to scream “This is what I was talking about!”
I’m in GenX. Have no fear for me. I am applying alcohol to the emotional exposition.
Oh, and for anyone keeping track, tonight is the White Rabbit. The CNN subliminal posited that an event was going to happen at 3am ET tonight, which would be 1/1/2020, in the direction just to the left of the Orion constellation. As an added bit of fun, Betelgeuse, the red supergiant star in Orion's shoulder is dimming and getting everyone worked up.
So will anything happen? It it going to be exciting or is it going to be a flash in the pan? Only time will tell...
For as long as I’ve been alive, there has been trickle-down economics. A system that created a spiral between power, money, greed, and politics. Now we can’t have any conversation that doesn’t start with trickle-down as the assumption of normal. So we do not have conversations. We don’t have arguments. We have alcoholism and despair and a sad broken world spinning to an uninhabitable planet.
So yes, wear that yoke. You have killed us all. We’re all just dead men walkin after all.
And that is all you need to know about his generation.
As for mine, we’re ignored and adrift, we sip our wine and mixed drinks, years ago diving head first into alcoholism to escape the world the traditionals and boomers created for us to live in. Like a cursed habit-trail.
In a response to how Baby Boomers have ruined the world, I wrote this on the borgsite:
Everything I need to know is summed up by the final argument from my father, who was born in 1939 and is part of the Traditionalists, or Silent, generation. We engaged in a conversation about climate change, with my viewpoint coming from Generation X. He announced “I got mine, by the time shit hits the fan I’ll be long dead what do I care?”
Man alive, it’s remarkable to listen to all the interviews involving Pete Buttigieg. Pod Save America interview is what I’m listening to now. There aren’t taking points in this interview, not the same bullshit. There aren’t any ums or uhs in the entire interview. Just a steady stream of really solid reasoning.
Monday is here to victimize us all. That's what Mondays do. That's what they are meant for. Like an Irish father that comes home every six months to a list of childhood transgressions and lines up the beatings. Monday is here, it has a list, it has a cudgel and no care about leaving marks or breaking bones.
As it turns out, I quite enjoy MST3K'ing the inane foolishness of football games. Oooh you're all soldiers on the field. The ball is a symbolic something or other. Lets all repress our latent homosexuality.
Wait... too much...
And at the end, our order was up for the take-away, and the TV cheerfully said "You're watching Wood TV 8" and I gleefully exclaimed "No I'm fucking not." and walked out. Again, nobody noticed. Which is for the best.
Last night we went out to the local wrap joint and spent a distasteful amount of money on junk food. While there, on the TV tuned to a local TV station was the Denver/New Orleans football game. While being exposed to that pablum I couldn't help but declare things that I saw "The team seems constipated." and "That coach hurt himself." and "The referee is a gnome." - Thankfully nobody was paying any attention to me, so that's for the best.
Engaging in meditation with unresolved issues during the day is quite difficult. But then you hear the chortle of your beloved feline and she jumps on your lap and starts to purr. Then all the natty bullshit that you’ve picked up from the broken and toxic human beings you are beset with just melts away.
Nothing matches the love of a cat. They fall asleep loving you and the last thing they saw was you counting your breathing.
Fucking human trash.
44 years old, Cancer with Gemini Rising, INFJ.
Embrace The Golden Rule, Life is Comedy.
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