Hello, I am a 300-odd trillion year old lightbeing taking the form of a human, perpetually writing blogs since the mid 1990s.

The gods have bestowed us a diamond.

Feast: Licking.

Thank you, gods.

Particularly you, Eris.

Well, actually Aneris in this case, since it's so delightfully “in order” here.

Sorry, Eris. When a building blows up and kills all the parents, but releases all the babies to kind loving homes, I'll thank you.

— .:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. published not proofread. #NeverLookBackspace! Words, Ideas, Magic copyrighted by Zem at BeTheFuture. this is confidential communication. Protected by US and International law.

The most terrible bouts of writer's block.

Must be edged by the most terrible streaks of reader's receptiveness

To plunge the clogged mindstreams.

To CURE the maladies which gobstop you in your typing tracks.

To unfreeze these fingers,

You spend your reader's receptiveness

on a cleansing mixed diet of trash tabloidial tablets AND Scientific American, European, and even Afrikaan.

Balance for the unbalanced

Being the fulcrum at which the unwashed masses and the ivory tower can connect, and daresay, even relate.

So that's the goal of this military exercise of the mind.

To brute force yourself

To digest the feast of another writer's mind

So you, too, can release the contents of your textual soul.

Easy as that.

— .:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. published not proofread. #NeverLookBackspace! Words, Ideas, Magic copyrighted by Zem at BeTheFuture. this is confidential communication. Protected by US and International law.

I spent the better part of a screen addicted hour reading this AskReddit thread about teachers' worst “apple doesn't fall far from the tree” stories.

I'm doing this at about 3am, while my 14 year old is playing a-god-knows-how long screen-addicted streak on Fortnite, casually blasting online friends with scathing obscenities and taunts.

It's a formula that makes for a fairly bad mood.

And it's like. When does one of these shitty parents notice when they're doing something wrong, if they ever do?

How do they ever get help?


I'm emotionally destroyed after the Game 7 VGK to SJS loss, so I made a picture to share my feelings and cope with the tragedy. I know other VGK fans out there are hurting, too. Sooo.. I made an art. (Behind the cut)


Secret Genius: How are you today?? Paradise: fucking wonderful, thank you for asking my love ive had a string of wonderful fucking days a rope, if you will Secret Genius: Oh goood! I been way better too Paradise: a transnational fibre optic superhighway in fact Secret Genius: Transnational fibre optic superhighway?? Paradise: haha… you know… instead of a string my string is just thick and good and long

  1. They are incredibly busy.
  2. They are incredibly not fucking busy.

Fortunately, I fall in #1's camp!

I'm #1, I'm a champ!



thumbs up.



I think will ultimately fail as it is....

It doesn't quite feel like a conversation yet.

It feels like a lot of lonely talking-to-oneself.


But I love that they're working on it more and more every day.

On Fri, Dec 21, 2018, at 19:48, Typing Practice wrote: Re: ha > so anyway it's really not complicated at all, it's the simplest thing > of all, really, but an individual mind is complication incorporated, > and so it's clear and obvious how and why shit should be so fucked, and > i'd love to care, but > > but a one-sided pontificate is no fucking fun at all > > it's just making up this and that > > with some weird abstract > > hope of maybe an > > interaction > > but there > > won't be > > so > > fuck >

Like how Swiss watchmakers ADD complications just because minds like things complicated.

You pay more for complication. Whether its artisanal or plain amateur's fuckedness.

(You pay doubleplusmore for simplicity again though)

These conversations you and me have, though, while ASYNCHRONOUS, feel totally in-moment. Which is an interesting bit of chemistry to talk about. Not everyone has this sort of between-screen charisma, so as much as I can publish it to the world and have (nobody/somebody) observe it, enjoy it, be entertained by it... that's a real good thing.

Another day in, Paradise

— .:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. published not proofread. #NeverLookBackspace! Words, Ideas, Magic copyrighted by Zem at BeTheFuture. this is confidential communication. Protected by US and International law.


Type, glorious type


I love Mark Stone.

Every time this 26 year old scores a goal, he pumps his entire 219 lbs through his fists and whoops with the force of his entire chest cavity (you can hear it bellow across The Fortress, 18,000 people away).

He celebrates EVERY goal is like its his FIRST goal, as though that first goal is scored on Dominik Hasek (who holds NHL goaltender record for highest saves and is otherwise legendary).

When Stone was first traded, his new teammates used to lean away from this bombastic display.

Now, he gives them fire. He gives all 18,000 people in The Fortress FIRE.

You can't buy excitement like that.

Well, Las Vegas bought excitement like that, to the tune of $76m/5 years.

So, you can buy excitement like that.

Excitement converts to inspiration, and inspiration converts to wonder. People pay a lot of money to sit stunned in wonder, inspiration, or excitement. These are all highly monetizable emotions.

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