so

not been going very well, has it?

just in case it wasn't 100% clear: if you hate trans people, you can fuck off.  i hate you, i will hate you forever, i hope you explode in a cloud of bees.

if you voted for this fascist idiot, you can also fuck off and explode in bees, etc, etc.

blah, blah, hands waving, you can figure out the rest of the details.

restarted another antidepressant, because the world has been pretty depressant lately.  also started to realize that i've apparently missed a lot of weird interactions just because i'm so incredibly aromantic that it just never occurred to me that someone was being creepy.

still have stories, but getting them out of the brain has always been hard, but it's increasingly hard as i get older.  depression is part of it, but i was depressed in high school, and that was one of my peak outputs.  no you cannot read those.

anyway now i can log in again like it was in the old days, so maybe i'll be more vocal.

good.

i'm thinking maybe i should try dating again

i'm not getting younger, and i can feel myself getting older.

did you know that joints actually are shitty?  it's true.

not super happy about the middle age acne either, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

any advice?  i guess tinder is the thing now?  can i just post a few pics and a "hey, i'm weird and crazy, but i'd like to not die alone" or is that weird and crazy?

and how do you be like "i'd like to have an intimate partner to share my life and triumphs with, but if you'd be ok with me just hiding under a blanket for a a few hours a day, that'd really be wonderful."

so yeah.  hedgehog's dilemma and all that.





i wish we just had government mandated triads to belong to.  stupid anti-collectivists forcing us into a socially divisive capitalist nightmare.

i did finally figure out how to solve the problem i had

i couldn't figure out how to get past a story blocker.  i knew what i wanted to have happen, i just couldn't figure out how to make it happen and seem normal.  conveniently, i also really wanted to put in a reference, but felt it might be out of place.

turns out (b) solves problem (a) perfectly.

so now i just have to write it down.

--

i had a dream last night.  i was a cop (yeah, right), and we were called out to investigate this old factory in the middle of a farm.  or at least surrounded by crops.  there were all sorts of weird things at the factory, but nothing was illegal, so we had to leave.  the "weird things" were like metal train rails embedded in the floor, and a bunch of steel chairs and posts and things that could only move along the rails.  the two weirdest things were a huge cage and an area where a bunch of chairs had been arranged around a stage, which also had a cage welded onto the floor (all of this stuff was on the rails).  when we were leaving, we saw some people in the distance, but couldn't ask them questions because nothing illegal was happening.

so we left, and the cops/we decided to circle around and look through the fields.  i then got there (because dream) from a bar, and so i was kind of drunk, we start searching the fields, and find a bunch of dead bodies hidden, and start to investigate when we're attacked.  i get one of the guns out of the cop car trunk, but it doesn't work against a big scary guy who comes down the road.  i pass out, and when i wake up, i find that i'm naked and handcuffed in my cop car, but one of the guys from the factory is driving it.  i'm taken back to the factory, and put into one of the cages, which is too heavy for me to move.

there's a bit about the weird 7-11 place inside the factory, and i make fun of the guys because the dream logic is breaking down, and they don't like that, but like, one whole wall just doesn't exist now, and that's not the right way to run your illegal prison camp, i mean, seriously, are you people even good at anything?

and then i woke up.

--

today somebody else favorited my pettification story on hf, and when i looked at their profile, i saw that they charge people to write stories at like $1/100 words.  that made me look at how long my stories are, and i'm apparently dumb for giving away free porn.

oh well.

haha! i'm garbage!

first up: wow.  good job, me, not pulling out edit notes when you told me you were going to do that!  great, that one person has been like, "uh, sammy, probably a mistake?"

so, hey:

all you

want to edit?  mostly it's "that's not a word, sammy" and "who is this 'captain jerkbutt' character?" and "jfc, is this supposed to have text, or am i just supposed to accept [this comment in square brackets] junk."  this is a serious request for people who can read and note obvious errors quickly.

i can do this too, but i take drugs now, and although they make it so i can re-read things, they also make it super frustrating to wait for a calm me to arrive and reread.

so, hey, anyone interested?

second: whoops, i guess i need to add porn to chapter 3, because my outline just fucked up and put in a bunch of socialist organizing.

this isn't an editable thing, just a warning that it's going to be way left-er than you might expect.

conform or fuck off.  i seriously don't give a fuck which you do.

third: this might end up being less sexy.  when i follow the intentions and drives out, they don't end up quite as sexy as i would like.

i mean, there's lots of predictive "whoa!  this is going to get super HHHOOOTTT!!!"

but, maybe not?

is that a problem?  if i bill myself as a pornographer, but instead deliver manifestos, does that detract from my pornography?

or do i just allow that people who can't accept egalitarian porn are really just assholes?

sanity is over rated

i should know.  i looked over the opposition, took my pills, and looked at what that brought me.

i'm not complaining about my sanity.  it's reassuring to not freak out about minor upsets.  it's good to not see a dead animal and need to take a day off to recuperate.  it's nice to go out in public and not feel so much like an absolute freak.

i mean, i still mumble things to myself, and count on my fingers in a way that can't be reassuring to other people.

but feeling like this.

with what i think is what people know as "normal" in my hands.

it's weird and difficult and challenging.

when you know no one else sees what you see, and know that what makes you panic might  not exist, it's easy to draw away and accept that you're in a fantasy realm.

but when you crash down to the real world, and have to deal with trash, and the leaves you tracked in on your shoes, and "laundry".

shit turns out to be real.



so, a check-in on things:

1. my favorite forum turns out to be moderated by racists, so i guess it's not my favorite anymore?
2. i feel like i should write more, but i've been getting home at like 8pm.  
1. not hating your work means you have less time for porn.
2. this feels like it should be a positive?
3. nice that the country understands useless insanity now.  would have even nicer 24 months ago, but i guess i have to live with the repercussions of anti-democratic fascist jurists being placed by corrupt fascists.
4. or, you know, walls and shakespeare and such. 
1. just a suggestion.

hey

so.

started antidepressants again.  this time they seem to be doing a way better job than previously.  it's nice not wanting to kill myself everyday.  it's like a whole new world that's probably what other people live all the time.

so that's nice.

i also applied and was accepted for a new job.  that means i'm going to be moving to the mainland.  which is kind of super stressful and all that, but i don't like my current job, and this is a big opportunity.

i don't think i'm going to be advertising the area code i'm moving to, so don't bother with that.  it's a big change by itself, and i'd prefer not to have to worry about random people stalking me because of my porn account.

that said, i might start writing again.  the antidepressants make masturbating a struggle, but they clear my brain of a lot of the unpleasantness.  i have one story outlined, and a second vaguely sorted, and a third idea that could be clearer, but is better than i've been in a year.

no promises.  the world still sucks, there are still fascists out there that hate me, and people could be kinder but aren't.  we'll see if i feel comfortable with this.

so, hey.  here's a 2017 update before the new year.  wasn't this a shitball of a year?

fucking hope next year is better.

here. my music. wake me up.

i hope that's the song i want it to be.

i hope it has the anxiety and shame and hatred i feel everyday.

i made a god out of blood. it was probably a mistake.  sorry everybody.  i am bad at decisions, and i think i fucked this up.

hey there. first up, i really want no one to panic about this. just, calm everything down, and don't get too worked up about it. let's all take a step back, ok?

i'm suicidal again.

whoa, whoa, whoa, read that title again.  i'm drunk. and i'm super slow about everything, so this isn't an imminent threat.

but honestly.  suicidal thoughts are back in full strength.

i've been kind of coasting on a wave of panic and anxiety that made me feel like if i killed myself, then i'm just pushing burdens onto other people.

but that's kind of been relieved.  i could totally kill myself today, and it'd probably annoy a bunch of people, but they wouldn't be super burdened.

so, wow.  this is fucked up.  "if i'm stressed beyond comprehension, i can push that into a balloon that represents my sanity, but if that stress depletes, the balloon deflates, and only death awaits."

"you should go to therapy, sammy.  this can be fixed".  thanks, my brain.  telling me the things that are true.  jerk.

so, hey,


think about things.  i write some more cool porn.  you like it.  but then, six decades later, we're dead, and just a disgrace to your descendants.  and then think a million years from then.  no one cares.  i'm not like some sort of porno-jesus.  i've been forgotten for a million years.


and then like a billion years from then, the sun is going to ignite everything into a burnt cinder anyway.


so why does anything matter?  if i killed myself, why is that some sort of tragedy, when after everything, we all end up as ash under an angry sun?

"but we could help people, sammy!"

yes.  we could.  but a major political party is suggesting that "mexicans should probably just die" and "or blacks.  pretty much anyone not white"  and "like, literally, anyone not white.  they can just get shot if you feel the desire."  also, "gay people are demons who need to be expelled."

we could help people.

if any cared.

understand the first sentence of this post now?  if not, try reading again.

i know i'm a baby, baby