I’m done. Just… fucking… done… trying. Like anything.

By the way, fuck every living soul passing judgment on an eighty-whatever-the-fuck man spent a lifetime battling a stuttering speech impediment for failing to find words in the face of a batshit buzzsaw. Just saying.

Perfection and imperfection aren’t opposites. They aren’t even mutually exclusive.

When you realize the listening never outlasts the qualifier contextualizing what you were actually wanting to communicate.

Less is more than less more or less

When the thought “I haven’t one positive thing in my life” shows up DOA.

This one could use an update. We couldn’t stand the clutter so now we just hold new arrivals to the flame and watch the halogen pop.

Side note: If y’all fuck this up now, I am rechristening the War of the Bubbles. Its new name shall be the War of the Bed Wetters

After four years sitting empty, I suppose I may as well stop paying for the email package I applied to moondeer.blog. I suppose I need to find out if I ever stopped paying Discourse for the right to link empty comment sections.

lets-be-friends-and-fuck is a specialization of lets-be-friends while touch-me is a specialization of notice-me ∴ there is already a dating app for forging adult friends IRL or humanity has gone all in on the one-way mirror service paradigm (image courtesy the Cali K9 app).

Stop calling me “sir”

The respect isn’t genuine so it makes me want to pull your balls out your mouth.

When you’re hanging out at Cali K9 waiting to be noticed, having arrived late (something you’ve done many times over the last 1 1/2 years you’ve been taking Kota there), when, finally, someone comes over to ask just the right questions. “You meant to be here? This your first class?”

“Nope, last.”

When doves cry Wolfman Jack strawberry fields forever my girls just wanna have fun run Lola runaway training day of the Dead Milkmen

Oh, lord… please don’t let me feel I’m understood

Wait. Do all mammals yawn? Do only mammals yawn? Do we know why?

Who are you if you haven’t anyone to tell?

Seeing familiar faces throughout one’s day/week/month/year is akin to doing whatever TF it is you get up to with your computer on a familiar operating system. Familiar face pools vary in size. Familiar face frequency requirements are adaptable and individually tuned. The crux, then, becomes the reliability of the familiar face pool as it relates to the currently tuned frequency requirement. An unproductive pool feels like sitting down before a virgin OS. A drained pool feels like the OS is language locked to something composed mostly of clicks.

When you realize that wandering about offering to squeeze crush aluminum cans with your hands would be a greater societal contribution than anything you’ve offered for the last 18 years… having just realized that palm pressing the dropped can of Bubbly was about as meaningful as your life gets.

When you realize you’ve aged out of remembering what having friends is like.

I suppose three is the first stable grouping since it adds the ability to keep two while discarding one.

When it takes fourty-whatever-it-is-now years to first wonder whether we are all recycling our saliva.

Raise your hand if you knowingly post shit like “Raise your hand” for what, in the best case scenario, would happen to be the scarce accidental audience with whom you’ve already disengaged.

What does all arithmetic have in common?

Okay, but what about uncountable sets?

Okay, smartass, then finish figuring out the connection that got me here:

destruction-as-specialized-creation-operation + memory-of-logic-circuits-and-arithmetic-op-construction ⟹ ?

If sleep ain’t a human right, then neither is breathing. Though, I am not sure human rights carry the same weight they had in the eighties when I first heard mention of them.

If there are any mentions waiting, don’t take it personally.