sometimes i have really weird thoughts that are even too weird for this forum (you guys being probably my most casual social circle by an order of magnitude)
I've gotten to the point where I have a fairly consistent record of recognizing when I am sleeping.
Then I exert executive control over the dream and turn it into a sex dream as soon as possible.
But a few minutes later I almost always wake up.
It is so depressing, I haven't figured out how to prevent myself from waking up once I've realized I'm dreaming.
0
OnTheLastCastlelet's keep it haimish for the peripateticRegistered Userregular
edited May 2012
I think my favorite poem these days is Poema 20 by Pablo Neruda. It used to be:
Reasons to Survive November by Tony Hoagland
November like a train wreck—
as if a locomotive made of cold
had hurtled out of Canada
and crashed into a million trees,
flaming the leaves, setting the woods on fire.
The sky is a thick, cold gauze—
but there's a soup special at the Waffle House downtown,
and the Jack Parsons show is up at the museum,
full of luminous red barns.
—Or maybe I'll visit beautiful Donna,
the kickboxing queen from Santa Fe,
and roll around in her foldout bed.
I know there are some people out there
who think I am supposed to end up
in a room by myself
with a gun and a bottle full of hate,
a locked door and my slack mouth open
like a disconnected phone.
But I hate those people back
from the core of my donkey soul
and the hatred makes me strong
and my survival is their failure,
and my happiness would kill them
so I shove joy like a knife
into my own heart over and over
and I force myself toward pleasure,
and I love this November life
where I run like a train
deeper and deeper
into the land of my enemies.
sometimes i have really weird thoughts that are even too weird for this forum (you guys being probably my most casual social circle by an order of magnitude)
these pair of pants i'm wearing have the deepest pockets. it's weird. they're significantly, significantly deeper than any pair of pants i've ever worn.
if i put my phone in my hip pocket, the standard ipod headphones barely reach my ears, and they're under tension when i stand up straight
I think my favorite poem these days is Poema 20 by Pablo Neruda. It used to be:
Reasons to Survive November by Tony Hoagland
November like a train wreck—
as if a locomotive made of cold
had hurtled out of Canada
and crashed into a million trees,
flaming the leaves, setting the woods on fire.
The sky is a thick, cold gauze—
but there's a soup special at the Waffle House downtown,
and the Jack Parsons show is up at the museum,
full of luminous red barns.
—Or maybe I'll visit beautiful Donna,
the kickboxing queen from Santa Fe,
and roll around in her foldout bed.
I know there are some people out there
who think I am supposed to end up
in a room by myself
with a gun and a bottle full of hate,
a locked door and my slack mouth open
like a disconnected phone.
But I hate those people back
from the core of my donkey soul
and the hatred makes me strong
and my survival is their failure,
and my happiness would kill them
so I shove joy like a knife
into my own heart over and over
and I force myself toward pleasure,
and I love this November life
where I run like a train
deeper and deeper
into the land of my enemies.
Al Emmo, the indie adventure game by the creators of the King's Quest remakes, is getting a new version.
They're removing the CGI cutscenes and replacing them with in-engine 2D cutscenes. And they're changing the main character's godawful voice, which is kind of hilarious too for reasons I'm too lazy to explain.
Posts
weirder than the shit you say normally?
:shock:
I've gotten to the point where I have a fairly consistent record of recognizing when I am sleeping.
Then I exert executive control over the dream and turn it into a sex dream as soon as possible.
But a few minutes later I almost always wake up.
It is so depressing, I haven't figured out how to prevent myself from waking up once I've realized I'm dreaming.
November like a train wreck—
as if a locomotive made of cold
had hurtled out of Canada
and crashed into a million trees,
flaming the leaves, setting the woods on fire.
The sky is a thick, cold gauze—
but there's a soup special at the Waffle House downtown,
and the Jack Parsons show is up at the museum,
full of luminous red barns.
—Or maybe I'll visit beautiful Donna,
the kickboxing queen from Santa Fe,
and roll around in her foldout bed.
I know there are some people out there
who think I am supposed to end up
in a room by myself
with a gun and a bottle full of hate,
a locked door and my slack mouth open
like a disconnected phone.
But I hate those people back
from the core of my donkey soul
and the hatred makes me strong
and my survival is their failure,
and my happiness would kill them
so I shove joy like a knife
into my own heart over and over
and I force myself toward pleasure,
and I love this November life
where I run like a train
deeper and deeper
into the land of my enemies.
i don't say weird things...
Last Castle is the Judge Dredd of haiku
5-7-5? Let's bottom line it to 5 and cut the fluff.
Louder than its size; how far
Can I kick the bitch
There may be other things in this world that are not exactly the way they like them to be, either. I will have to research this.
What about FATAL
Yeah I'm pretty sure what Thom posted here is a war crime.
"Not enough money for a scarf."
Especially since you can get them from Amazon for $76 with free shipping.
Nerds do not appreciate how amazing everything is.
If something isn't perfect then it's an affront to them personally.
Everyone should just take a step back and realize how fucking great everything is.
He proposed to her the first time they met.
She said no but for the next couple years he kept asking and eventually she said yes.
Write for example: «The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance».
The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.
Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.
What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.
That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me
The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.
I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.
Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.
I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.
Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.
Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.
and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
if i put my phone in my hip pocket, the standard ipod headphones barely reach my ears, and they're under tension when i stand up straight
fuck you inexplicably deep pants pockets
\m/
Well, if you are a Maester...
I have the Razer Naga Epic.
It is my favorite mouse ever, especially for MMOs.
It makes Ctrl and Alt 5-9 useful.
SOOO many hotkey shortcuts.
Let's play Mario Kart or something...
And then he got impeached and resigned the presidency the end!
Needs two images.
Wind swirls the branches;
Little dog, louder than your size,
where can I kick you?
Truly, there is no way that having some perspective could ever be a good alternative to having a bad argument about minutia.
poetry is gay
i know so on account of my literary science
My shoes clean
from walking
in the rain
People who knew me seem to think it's bad that I don't anymore.
Not being an MMO player I have a Logitech G700, and the hotkeys + DPI switch makes playing an FPS a transcendent experience.
Don't listen to this troll.
Al Emmo, the indie adventure game by the creators of the King's Quest remakes, is getting a new version.
They're removing the CGI cutscenes and replacing them with in-engine 2D cutscenes. And they're changing the main character's godawful voice, which is kind of hilarious too for reasons I'm too lazy to explain.
Spinning in circles is traditional to maintain dreaming. Do a pirouette and keep going at increasing speed.
When you stop you will probably be somewhere else do to the brain going ADHD mode in dreams, but whatever.
Think of it like 16th century Twitter.