My body is a temple to a dark and ancient god. Older than thought, its wisdom carved in my genes by a thousand and a thousand ancestors. It predates me, it will postdate me. It demands worship through cravings, through exhaustion, through pain. To sate its dark hungers I must move, I must rest. I must feed, I must fast. It craves the stillness of clear water and green things from the earth.
Those That Tremble as if They Were Mad
Ash: “Put that away.”
Me: “What?”
Ash: “Your whimsy.”
One sentence on each place in Europe that I’ve been, in order of preference. 🇳🇴 Oslo, Norway Perfection. 🇳🇴 Kristiansand, Norway Feels like walking through a storybook about mice that run a bookstore. 🇩🇪 Berlin, Germany I will spend the rest of my life angry that nowhere in the US has public transit this good. 🇱🇹 Klaipeda, Lithuania Purchased a book of soviet propaganda art from a woman who spoke almost no English, 10/10, no notes.
“What is soup, but a potion for the soul?”
— Ash
“The French are good at two things: bread. Snails.”
— Ash
“I was complaining about this game two yahtzees ago.”
— Ash
What is a curse if not a dark gift?
Me: “You’re Darmok, I’m Jalad, and together we are at Tanagra.”
Ash: “What? Oh, Star Wars.”
What’s up with me? Oh, just inventing a governance structure for a community of wizards. You?
The first question: “is he spiders?” There is no second question.
Shit's Fucked
“What a week, huh?” “Lemon, it’s Wednesday.” — 30 Rock, S4E2 “Into the Crevasse” Without exception, the smartest people I know are all in agreement that Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) is on the way in the next three years. That could mean a lot of things. Good things. Bad things. I think it’s reasonable to assume nobody can predict what the world will look like beyond that horizon.
Chat, are the vibes cooked?
Ash: “what’s the cutest mammal?”
Me: “are moths a mammal?”
By age 400 you should have:
- defeated at least one plant.
- three orbs, at least one of which is cursed.
- read half of the 100 Greatest Tomes list.
- five mortal enemies, two blood pledges, and one kingdom in your thrall.
What is outer space if not a soup?
Gondor calls for soup.
Folsom Street Fair is an anime convention.
No, I will not elaborate.
Saving $20 on airport food by spending $30 at Buc-Ee’s.
Yes I’ve seen the new Dune ornithopter from Lego. Call me when I can build Shai-Hulud; bless the Maker and His water. Bless the coming and going of Him.
The grandfather clock is currently haunted. It chimes randomly, often playing only part. The clocksman’s coming out next Sunday to gather the mechanism for repair, but until then I might not be the spookiest thing in my house.
I would like to propose the term “corporate dozen” to refer to any time or situation where a company has reduced the standard and customary amount of something in order to increase profits.
EX: “Most boxed cake mixes now only make a corporate dozen cupcakes due to shrinkflation.”
I’m currently on the weird part of the internet. Which is to say, the only part of the internet which is still good. I have found a blinking gif which says “soup enjoyer.” It feels like home.
Also, I would have £600 added yearly for the performance of charitable works, and those things I would not, neither will be, accountable for.