This is the fiftieth consecutive 2 AM that I've failed to go to sleep by.\n\nToday is Sunday. When I go to sleep and wake up Sunday, I'll have to get started on my homework, which is due another 2 AM from now.\nI've put it off every night since it was assigned, waiting until 2 AM and realizing it's too late to start now.\nEvery day my sleep debt is building up. Soon the loan sharks of my mind will come and get me. They're circling.\nSoon my fucked-up schedule will manifest as a walking, resentful entity and strangle the living shit out of me.\nI need to go to sleep toot-sweet. If I don't get this under control I'm literally going to die.\n\nMy bed is right behind me. My dog is right behind me. I need to somehow bypass my dog and reach the bed and enter it.\n\nI'm hungry. I have no choice. gotta fill that stummo, get me some grub. Is there some food left? Probably... in the kitchen... [[down the hallway]]...
The Hobbit is a good book. I have read it many times before but this time seems especially good.\nA childlike sense of wonder at the primal ur-fantasy world returns to me.\n\nAs I see the story unfold, I watch the scenes paint themselves on the insides of my corneas - It's all ASCII.\nWhen I was young I frequently played a roguelike called Trouble of Middle Earth.\nNowadays it's quite different from what it was. I haven't played the new version.\n\nI don't think I even understood how to gain levels in that game, but I still played it all the time.\n\nThe grim nightmare grid of textual symbols, abstracted visions of a phantasmagoric fantasy world,\ncaught on something in my brain. I was too young and too uninformed to translate the symbols into the intended archetypal high fantasy.\nI didn't look at the Matrix-like cascade of dots and symbols and see dragons and red orcs and granite dungeons.\nI saw it as it was - letters and squiggles -\nand the typical childhood curiosity stained those mysterious sheets of text with fascinating colors,\nbringing to life a world of symbols that stood for nothing but themselves, and in so doing, became imagery of their own.\n\n[[<...>]]
Maybe I should be a vegetarian. I'm skinny enough as it is. I barely eat meat. Might as well take the plunge. My girlfriend is a vegetarian. I seriously haven't mentioned meat to her since we started going out, through a set of Coincidences. I wonder what she'll think. I wonder what a lot of people think. I will only ever wonder. I wish I could read minds. I gather that it's common to wish that. I barely eat meat as it is.\n\nI made a sandwich. This turkey is weird in some ineffable way. The fact that I'm consuming, holy shit, I'm stuffing a goddamn bird down my mouth. you eat a pig ou get big and strong and girrls are oaky with you, failing to accomplish the Ingestion Act signifies antisocial thoughts and damns one to an Ugly body, how dose ist mean thise limbs so frail. What a grotesque world we live in. How can one person deal with this violent mess? What can one person possibly do to mitigate the sheer horror of their existence? A beige spaceman blasts a bacon monster and eats the spoils. "Epic," he shouts triumphantl[[kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk]]
I cannot judge myself rationally from a third-person view, I know this.\nI might as well dig out my third eye with a fork.\nMy inner eye is all gross and gummed up with rheum that won't come off no matter how much silver detergent I slap at it.\nI second-guess every text my girlfriend sends me. Man, how could she make a mistake like this?? I usually trust her to make good decisions,\nbut here she is typing out little hearts to me. All I feel is this powerful love, I say love in my mind but haven't yet said it to her;\nin fact, the only person I've said that to are my parents and my best friend. And I truly, honestly mean it every time.\nI don't know if they can hear the desperate earnestness behind that phrase.\n\nHoly god, just listen to me. what a hack fucking dipshit invertebrate. [[You know what, fuck this, stop looking in the mirror]]
The Hobbit is a good book. I have read it many times before but this time seems especially good.\nA childlike sense of wonder at the primal ur-fantasy world returns to me.\n\n[[<.>]]
I hear my dog shifting uneasily in my room.\nI flick on one of the lights and find solace in its uneasy luminence. The house becomes safe again to walk through, or to dance or do jumping jacks or just lay down on the linoleum or hardwood or just the dog's bed in the corner of the living room or sunroom or just on the deck, outside.\n\nOpening up the fridge.\n\nI have never had to use a refridgerator's light before. I always turn on the house lights. I don't want to be left in the dark with my hands full of food. You can't run like that.\n\nThere's some pizza scattered on the floor, which I'm going to go ahead and leave. There is some old [[turkey]], appropriate for sandwiches.\n\nI don't trust my hands. They shake and spin and refabricate themselves into crabby claws. I crawl up a waterfall and drop back down at regular intervals. I spin my web in jungle trees and catch explorers riding logs down the river. I make a game of it - how many pith helmets can I collect? The answer, of course, is like a billion.\n\nThe counter steps into the graphic tiles and I've got crown cross corner of a pith helmet closed claw crystal pith helmets.
Back in my room. Pretty full! You can read something easy and beautiful and fall asleep happily.\n\nCovers on.\n\nGot your book, light's on, feelin' fine. Work can wait. (It's too late for that anyway.)\nMy old black dog snoozes lovingly on the floor. I've had her since I was little kid and I love her more than life itself.\nHer name is Cucumber, Cuke for short. I named her this because her tongue is long, like a Cucumber.\nLike I said, you were really little.\n[[Her eyes are cloudy]] but she can still see and bark loudly with her puppy-like voice and love.\nI'm lucky to have a pet like her.\n\nComfy. Nice to finally be [[in bed]].
One day my dog will die and I will cry for days straight.\n\nIt will be terrible.\n\nOkay stop thinking about that. You are reading The Hobbit [[in bed]].
I stalk down the hallway, hunched low to the ground, imagining as always a fat man with sickly greenish face lurching forward, and why's he approaching me, you ask? - I've never gotten that far in the story before reaching one end of the hall.\n\nIt is 2:01 AM and I am [[in the kitchen]].\n\nLet's see what we got...
In middle school I never imagined for a second that I could have a girlfriend.\nAll the endless anger and, just emotions in general I guess, that I didn't even try to reign in,\nthat I never even tried to see from an outsider's perspective.\nFocus on excessive commodity and see power and passion in things that have neither.\nSo much love misdirected. So much time wasted. So much mute horror that I refused to accept\nbecause it would mean acknowledging that I'm the problem. What a load of bullshit!!!\n\nIn middle school, I was never bullied. I see now that it was probably mostly because I was friends with a big, popular guy.\nThe alternative was that several generations of students in a public school in a rural place were preternaturally tolerant and forgiving to a acne-scarred,\nfrightfully skinny kid with hair down to the small of his back. I doubt this. I doubt this strongly.\nI was never bullied, so I bullied myself, and fuck it, I'd bully myself now. Seeing the scum the wizard summoned you from is always unpleasant.\nSeeing the pool that you rose out of, gleaming slightly in the sunset shining through the tower bars, splashing gunk on the flagstone.\nSo much is unpleasant that shouldn't be, and so much is pleasant that couldn't be, at least to anyone with a functioning brain.\n(i.e. not a changeling replacing a real human, a life where everyone's too polite to point out your skin is peeling off your void body)\nLor grant me this wish I want to be a real boy\n\n[[Stop bein a dysthymic lunkhead]]
goodnight moon\n\nzzzzz
After stripping the tinfoil mass of a quarter of the leftover pizza inside,\nI crudely rewrapped the lump and set it down on the gleaming \n\ncounter. I placed the extracted slices onto a plastic plate with a picture of\nWinnie the Pooh that had already been set down on the gleaming \n\ncounter. I picked up the aluminum nodule and opened the microwave and attempted\nto place it inside. I got as far as closing the microwave door \n\nbefore it came to me, shockingly, that I had gotten the order and place of things\nbadly wrong. I took out the mass and replaced it with my \n\nplastic plate on which pizza slices had been placed. I placed the mass back in the\nrefridgerator, but not before opening the fridge door, then \n\nclosing it. Unfortunately I got the order of things rather wrong again and the mass\ncollided with the closed fridge door, dropping from my hand \n\nonto the floor, on which black dog hairs and sourdough crumbs had been placed. I revolved\non the spot, approaching the microwave and \n\nrefridgerator at the same time. I picked up the mass and threw it at the microwave,\nwhich sat there like a dead toad. After retrieving the mass \n\nfrom the gleaming counter, I grew tired of wasting time and threw it at the fridge.\nIt smashed into the door and exploded, a congealed mass of \n\ndelicious leftover pizza dropping to the floor and becoming tragically inedible.\nI revolved and revolved in horror and confusion. I pressed \n\nbuttons on the microwave until my snack began to be heated. I walked over and picked\nup the fallen pizza and tinfoil. After sadly staring at it \n\nfor the space of fifty seconds, as I could tell by the timer I had just set, I let the\nuseless food and wrapping fall to the dirty floor out of \n\nmy hands, watching the biggest piece of them all, which I had been saving for dinnertime tomorrow,\nsmash into the ground cheese-side-down to the sound of \n\n[[the microwave's strident beeps]].
Hungry, still. It seems less important. I drink from a faucet protruding from the checkered floor. It quenches me and soothes my thirst. A big stupid smile spreads across my face and my lower jaw trickles down to the ground.\n\nAlso, another need appears, apparently walking in single file with hunger and now unobscured. Need to piss. There is no good way to phrase this.\n\nBack up the hall I go, taking a right halfway through and entering [[a dark room covered in mirrors]]...
The sandwich was pretty tasty and now you're not hungry. A wave of sleepiness washes over you... you really feel like hitting the sack!\n\n[[Back down the hall!]]
I hear my dog shifting uneasily in my room.\nI flick on one of the lights and find solace in its artificial radiance. The house becomes safe again to walk through, or to dance or do jumping jacks or just lay down on the linoleum or hardwood or just the dog's bed in the corner of the living room or sunroom or just on the deck, outside.\n\nOpening up the fridge.\n\nI have never had to use a refridgerator's light before. You always turn on the house lights. I don't want to be left in the dark with my hands full of food. You can't run like that.\n\nThere is a big lump of tinfoil containing leftover [[pizza]]. There is some old turkey, appropriate for sandwiches. And some [[sriracha]].
The Hobbit is a good book. I have read it many times before but this time seems especially good.\nA childlike sense of wonder at the primal ur-fantasy world returns to me.\n\nAs I see the story unfold, I watch the scenes paint themselves on the insides of my corneas - It's all ASCII.\nWhen I was young I frequently played a roguelike called Trouble of Middle Earth.\nNowadays it's quite different from what it was. I haven't played the new version.\n\nI don't think I even understood how to gain levels in that game, but I still played it all the time.\n\nThe grim nightmare grid of textual symbols, abstracted visions of a phantasmagoric fantasy world,\ncaught on something in my brain. I was too young and too uninformed to translate the symbols into the intended archetypal high fantasy.\nI didn't look at the Matrix-like cascade of dots and symbols and see dragons and red orcs and granite dungeons.\nI saw it as it was - letters and squiggles -\nand the typical childhood curiosity stained those mysterious sheets of text with fascinating colors,\nbringing to life a world of symbols that stood for nothing but themselves, and in so doing, became imagery of their own.\n\nI would play a magic-user and try to attack everything with a knife.\nI would play a possessing spirit and jump onto the backs of the giant hydras south of the starting town, hungry for their power.\nI would go through each store in town and meticulously try to steal the most expensive item from each.\nMost of the time I'd fail, but on those moments that I successfully snagged some rare and powerful good right from the get-go,\nI'd tear off into the wilderness, crashing the brush and smashing through trees, hooting and waving the big axe or whatever above my head\nbefore ultimately running into a grey mold on dungeon level 1 and dying of poison, my spore-laden body collapsing beneath its stolen treasure.\nI took a fatalistic attitude towards my characters and never got very involved with them emotionally. They never lived long enough.\nIn the end, it was only one character, deranged, ape-like, infinitely resurrecting himself to charge down those stairs again - me.\nIn the guise of half-orcs, trolls, dwarves, Ents, strong or weak, male or female, I ran into the waiting arms of death again and again and again,\nand that, to me, was the most fun way I could spend a rainy Saturday afternoon.\n\n[[<... ... ...>]]
Maybe I should be a vegetarian. I'm skinny enough as it is. I barely eat meat. Might as well take the plunge. My girlfriend is a vegetarian. I seriously haven't mentioned meat to her since we started going out, through a set of Coincidences. I wonder what she'll think. I wonder what a lot of people think. I will only ever wonder. I wish I could read minds. I gather that it's common to wish that. I barely eat meat as it is.\n\nI made a sandwich. This turkey is weird in some ineffable way. The fact that I'm consuming, holy shit, I'm stuffing a goddamn bird down my mouth. you eat a pig ou get big and strong and girrls are oaky with you, failing to accomplish the Ingestion Act signifies antisocial thoughts and damns one to an Ugly body, how dose ist mean thise limbs so frail. What a grotesque world we live in. How can one person deal with this violent mess? What can one person possibly do to mitigate the sheer horror of their existence? A beige spaceman blasts a bacon monster and eats the spoils. "Epic," he shouts triumphantlkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkerererer\n\nDisgusting. IT'S ALL TOO GODDAMN SICKENING. THE WHOLE WORLD HAS HEPATITIS. I'M BLOOD BEING POISONED. WE'RE ALL UNDER SIEGE BY BACTERIOPHAGES, and in the INSTANT you pay too much attention, you SUDDENLY REALIZE just how STUPID AND UGLY the entire planet is, and you in particular. Does perceiving ugliness make one ugly? Is beauty the eye of the beholder? I WANT TO VOMIT OUT MY EVERY INNARD AND NEVER THINK ABOUT THINGS AGAIN.\n\nEVERYONE IS AS FUCKED AS ME AND THEY JUST DON'T WANT TO ADMIT IT. WE ALL HAVE OUR PETTY FAULTS AND FLAWS THAT MAKE US SO DAMNABLY HUMAN, SO ABJECTLY POISONED WITH BAD GENES THAT WE SHOULD BE BORN HOMO SAPIENS. [ WE ' RE TOXICANTS ! ! WE ' RE ALL GOD DAMN MISERABLE ! DEMON BEASTS FROM ANOTHER PLACE , DESCEND AND SLAY THE HUMAN RACE ! ! ] SLAVING AWAY, BEING MARGINALIZED AND DISENFRACHISED, CURSED WITH OBJECTIFICATION AND CATEGORIZATION, SO MUCH LABELLING, SO MUCH POINTLESS TERROR THAT I'M COMPLICIT IN BECAUSE I'M TOO DUMB AND SCARED AND SCRAWNY TO DO ANYTHING ELSE. \n\n[Yeah, I'll ACKNOWLEDGE your racist/homophobic/sexist/transphobic jokes without CALLING YOU ON YOUR BULLSHIT, because the fact that you're HALF-MEXICAN clearly makes you informed about the world, clearly makes you NOT a TOTAL PIECE OF SHIT. I feel fucking ashamed that people call you my friend, and I never correct them, and you, you say I'm your friend too. When I SEE you, I know I won't feel this way, that I'll remember your GENEROSITY and INTELLIGENCE and the anger I only feel when I'm not looking at you will trickle away. But OH HOW IT HAUNTS ME NOW. I don't know HOW to feel and really that's the core of my vapid problems, or one of the several. THERE'S NO GAMEFAQS FOR LIFE AND I CAN'T DEAL WITH IT!!!!!]\n\nAll my strength is illusory. All I have to do to feel terrible is pay attention to the world around me, or even just play a game, read a book by someone I respect, and instantly my abilities fade and my efforts fail. All I have to do is stop spending half my time whining, and I can't tell whether I can think my way out of this or whether it's chemical and I just have to work around it. ALL I HAVE TO DO IS RUN HEADFIRST INTO A TREE AND I WOULDN'T HAVE TO GIVE A SHIT THAT NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING IS STUFFED TO THE GILLS WITH SIN AND SUFFERING AND THAT IDIOT HOPE THAT GIVES CREDENCE TO THE STUPID LIES WE TELL OURSELVES. [[A SPECIES SO TERRIBLE MUST BE CRAZY TO CONTINUE ATTEMPTING TO EKE OUT A LIFE LIKE THIS!]]
It's just one big mirror, situated above the counter and stretching far across it. The bathroom is longer than it is wide. Mirror.\nThere's something moving in it, beneath the faint marks where I finger-paint a picture of a cat in the steam every morning.\nFlip on a light and am surprised again at how I look.\n\nAs I examine myself, the skinnyfat cisgender pale lump with the crunching bones and doofy eyes + short hair that's still too long...\nnot finishing that sentence.....\nI am a goddamn impostor. I can see a guy staring back from the mirror and he looks like a douchebag. A cartoon character who is a douchebag.\nI see a bunch of velvet worms in the armor of a crab.\nGummi worms squirming beneath the surface. That's why I've always liked the pointless things. I ingest them and add to my power.\nDown the hatch, not even chewing, because having your mech find you another person to keep you company and then having the mech chew them is...\ndistressing...\nI play music but could never call myself a musician. I'm not part of a group.\nDoing things is something other people do.\nSomething people do.\nI exist and breathe and suck all the good things out of the world for other people. This shell has no worth.\nThrow it back into the ocean. It's [[not even pretty]].
and how TERRIBLE it is for your every form of creative expression to fall short of those that you admire.\nwhen all you can produce is HOLLOW GARBAGE bereft of true meaning, you learn to REVEL in FILTH AND UGLINESS,\nostensibly DELIBERATE but you k n o w t h a t ' s a l i e \n\nb e c a u s e \n\ny o u ' r e \n\nt h e \n\no n e \n\nt e l l i n g \n\ni t \n\n[[. . .]]
The Hobbit is a good book. I have read it many times before but this time seems especially good.\nA childlike sense of wonder at the primal ur-fantasy world returns to me.\n\nAs I see the story unfold, I watch the scenes paint themselves on the insides of my corneas - It's all ASCII.\nWhen I was young I frequently played a roguelike called Trouble of Middle Earth.\nNowadays it's quite different from what it was. I haven't played the new version.\n\nI don't think I even understood how to gain levels in that game, but I still played it all the time.\n\n[[<..>]]
No\n\nstill I totally recognize how fucking insipid my problems are\n\nA businessman walks out of a swamp, brushing the vines off his shoulder, clutching a briefcase made of tree roots and a few leg bones from a bog \nbody of unknown name and gender, the details of which could never be determined, it being an heirloom of the mutated swamp family for so long, in \nthat way of families to deify and objectify simultaneously, clutching a box of wet papers expertly lashed together with weeds and reeds, and he is stoked\nthat he's finished the Swamp Zone and doesn't have to return. The whole world is the Swamp Zone, subdivided into Bog and Slough. Bonus zone is the Marsh.\nIt is full of deadly gaseous clouds and owl-spiders. He hasn't got a clue.\n\nI want to punch him in the face.\n\nI want to punch everyone in the face. But I don't eat enough to make it hurt. If I don't eat, I will die.\nIf I do eat, I will die. I will die if I eat. I don't want to hurt anyone. If I don't eat, though, I'll hurt. I'll die. I will eat.\n\nIt is 2:06 AM and I am in the kitchen.\n\n[[Let's see what we got...]]
BEEP BEEP Error report:\n\nWhile living I have somehow become a total fruitcake, please send someone out here to my chickenhouse to come fix me\n\nSpecs: White male, bisexual but with a girlfriend so it never comes up,\nfeels like he has zero real hardship (no gender dysphoria, no racial discrimination, etc.) and zero stock in complaining about the world/his lot in it\n\nbut everything feels so hideously, drastically wrong\n\n[[You have been Poisoned!!]]
The Hobbit is a good book. I have read it many times before but this time seems especially good.\nA childlike sense of wonder at the primal ur-fantasy world returns to me.\n\nAs I see the story unfold, I watch the scenes paint themselves on the insides of my corneas - It's all ASCII.\nWhen I was young I frequently played a roguelike called Trouble of Middle Earth.\nNowadays it's quite different from what it was. I haven't played the new version.\n\nI don't think I even understood how to gain levels in that game, but I still played it all the time.\n\nThe grim, nightmare grid of textual symbols, abstracted visions of a phantasmagoric fantasy world,\ncaught on something in my brain. I was too young and too uninformed to translate the symbols into the intended archetypal high fantasy.\nI didn't look at the Matrix-like cascade of dots and symbols and see dragons and red orcs and granite dungeons.\nI saw it as it was - letters and squiggles -\nand the typical childhood curiosity stained those mysterious sheets of text with fascinating colors,\nbringing to life a world of symbols that stood for nothing but themselves, and in so doing, became imagery of their own.\n\nI would play a magic-user and try to attack everything with a knife.\nI would play a possessing spirit and jump onto the backs of the giant hydras south of the starting town, hungry for their power.\nI would go through each store in town and meticulously try to steal the most expensive item from each.\nMost of the time I'd fail, but on those moments that I successfully snagged some rare and powerful good right from the get-go,\nI'd tear off into the wilderness, crashing the brush and smashing through trees, hooting and waving the big axe or whatever above my head\nbefore ultimately running into a grey mold on dungeon level 1 and dying of poison, my spore-laden body collapsing beneath its stolen treasure.\nI took a fatalistic attitude towards my characters and never got very involved with them emotionally. They never lived long enough.\nIn the end, it was only one character, deranged, ape-like, infinitely resurrecting himself to charge down those stairs again - me.\nIn the guise of half-orcs, trolls, dwarves, Ents, strong or weak, male or female, I ran into the waiting arms of death again and again and again,\nand that, to me, was the most fun way I could spend a rainy Saturday afternoon.\n\n...\n\nI'm seventeen, and so much of me still feels like I'm ten, crying because my single-digit youth has slipped away.\nI don't feel at all like I'll be an adult in less than a year. I don't know if that's typical. Maybe we all grow up too fast.\nIt is horrible and strange to live consciously like this and it feels so lonely, but it's been much happier recently, actually "CREATING" and "EXPRESSING".\nBreaking out of the doldrum habits and poking/permuting the ideas fermenting in my brain after hours of poring over howling dogs and monster killers.\nFinally feeling like I have a grip on where I belong, however tenuous. Existing in the same mini-epoch as my creative idols. (HOLY GOD I GOT A LONG WAY TO GO.)\nFor several months now I've been obsessing over myself and my stupid thoughts and my really stupid past and I feel like I'm finally getting past it all.\nMaybe I'll be looking at this in a year, shaking my head and wondering how I could have thought this shit up. Maybe I'll be doing that tomorrow.\nMaybe this is the last part of my childhood - the final, molasses-slow reasoning process that concludes by fully shaking off my self-installed creative chains,\nendless self-hatred and cyclical defeatism finally crystallizing into motivation and creative will, the putrid bile cesspool draining out of my body.\nSo no more regret, no more hatred, no more idiot misery \nNever again that desperate sticking certainty of a world honeycombed with pain, transmogrified in my eyes into a permanent hellscape, the moon-cold guarantee of worthlessness flickering in technicolor before my telescoping eyelids\nPlease biochemicals cooperate, please brain be strong as I forge towards the sunrise\n\nYou turn your head over to the cubical digital clock beside my bed\n\nand it is 3:24 AM\n\n[[Go to sleep you dork]]
There is a dog in the junkyard. At the end of this story she is disemboweled. For now, she is an adequate guard.\n"H" regards me blankly in the dim brown light of the flickering spirit orbs attached to our flashlights,\ngreedily sucking out the delicious energy brimming from the batteries.\nWe have the dog on the leash. The leash is in "H"'s hand. The flashlights are in my hand, "H"'s other hand, and the dog's mouth.\nWe don't have enough mana for an exorcism or enough money for a doctor. How foolish we were not to take the g\n\n[[Look back in the mirror you twerp you are a coward]]\n\nNote to self: stop addressing self as "you", creates nonsensical dichotomy while thinking
I got this on advice of my brother and it was a terrible decision. He is the only one that can put up with it. I invite him over and watch my pain juice supplies slowly drop, sighing in relief.\n\nI'm not even going to look at the bottle anymore. I am getting some of that [[pizza]] matter or a bit of that [[turkey]] jazz.