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.

it sucks i have to do this in an incognito window

 but otherwise i can't log in to blogger.

and i'm about to do a new story, so.

huh

 so

it turns out that "maybe i should drain out some blood from my arms, and see if that helps" 

is called "suicidal ideation."

i wish i had friends.  or loved ones.  or could love a one, if it came down to it.

i wake up just wanting hugs, and then curl up to have nightmares of being murdered by grabby zombies.

i hate this.  i just want what i see other people having.  someone to share a life with.  someone who doesn't turn into grabby zombies.

i didn't eat enough today and i disappoint everyone.

 :(

i hate everything.

i fucking hate everything

most of the time, i can just ignore the fact that i'm going to die alone.  it's not really a big deal most of the time.

but then sometimes i remember that, and wonder how everyone else found people and got married and all that shit.

so i looked up some 'how do you date when you're an adult', and one of the suggestions some asshole came up with was 'i asked 20 of my friends to set me up with a friend.'

who the fuck has 20 friends that they can ask that kind of thing?  is that a thing people do?  people have enough friends that they can choose "only 20" of them for something like this?




i probably need to go back to therapy or try new drugs or something, b/c i'm probably more suicidal than i'm willing to admit.

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?

if you're waiting for the next comp-pet chapter:

sorry

a lot sorry.

i'm trying to get it done, but it's fighting me, and my brain is fighting me, and i have my Real Life shit to deal with as well.

i am going to try super hard to get chapter 2 out this week.  if i don't, please don't hate me.

but i plotted out the goals, and i am way less than halfway, and i know i'm going to miss at least two months from work, so i need to hurry.

sorry.

a lot sorry.

opinions?

if i put in Japanese, should i just do a translation, should i do a romanji "sayonara" style thing, or is it ok if i put in the regular hiragana (b/c i never learned my kanji): "いいえ"?

this wasn't a problem until i got drunk tonight and worried about it.

ARUGHDF

i went to get dinner, because i was going to be late getting home from work, so i think, 'hey, fucking mcdonalds isn't terrible"

except when instead of giving you the burger you ordered, you get a tiny fucking burger with soggy lettuce and tomato on it.  who the fuck wants fucking shitty ass iceberg lettuce on a crap-ass mcdonalds burger?

"do you want someone to contact you?"  why?  i'm already home with my wrong-ass burger?  i'm going to haul my ass back to the store to have the fuckbag who couldn't put the right fucking burger into the right fucking bag?  i'm going to put my pants back on for that? fuck you.

and now i'm trying to decide if the grumbly tummy is because i'm still hungry, or because i ate the bottom half of the burger with all that shit scraped off super fast and super angry.

fuck.  i was going to eat and watch a show, but by the time the show finished with commercials, i'm already done and furious.  thanks for ruining my whole fucking day.

i'd wish that the guy would be fired, but i think he's a manager or something.  i mean, a fucking manager, and "regular menu item" and "asinine piece of shit monstrosity" were too many things to keep straight?

plus the asshole always undersalts the fries.  hello?  if i wanted my heart not to explode, i wouldn't fucking be here, would i?

wendy never fucks up my order.  wendy fucking loves me.


anyway, maybe bdsmlibrary isn't dead forever?  i might start sending in stories there if they actually post something new.

grump

work was a butt

my dinner order was fucked up

and i chipped a nail, and it fucking hurts

fuck everything

ha ha

so

things are going pretty well.  my new job is better than the old one, my new boss is super cool, my coworkers are cool too, my new apartment is way bigger and way nicer than my old one, things are generally all better.

it's colder.  i don't like the cold so much.

but i'm starting to realize that i'm still super lonely, and starting to think that that's how it'll be forever.  i don't know that there's an easy way to meet people who are into messed up stuff, and i don't know that i could meet someone who isn't.

so i'm kind of in this place that i feel like i should be more depressed than i am.  i suspect the issue is that i'm taking so many drugs now, my brain can't be depressed.  i don't know.

i'm rambling, but it's late, and i need to get up early tomorrow.

i definitely don't like getting up early.

i should just design all clothes

did you know about thumbholes?

i've owned like two hoodies.  ever.  until moving, and now i have like five.

but only a few have thumbholes.  they're like gloves, but where i just tuck in the fingers when they get cold.  and i can be sure my hoodie is wrapped around like a hug on me.

so, if i could design all the clothes:

thumbholes for all long sleeves.

pockets on fucking everything.

i probably should say "and it's all cotton," but to be fair, over the past few years, i've converted to spandex and polyester.  yes, i know i'm wrapped up in plastic like a tray of hamburger, but i like that squeeze, and i like the smoothness.

"what even is this, sammy?"

this is what you get when i drink once a week instead of constantly.

i get a lot of crazy dreams that disturb me.





i have a few story thoughts.  it's weird when your brain is clear to come up with what i did in the past.

can people comment?  if you get a "comment rejected" or "comments not allowed" message, send me an email, and i'll try to sort it out.  i have a vague idea someone did that before, but i can't find it.

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.

Rachael notes

sorry i spoiled a story that's pretty old.

ugh

i wonder if other people just get random thoughts like this.

"hey.  it's been a while.  maybe cutting your arm a lot hurts less now?  i bet it'd be fun to lick that blood up before it stains the sheets.  it's like a party!"

pretty much out of nowhere.

thanks, brain.  thanks for being sucky about everything.

thanks for fucking up everything, all the time, every day.  Good fucking job.

but touch my tears, with your lips

touch my world, with your fingertips,


...


forever is our today.

who wants to live forever?

Ad infinitum

oh, well, i just fucked up my soundtrack.

so, next time, click the "new post" link in a new tab, i guess.

or don't post so much music on the blog, dummy.  i mean, i guess some people are into hard angry metal, but since 90% of the time i don't listen to that, maybe don't tie on that.

but seriously, if i could kill the king of deceit, i'd do it in a moment.  fucking regicide all over this shit.

"sammy, is there a point today, or should i just expect this to disappear tomorrow?"

yes.  probably.  here are the highlights for this long weekend:

1. i have a long weekend.  you probably don't.  you probably didn't get to have to have a king either.  like, in the far off past.  when kings were kool, and not just a singularly embodied tyranny.
2. did i tell that one guy to go fuck himself?  i think so?  if you're that dude, posting all the comments about shit randomly, being all up in my junk, stop it.  just stop.  no.  bad dude.  be better.
3. i am bad at writing.  i'm going to try this weekend.  no promises.  it was much harder before tumblr.  you had to earn your porn, or something.  tumblr is just all "here's the porn for today.  dug deep in the porn mine, so we've got all these enemas.  just enemas for days.  why?"  because everything eventually is commoditized, and porn has hit that tipping point.
4. "wait, so what does that mean for your porn writing?" eventually, you'll find a better porn that more closely aligns to your personal kinks.  in the limit of t->infinity, there will be infinitely many porn writers with the same set of kinks as you have, so you'll be fulfilled at zero cost, due to the glut of appropriate kink.

an update

still dealing with things in the way i pretend i think sane people do it.  i am taking out trash.  i am murdering bugs with cleaning fluids.  i am wondering if "termites" are something you can treat with regular poisons, since i can't seem to find poisons that do that.

i am wondering if i should just post summaries, and pretend i wrote a story i couldn't pull myself to write.

i have a lot of these outlined stories that i just can't motivate myself to make real.

sorry.

does anyone think that's good?  or sufficient?  i want to write the full story, but i never do.  for like a year, i never do.  if i never write something, what happens then?

so, hey, go look at the tumblr, go get the porn done, look at my sad wikipedia pages, and hopefully be sad in sympathy.

would anyone be happy if i just sketched how things would go, and then never wrote it?  would that ruin any actual stories that i can push out?

i don't know anymore, and my favorite authors seemed to have stopped, so maybe there's just a point where it doesn't click anymore.