incommune

Craigslist ad for freelance writers in Iowa City says in one line, 'will be reviewing dating and adult websites' and then in another line 'you will be able to write about subjects you love'.

Perhaps they should have been more specific in the headline of the ad? 'Freelance Writers who Love Porn and The Ladies wanted; Iowa City.'

I posted two items for sale. An air compressor, and a coffee maker. I just received the following email:

Hey.
I am mailing you regarding your post.
I find your post nice.
I am good looking woman. I am coming to your place in few days.
and looking for a male to show me around.
This way we could discover each other.
I am going to send you my image when you answer.
I am coming from European part.
Caio!

Pure poetry. <3 Can't wait to meet 'Lisa'!

[watching Live Free or Die Hard]

jodotha: Hey look! It's Tupac! Err... Tuvac!

(12:43:51 PM) thisseverance: what kind of an answer is 'I don't know'?
(12:44:32 PM) jesusmcmurphy (williamlee): What kind of question is that?
(12:44:50 PM) jesusmcmurphy: I'm a dude, we're not supposed to understand our feelings. Sheesh, bitch.

...

(12:50:51 PM) thisseverance: Dude, did you see how much of a married-person fight that just was?
(12:51:54 PM) jesusmcmurphy: ...
(12:51:59 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Oh god, we're soulmates.
(12:53:17 PM) thisseverance: ...you didn't know that?
(12:55:19 PM) jesusmcmurphy: I did.
(12:55:23 PM) jesusmcmurphy: I just ignored it.
(12:55:27 PM) jesusmcmurphy: As much as possible.
(12:55:39 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Because I hate you.
(12:55:58 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Damn, it'd be fucking weird if we actually were soulmates
(12:56:23 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Especially since I don't necessarily believe in soulmates.
(12:56:40 PM) thisseverance: 'necessarily' means you do but you don't want to sound like a pussy.

Anyone who said they'd write to me, email me your address to crows@halflit.net and I will reply with mine.

<3

(11:30:40 PM) jesusmcmurphy: Everything that is wrong in my life is your fault. Because you're a witch and can do that.

A side effect of the world becoming real, again: I'm tired of 'social networking'. I'm bored with much of the internet. Facebook annoys the piss out of me. Twitter's good for a quick laugh now and again, but it's never been a lot more than that to me. I've been drifting in and out of touch with LiveJournal and similar blogging for years. More and more, it feels like this giant crowded room full of chatter and not enough substance. Hearing about the euphoria and tragedy in the lives of loved ones through this media makes me feel so disconnected, so much like I can't offer anything to the people I care about. It means nothing that I RT or click 'Like' or drop some seventeen-word comment that I'm thinking of you.

But I am thinking of you. Through it all, this remains.

Who will write letters to me? I will write letters to you.

http://crows.dreamwidth.org

There's nothing there, yet. But let me know where you are and I will come find you.

(11:22:51 AM) jesusmcmurphy: Gonna have a baby today?
(11:23:15 AM) thisseverance: I'm not due for a few more months.
(11:23:27 AM) jesusmcmurphy: It's mine. Isn't it.
(11:23:36 AM) thisseverance: ... are you accusing me of cheating on you?
(11:23:46 AM) thisseverance: I can't believe this.
(11:23:55 AM) jesusmcmurphy: I know. Don't beat around the bush.
(11:24:04 AM) thisseverance: ... that's what she said.

And nothing below us to break the fall...

( Read more... )

Not sure what to make of all that business.

I am afloat in the abundance of love in my life.

It is raining beautifully.

Happy birthday to me :)

<3

I think my subconscious is running around having all its fun without me during the day as much as the night; I'm starting to have that 'dreams I can't quite remember' feeling all the time. Not about what I'm actually doing and interacting with, thankfully, but in fragments of other images floating around behind my eyes. There was one today, something I really remembered - if briefly - that slipped away. I'm hoping I find it again. It's in here somewhere.

And the Sibyl, with raving lips uttering things mirthless, unadorned, and unperfumed, reaches over a thousand years with her voice, thanks to the god in her.

The last night we spent inside the city of Munich, I did not sleep, but lay stiller than death among the blankets in Isolde's second bedroom. The deafening silence of the walled room around me grew thinner as I listened, the darkness of the shuttered windows fading to grey in front of my eyes. Very faintly, I could hear them breathing in the other room; I could hear the very beating of their hearts, impossibly, through their blankets, through the air and the walls.

The ceiling above me sharpened in the pale light that filled my field of vision, cast by nothing and coming from no direction; not so much light as a simple absence of darkness. Remotely, fear tugged at my consciousness, but I could not grasp it for more than a few seconds at a time. In the stillness, the tiny sounds of the two doctors sleeping in the adjacent room slowed like a clock that has come unwound. The change was almost imperceptibly subtle; a matter merely of fractions of seconds nosing their way into the space between their heartbeats. I must have lay there, motionless and wide-eyed, for a year before, finally, no more heartbeats came.

Such a feeling of empty loneliness overtook me in that utter void of sound that I could not even categorize the feeling as despair. Despair, to me, denotes a loss of hope that once existed in the mind; this thing that hung over me vigilantly was the annihilation of hope's history, as though all up-turned glances had been erased from my very memory.

Finally, I closed my eyes. They grey space in the room around me drew the breath from my body.

A Prisoner remake? With Ian McKellen? Do any of you know anything about this??

Two more nights, and still nothing, or little.

( Dreams )

(09:41:26 PM) Sidhril: Man, at this rate you love me about as much as you love pie.
(09:41:26 PM) Sidhril: AND EVEN THAT IS IN QUESTION.

I've been dreaming in broken images that I don't remember, except for in slips. The last of my dreams this morning, as I skipped along the surface unwilling or unable to drop back under but unprepared to leave my bed, was particularly vivid and cohesive, however. So I'll write it down, because I mean to record these things more often.

( Read more... )

Breathe in, breathe out... exhale, and inhale.

I wondered for a long time last night whether or not I should start keeping a metaphysical diary again. It's been a number of years. I'm not sure.

Now reading Blindsight, by Peter Watts.

OMFG

Fucking awesome.

That is all.

Me: You're suffering in the wilderness right now.
vayleen the wilderness needs a new espresso machine

To follow, a lengthy and poetically worded update about What's Really Going On in my life.
( Read more... )

I love you. I love you.