what I spent december thinking about: Most of the month was very pleasant, spent thinking about this site, gifts to give, diet and exercise,. In the ladder half christmas was taxing mentally and new years took it out of me fully, and also instigated a breif period of great suffering. I was perhaps the happiest I have ever been while working on this website this month. In january I want to resume the state of peacful deficit I obtained before christmas, continue to be productive while my husband is gone for a while, and work on formulating exactly what I want this diary to be...
this is the last day ill let myself work on this page
Even if i did have free will, all of my contributions to the world would be effaced in an infinitely infinitesimal fraction of time, which to the human mind would be an impossibly long eternity. Given that the human mind is our only reality, I have no choice but to deem it long enough. Human subjectivity is what we're designed for, but the new religion of the current regime fails to give any importance to the “subjective” matters of existence. I can't submit complacently to the illogical morality of this culture. They claim to worship objectivity and to have abolished the tyranny of religion, but moral piety is as venerable a quality as it was in the Victorian period. Everyone must suffer a great cognitive dissonance to not be able to recognise the sanctimoniousness that has been exaggerated so greatly that it now envelops every moral issue with a brier of proper mental conduct. It is fascinating that white people are expected to posses such a radicalized “empathy” can be radicalized degree that liking yourself at all is seen as evil regardless of if it affects anyone else. Its as if there is such an obvious supperiority of Evolution (our creation myth) is so thoroughly incompatible with these ideals. It requires only a rudimentary understanding of Darwinism to see that this absurd psychological virus is antagonistic to the survival of any lifeform. I would much rather see the members of my sub-species die by their own hand before they fell prey to the prostitution of their souls to those who wish them dead. But alas, I must isolate myself deep within my mind, fore even if these philosophical zombies may seem irreversibly rotten, I still hold out hope for a cure. Because I want to believe that it is not human nature that is inherently flawed, but the evolutionary mismatch between human nature and the mecha it has managed to construct. Are the current ruling elite so incompetent that they forgot to utilize the resources of the most technologically advanced and wealthy machine in the world to come up with a way to keep all the gears oiled? Education is a necessity for every citizen, and we are all plugged into the information superhighway at all times, it has never been easier to control the population. If Belle Delphine can influence an entire generation into acting and dressing a certain way, then why is the government seemingly incapable of tossing a bone to the overzealous population of would-be devout Christians within its borders? Did a society change forever by ww2 learn nothing from weimar? Either way, many of them will inevitably bring their bloodlines to an end, leaving a strange new ecological niche for my descendants to fill. Ultimately, my only hope is that I prepare them well for this challenge. Even if its an objectively mechanistic task only to propagate the meat grinder on our little anthill that is earth, I still want to play the game of life as it was in conception, free from the confusions of a postmodern world, that ancient law which captains even dogs and plants, from the first cells to the last atom. I can't give up and kill myself just because most people are retarded , not that i have a problem with quitting the game when 8.1 billion RETARDS are shitting up the same server, but ultimately ill die someday so i might as well wait and see what history spells out for the world while i'm in it.
waves of earth hung on the horizen a hem of azure. the symphonic fat clap of a frightened flock flap accross the water.
quiet before the sweet breath of spring stirs the little things to breed. a stirring flurry of lust abounds to chase the soft little bodies about. a newborn baby rabit watching his father then mounts sister rabbit but she bears no babies yet.
a nuclear plant exploded in india killing 100,000. does it matter at all? it happened 100 years before your birth, are you still sad? just kidding I lied completely. thats how much it doesnt matter at all.
If necessary, I could rationalize my feelings away with logic as it pertains to many moral issues which empathy is responcible for processing. But as I age, molestation is the one thing that makes me feel hopeless. Is it a motherly instinct? or fomo...
How is it that the body and mind share so many needs, except for when the mind deviates from the instincts of all other known lifeforms to say something as abstract as "i need a purpose?", "i need to know my place in the universe"? It is schizophrenicly absurd.
New years resolutions!
This january marks one year living with my husband. I've gotten a taste of how good life can be, so all my resolutions are merely a continuation of the things im already doing.
Boredom... I became sober at the start of the year, then gradually was able to crawl out of depression when I stared lifting in october, in the process I learned how vapid and soul sucking over-stimulation is, and how radically it has altered our minds and culture. I want to continue to reap the benefits of living with my own thoughts. To add to this goal, I want this to be the year I finally repair my attention span to the point that I can read books for fun.
LIFTING! No matter if I wish for it or not, the gains will come... I hope I continue on the upward trend of enjoying lifting more and more, and continue to put on mass and increase the weight I can move! I will escape the SUPER TORTURE that is being in this body!!!!!!!!. yeah.. dats all about me -_-...
Bio mechanisms grind heat in factories of heat, pouring heat, feeding on heat. The mouse, the plant, the sun, all hungry. We recognize this cardinal rule, and thus, there was machinery. and it was good. I saw a advert for "real machine bones" yesterday, apparently they are a distant relative of the internet, washed away by the wrath of the free market. The holy hand of commerce. But our souls are so much better. and smaller. and wet with cooling paste, we eat raw heat and light, we scour an infinitely small catalog of human consciousness.
Metaphors are the nature of every object, how exactly.. Do you define anything without understanding its relation to everything else? This is why the "consciousness question" (or that of the soul) bothers me so immensely! To invent a tool, you must be able to relate the many memories which constitute our conceptions of things with that which you are viewing. You must be able to say "I once shaded myself under a banana leaf" and understand that the concept of shelter is not a banana leaf, but a metaphor which can be applied to anything that covers. Given that this system of pattern recognition was beneficial enough for survival to be passed on, I believe this to be the process which invented consciousness. Because to understand ourselves as individuals, we must first observe and understand others as equally individuals. The knowledge that being a living sensing person is not a unique experience that only you hold claim to, is not endowed in us at birth, but a conclusion most can and will only deduce (with little enthusiasm) after enough socialization and cognitive development. You can only say "I am" so far as you understand what you are not. For instance, if you lived in complete isolation since birth, consciousness would not be a concept you could fathom, as your understanding of the world would have never been severed from your experience of it.
Today I inspected the subtile etching of blue upon the musculature of my arm. And too, submerged my hands in the thick black ooze beneath the green facade of a nearby park. Contained within my pilfered grocery bag of earth were the unintentional hostages of root systems which mirrored my vascular structure identically, in form and function. I feast on my twins for every meal, i eat their skin and fat and muscle as if it was not egregiously identical to my own. And yet, so few wish to admit that if our flesh be the same, in every inch forged of identical composure, that perhaps our futility, purpose, source, and experience are also versions of eachother shaped by evolutionary niche. This process of pattern recognition, or "metaphor" is the only way I can understand the world. I belive that this is the closest thing to the foundation of logic that humans not versed in the sciences can achieve.
We share this basic level of consciousness achieved by sensory perception and pattern recognition (or cognition) with many other animals. I like to imagine that I can acquire a rudimentary sense of the non-human phenomenology with the lens of understanding (metaphor) which I have detailed thus far. They too understand the world through its function, and adapt even to the alien environments we impose on them by utilizing it. It describes the understanding a lab rat holds for buttons, the dog for the technician who feeds them, the raccoon for the chaotic landscape of the city, and the hamster for his dingy cage door. This to me illustrates the likely evolution of consciousness from before the first evidence of visual organs in the Cambrian period to the immense network of overlapping patterns we find ourselves enmeshed in today. The process which allows us to spit out the term "conscious” in order to orchestrate a metaphor to explain to ourselves this disorienting experience of watching yourself describe watching yourself describe watching yourself. And yet, in every philosophical and scientific text ever detailing the matter, we still understand this concept only relative to our experience with it, in the same way the stupid animal understands how a door handle works.
I'm so tired of the "internet brain rot" overstimulation slopworld. everyone wants to think that they have some kind of neurological issue just to avoid the fact that they've ruined themselves with overstimulation. It is one of the most pervasive ailments of our time period, from the oldest to the youngest, the highest genetic quality to the lowest, all participate in this weaponized content. It’s rampant contagion is rivaled only by global capitalism and the black death. I revile that my husband, mother, (boyfriends) friends, and family have all succumbed to this addiction. It’s merely the radicalization of the success tv experienced, and the generation before mine adapts to it so readily considering they grew up watching their parents spend a great deal of time before the television. What exactly is so unbearable about boredom that the entire world runs from it as if scrambling to board a piece of floating wood while stranded at sea? If I have one mission as a parent, it is to quarantine my children from this viral influenza, it is a freedom I feel that they have a birthright to inherit.
"Good job killing that monster mageling", he said. A tightly entangling network of fissures fractured each atomic bond in his body, and before my eyes, in an instant, the creature had been dismantled as his body fell, like a raindrop hitting water. "Revel in the orgasmic sound of shattering ceramic."
The angle of the sun's rays sheared leaf from limb, littering fatalities to feed the forest floor. The genocide of bacterial colonies and the clear mind of the hands rinsed clean. I've paid my penance molding fat and ash from forest fires.
I dream of the rich soil toiled for more soil fodder; heaping lurching morphing fertile soil, a million year reign of the grains and droplets dyarchy morphing the surface of earth. millions of sucking mires, spewing and mixing and swallowing, pullulating, pouring forth where the walls met my wide-eyed gaze, ankle deep, caressing under gaping earth I brushed fellow flesh consigned to digestion, and my weight sunk further within the folds of a small intestine as I grew weaker with each step.
My success is overwhelming, Master. I am euphoric.
Accumulate everything a body needs for survival and yet you remain unfulfilled. A cog in the machine of modern civilization is depraved direly not of material wealth, but of metaphysical wealth. Ironic is the price of decadence, it is humanity's greatest addiction, which we strive again and again to indulge in, despite the fates of those who tasted it before us, we can't muster the self awareness or control to escape its self perpetuating nature. Every instance of demoralization dealt at the hand of decadence stimulates the desire to indulge ourselves more, to distract more, progress more, for we can certainly solve anything if we have created phones and cars! But not one of these addicts stops to consider that we have never invented anything which bears not within itself an equal consequence to its convenience. Mental emaciation is a world hunger affecting all "privileged" countries. We are all oblivious to it, because subconsciously we rationalize the side effects, and everyone else is doing it anyway, and men richer and smarter than us never issued any warning about it. Infinite entertainment at the cost of infinite boredom. Movement without purpose. "Shape without form, shade without color, paralyzed force, gesture without motion;" The most pious armageddon we can humbly pray for is a quiet end to the eternal humiliation of progress once the furthering of technology is exhausted, which is a fate as fictitious as heaven, and too a final rest achieved only after death, as we are truly fulfilled only in so much as we are not progressing.
Mentor got me to flirt with the demonic today. Entanglement with an insectoid soul, im natures mechanically toiling droid impregnating flowers with lukewarm ligaments. I thought it would be more of a "high" but It's a rather tame experience. I feel like a concentrated version of myself. I want to take myself by the hand and lead her to a pragmatic realm where occam's razor will shave the malignant tumors of catatonic indecision away. Lighter and lighter I grow as the chatter of conversation between nail, key, and me envelops my mind.
Some conclusions about the fate of this page came to me in the form of disappointment. I was really enthusiastic about the opportunity to build a website for my father, and pervertedly delighted at the opportunity for one of my parents to bear witness to the morbid fruits of my labor. But alas, he seemed to, at most, just be annoyed with my offers. I have no idea what the ideal version of myself would have been in my parents eyes, but histrionic right-wing social recluse probably wasn't in the cards.
I don't know either how common the feeling of being a disappointment is, I suppose if anyone deserved to feel it, it would be me. Everytime I think back to my happy childhood roaming forests and splashing in streams, of hiking with my dad and hanging on my mom like a monkey, I feel that natural gratitude for the love I was given. But as soon as I am enamored with the happy visions of this story I supposedly lived, I am too thrown into the mirror house and tumble into the many monstrous reflections of past horrors, the many crooked visions of my faulty life taunting me. I was never once good or normal from the start to the current. And who is to blame for this? Is it me? Or am I it?
I need to give up on receiving validation for this thing and continue to shape it through desperation and love. If my parents ask, this website is classified. Remember when charlotte from milady asked me what I had been writing? That tense feeling in my chest, the utter absence of content in my soul to share, theres still nothing there of value to consume. I am a product only for myself. And master… he says that this is a productive hobby >W< I tricked him into thinking that me dairying is anything than the fecal matter of my mind :P
I work day and night to craft chairs that are unusable by human means. And its tiring too.
Sammlerin — Yesterday at 22:19
I took the blue pill earlier in the day, which I found to greatly impact my physical performance given this is my most taxing of my two leg days. Then I’m deadlifting and some guy laughs as he walks past me… this demolished me mentally given I had a suspicion that my form was bad, I ask the mentor to take a look and after rebutting the “you are a paranoid schizophrenic” claims, he proceeded to confirm that I indeed looked as retarded as I had feared. So I wanted to move to the rack that Mentor was using as he was done and I needed to use the mirror to check my form. As I’m unloading the bar pondering the previous events, a crash erupts and I hear mentor yell. A man limps away from the other side of the rack, wincing. I suddenly realize what has occoured and immediately go to make sure that he is unscathed.
I wish I was a religious woman so that I had the privilege of asking god for forgiveness, or repenting for my sins, contextualizing any of it really. But instead, it could only be said that accidents occur, and that women are prone to committing them. Lucky he was fine, but the incident was deeply shocking and embarrassing.
The adrenaline made me sick. I could only think of how it would have felt to have heard a chorus of screams, look over expecting it to be something else and discover the pooling blood and million twisted faces blocking out the outside world as they circled the scene. A cacophony of yelling and shrieking and blood and wide eyes and all I would be able to do would be cry and close my eyes and beg for forgivness
For the first time in my life, I'm being careful about my tolerance. I poped one 11th and I'll pop the next one the 15th. There is something infinitely warm and comfy about indulging in a recreational substance habit >_<~~~ its like going on weekly playdates with myself. The psychonaut app says that my tolerance should have lowered to at least roughly half by then.
I hate being around normal people but I've grown so well adjusted that being around mentally ill "people '' makes me feel disgusted, maybe I'm just better than everyone, as always, sincerely yours, the humblest midwit, and worst at having an inferiority complex.
UPDATE: starting to go back with spell check for the dyslexia
1/13/24 apes. zooworld.
I want to learn about the human race from a second hand perspective but the closest I’ll ever get to experiencing that is the unnerving intrusive horror of observing the primate in everyone. During daily reveries I flit my eyes to and fro, as if I were a glassy eyed bonobo, attempting to analyze the structure of my mate’s face as it is, not as I see it. I endure the desire to occupy the extraterrestrially dissociated lens of a “universal geographic”. A nature show made 10000 years from now designed to enlighten future-goers on just how barbaric and un-evolved we are. This rumination is the hum of future radio frequency throughout my subconscious, the faint reverberation of that narrative drone illuminating the bestial barbarity of half man half ape.
Streaming soon to microchips in you…
I don’t know how something so removed from my existence as "the future" can ignight such terror within me to envisage. On all fronts we are unfortified to the assault of time. There is no place to hide where the future won’t find you one second at a time. Whittling away until your gift subscription to flesh and light expires and you are once more consigned to the complete lack of sensation from whence you came.
I have always felt like an imposter in interests, as I could never summon the kind of passion and dedication I respected in others even if I devoted my life to pursuing them. (thinking about it now, I hate these people becasue I will never have what they have always had) I didn’t care much about anything but the internet (like everyone else) and my attention span had become so fried from it that I had no choice but to indulge in my addiction. I still hate working on anything useful, but I at least now recognize it as one of the steps I'll have to take to continue in my trek towards adulthood. Hobbies were considered absurd untill the 18th century, so my life is like loser royalty. And even though I feel guilty for being such a burden, some part of me says that if you want to take that away from me, you'll have to pry the crown from my cold dead hands... infantalized sped temper tantrum
Placed bricks today and the 13th for an accumulated 5 or so hours. I wonder what manual labor does psychologically..? Today I feel as if I’m a train puffing away each hour of the day. One pungent coal cloud of a thought at a time floats up into the air and away. My only mission is momentum, the only direction is forward, the only action is digestion, consuming earth’s energy in order to propel my waste spew further. Imbibing the air behind me with the hot smog pouring from the smokestack atop my head. Sub-human and deer are propelled into the bramble by the indelible inertia which is foisted upon the mechanisms that compose me. All organs whipped like a bitch into submission by TIME, the master manipulator. Always watching carefully over my shoulder, the bureaucratic system taking its due tax on my rented system by the hour. As soon as I wake up i’m clocked into another shift at the sophactory, and i don't know what job i’ll get if I quit… housecat or indian man…so I’ll toil here for a few more decades.
The only diary like mine that I’ve bothered to read is marl barl’s. But I’m not nearly as interesting as her. When I’m 40, i'll have completely forgotten about the first half of my life, and delete this website permanently. I assume that reading it would be like hearing your teenager say “I didn't ask to be born”. Drivel from a stupid nihilistic child with minimal life experience and even less of the capacity to interpret it. If I find writing about myself so wildly entertaining then am I larping self-hatred?
On the 15th I get to take the second dose of the speed potion. I wish I could take a break from this website but everytime I think about getting an education somewhere on earth a kitten dies.
"Contents Back to Table of ANDEREN Preface to the 64 Basic Types What this page is a part of Basic ir u Ond (IuFcUu) Interpretative Notes to the 64 Basic Types. Read these before reading any of the types! This is the most primitive of the IRU patterns and an tends to be relatively rare. In general, the iru has made little adaptation or modification of his primitive tendencies; he is a non involving schizoid person with limited emotional control and little awareness of any need to develop social-interpersonal competence. At best, he is a self-centered, highly autistic person who is individualistic and self-seeking; at worst, he is the classic childhood schizophrenic who never develops beyond his autistic personalized world. Like the iru, [IuFcAc] discussed below, this is a narcissistic adjustment, but it lacks the negativism and social-interpersonal defensiveness of the iru adjustment. Instead, the iru is much more socially passive and insulated. The ira* [IuFcUc] has learned some form of social adaptation in his development that maintains him fairly effectively, but the iru remains socially and interpersonally insulated from the beginning without developing superficial maturity. He is completely succor dependent and needs constant care and attention, not because he demands it in an overt way, but because he is essentially helpless without it. Obviously, it is very difficult for the iru to achieve any sort of productive, adult adjustment. The extreme iru is very difficult, if not impossible, to test, so part of the rarity of this pattern stems from this. Some iru records will occur in individuals with organic conditions, but usually the pattern is a result of the impairment and masks the pre-organic personality pattern. The ir*u is often a management problem because he is abusive, overactive, and assaultive. There are definite childish temper tantrums that are unrelated to external events."
I want to watch boogiepop phantom. Last night I realized that I can tick off half the traits that constitute the "psycopath" diognosis. Except instead if being cunning and manipulative i'm just a histerionic paranoid worm.
Touching yourself absentmindedly in the midst of action and uncovering the growth of a boil on your persons.
Re-moulding ovulation waste of a chicken waste products into muscles , fat, brain matter . chickens folding bug shells into thick fat yolks. get fat filled with other creatures a million times repurposed since the last common ancestor. repurpose rebuild recycle!12:00: I'm plugged into the stimulation hyperreality portal today..
I took double what I took the first day an hour after the first 10mg ingestion, I am going to work on setting up school stuff and set apart a bit of time to write when I feel like it. Of course I wish I had just tolorated hs like every other rat. I like being wired becasue there are sooo many things I want to do and so little time. I want to write, clean, draw, study, I want to do something great. But no time...
1:52: succsess! I got myself to commit some to the ged thing, getting used to it is the hardest part. I dont think that it will become a substance issue, because I almost didn't want to take it today because I wanted to start boogiepop instead...