paradise

So I’m taking a break from my work sprint right now. Very welcome. Thanks, me. 

I’m writing from my iPhone on my trampoline in my trapezoidal bedroom. Also thanks. 

I ground down 265 trouble tickets to a paltry 197 in the span of a couple hours. Just as I think life can’t possibly get better, I learn that my husbands offstage meddling is him configuring his iPad Pro to feed our bedroom hifi sound system to play Royksopp and now 

my ears are subsequently gasminggggggggg 

like, it’s hard to come up with 1. Better rumbling keyboardage and 2. Calf workage so it’s literally really just another sunshine moment in paradise 

.:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:.

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

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019, at 15:23, Typing Practice wrote:

https://write.as/inquiry/paradise-re-found-paradise-writeas-com

Subject: fighting evil by moonlight

Date: Sunday, April 07, 2019 09:24

Ohhhh so THAAATSS where you were for the past few days. 

you know? Less thought is better. So much better. 

When I find myself imprisoned in sepulchers of thought – my own thought – it's never a good outcome for any involved. 

On the flip side, when i'm a flurry of fleeting emotion it's not good either. 

human machines are meant to be a blissful blend of both 

hands folded in happy harmony 

spending sundays waiting on their monday packages

better yet, listening to george michael that their friend sends them. packing up packages to send to friends. typing. plugging playstations weird places. thinking of lands far away that don't exist yet but will before you die. 

Gosh, he's beautiful, inn't he? Georg-o? I was gonna slip on something else, but I'm letting autoplay do its algorithmic magic and it's not doing such a bad bot job. the human fingers behind that playlist wizardry haven't failed me today. someone deserved a dime for this one. 

Omg Mae West is still around, what the fuck? I would have loved to see her live. alive. and in furs. I'm going to stick her in the playlist next. Golden age hollywood comedy is vastly much more entertaining to me than 1990s+. It has this rhythmic quippy quippy slippy slappy comedic pacing that doesn't happen now. (does it?) It has slapstick too, for the walking amygdalae who like that. Yup. Everything but the CGI. 

Brother, can you spare a dime? 

Like how is this even possible that Mae West is even on her feet in front of a mic in 2019 when she was on her feet in front of a mic in 1933? 

Oh. It's not. #wikipediaspoilsitagain

—- 

Had some funny write.as ideas in the bathtub with my husband the other day and I wholly let them slide down the drain with the water lol. Sometimes we leave some bathwater in the basin to humidify the room. Let's see if that's the case right now. Maybe I left a couple ideas in there. .... <checking> 

Ah, it was in that environment I laid out the rules (or, rather, non rules) for 17776 hockey. 

Dude? 

UV lights. They're wonderful. I have one as my desk lamp. Can never have enough of these. 

Right? 'Cause I was like:

“I can't think of any write/as ideas, I should incubate them with UV lights (not really)”

and my guy's like “Dude everything you talk about is a write/as idea y-u-no go with any of those”

and I be like “'cuz I don't remember anything I say because #nobackspaceever”

Right?

I'm like, not always near a keyboard.

To catch all these nickels from heaven. 

To stick in the coin slots ta the nickel arcade from heaven. 

Or at the jukebox to play george mick deep cuts from heaven. 

— 

fuck I wish all my friends hopped on an email and just sat here chewing the text with me. This is so my element.

—

#MildlyAnnoyedAtAmountOfPharmaSlashVitaminsOnDesk < #HealthWealthPursuitHappiness

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Words, Ideas, Magic(k) ©   Zem at BeTheFuture . Confidential communication. Protected by US & International law.

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019, at 21:23, Typing Practice wrote:

Zemma,

This guy was so fucking legit:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J1hwHiFIGg

An indescribably good day/night still in progress.

Less thought is always better, especially

when thought's saying more is better.

Just saw Mae West live for the first time, and she didn't at all live up to the hype.

Inquiry,

I love the idea of public writing to friends. Especially through the creature crawly comfort of my inbox. This reminds me wholly-totally of the early aughts Livejournal platform, which was fluently handled both in email inboxes and in browsers, from the bedrooms of teenagers and twenniesomethings scattered across multiverses in spacetime realities. We finally got to speak in asynchrony harmony bliss with each other. Usually at our own happy hours. Until Aim and ICQ brought us closer. The aughts. Why I aughtta.

“It's always 4AM somewhere!”

Some criticism (and rightfully so) that livejournal was full of mentally ill. But honestly? It was a place for us weirdoes to congregate before the internet went mainstream. Thanks for that, internet. Really. We needed that place. 

Did you know people in the 1940s ????s used to LITERALLY DIE of nostalgia? That's the origin of the word nostalgia! 

I could die a million delicious deaths of nostalgia. What a wonderful way to die. I imagine it's as wonderful as a heroin overdose. I obviously have zero experience in either. 

Looping back to what you said. I love talking to my friends in a public format, don't you? Isn't it explicitly exciting, this venture? As i sit here sipping this Kingslynn single estate tea, trying not to snort it out my nose? 

I guess it's as good a time as any to remind everyone to get up, stretch, and brush their teeth today. It's as good a time as any. 

With love, 
Paradise.

.:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:. Words, Ideas, Magic © Zem at BeTheFuture. Confidential communication. Protected by US & International law.

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019, at 11:38, Typing Practice wrote:
> So, not sure if this was where you were headed, but I really like the idea of public email a la:

https://inquiry.writeas.com/dear-paradise-paradise-writeas-com

(where of course the readership addressing at the top (e.g. “Dear ****,“, “Hi ***,“) is something else if to a group)

Good hair day. 

Didn't happen unless an attachment appears in the next 10 minutes.

Life is good. 

SO GOOD TO READ!

So, for example, an emailish post might follow this sort of template:

===

(Hi paradise)[https://paradise.writeas.com],

... blah blah ...

Regards,

(inquiry)[https://inquiry.writeas.com/]

===

Hola Friend. 

I am testing what it would look like if I wrote to both you and my ghostly companions by way of my personal write.as email address to the Paradise Substation of Write.as all at the same time. 

This is Test #1. 

So far, no carpal tunnel. 

So far, no tendonitis. 

So far, no desert dust storms. 

So far? So good. 

Let's wear our shades and commence atomic bomb testing in 5...4.....

.:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:..:~:.

Words, Ideas, Magic © Zem at BeTheFuture. Confidential communication. Protected by US & International law.

---

On Sat, Apr 6, 2019, at 21:23, Typing Practice wrote:

Zemma,

This guy was so fucking legit:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J1hwHiFIGg

An indescribably good day/night still in progress.

Less thought is always better, especially

when thought's saying more is better.

Just saw Mae West live for the

first time, and she didn't

at all live up to the

hype.

Hello world.

It's just another day in Paradise.

Speaking, is me, your humble narrator. Exquisitely avoiding the real-world-work for this morning.

“Real” world work, they say.

When “reality” is MUCH bigger than perceptibly possible, seeing as we're only perceiving 4% of it.

... Or so we think.

But that's neither here nor there.

The world of e-commerce needs its agents to quietly drone on, dragging their fingers across keyboards in hopes of kindling connections from across connections; keeping the semblance of happiness and engines of commerce turning, turning, turning, burning...

!

Stay groovy out there. Whatever you're doing. Let the sun warm your back as you plough through. I don't know what I'm doing here yet, but I'm not going to let you down.

Good afternoon, my cabbage.