The obvious way to understand a situation you can’t, in your right mind, evaluate in such a moment as knee-jerk-off is as rudimentary as they come, my dear boy.
Long time fans of this channel will remember an article a couple back; it’s hard to believe they found me on meds again, but I really don’t care anymore. (I used up my last bit of good gliding vibes, so that I could be myself a little of a year.) (Thankfully, my speech is back being slow, and thoughts are harder to formulate logics again. /s)
You really have to recognize how much physical agony I’d been in, knowing the feeling of my back falling apart, and be faced with persons so rash, no amount of eloquence could justify—its clockwork: grand and desirable to the homeless, but no! That isn’t for me.
As I sit here waiting for an appointment that’ll (likely) go nowhere. I’m about ready to give up the seeking, and just go eat a rock.
Remember when I said this? ‘… [H]ave to recognize how much physical agony I’d been in’. Yes, unheard w/ video proof. And still, managed to fixate on any thing he could to—what’s that term? ‘<something> bias’?
Oh, don’t be naive! I’d may as well be consumed by fatalism. Would I recognize myself if I just choose to stop being me? Because dying alone is a rice cookie, afterall—BUT I’M SITTING HERE WITH A 20% MENDED VOICE, thinking ‘You don’t even realize who I am!’
I lost my voice, you sons-of-bitches!
Fucking give me sanity long enough to have contributed something other than this theatrical fantasy where no one plays the lead.
I expect greatness from those ‘treating’ me now. And they’ll never come any closer to understanding how the voice works, either. Now, isn’t that special?!
Let’s leave it up to future-me to partake in the looting in the far away and after! ————————
Music got me hearing; lost silk after the hike, too.
Now that I’m sleeping so much again, I can theorize new ways to modify sleep into what it needs to be: congratulations!
Congratulations!
Also, as a side-note, my neck hurts soooooooo much if I turn it just ever so slightly in either direction: left and right; forward and back are someway less predictable.
Music got me here! But boy, it takes a tall order of pain to touch certain phrases.
… is being made to communicate the state of my consciousness (the others were abandoned). Plainly, it appears I have DID (Disassociative Identity Disorder). (Expect this article to meander a bit.)
I’ve arrived at a point where I have realized it doesn’t really matter to me whether my life’s work is adopted en masse. I recently heard about how Carl Jung ordered that his one book, there, be published 50 years (or something) after his passing, so that people took his work seriously.
Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely and totally understand why he asked for that.
Simply, it occurred to me yesterday that the learned I am trying to influence may, in fact, be so glued to their wishy-washy understandings and, thus, ‘We are above reproach!’ that no amount of evidence will convince them of anything. It’s the nature of the beast. Really, it’s the nature of the beast.
Do be aware: I had been aware of the idea of a stubbornness to change that flies in the face of evidence long before the trans ideology coupled itself with the cost-sunk fallacy. Give me empathy points for that one; but topically, it’s one of the analogies. I can think of others.
Have I beat around the bush enough?
I know that it’s DID because of circumstantial evidence (of course): Firstly, during one particular psychosis, I’d arrived at a desire not for the whispers to stop, but that they move elsewhere – which they did; secondly, it was when I’d realized the whispers could be unaware that it were its own personality, the psychosis phenomenon (and all the identifiers signalling its resurgency) ceased.
I’ll leave it up to good-faith psychiatrists and psychologists to piece together this puzzle. ‘Seasoned’ health professionals may not all be a lost and debilitating spirit in the machine, but these people deal with the sick. Something I, too, had been a number of times. With that comes so much room for trauma. (I know of one such psychiatrist who shouldn’t be practicing anymore. She’d long ago become jaded, impairing her judgement; I could see it in her eyes and body language the moment she put me in the box labeled ‘so far gone’. And I knew there was no way to rectify the impression I’d made. Despite being fully aware lapses in memory are normal, after that one appointment, it became very clear very soon a loaded die had been rolled.)
I’ve heard a lot about mental illness cases – and I am aware that the ratio of success cases versus the doomed disproportionately leans in one direction. So, I have no idea how the system can be improved – other than the FDA stopping being captured by the pharmaceutical industry. (After listening to DarkHorse Podcast, the idea that the progress of psychiatric medications haven’t been confused, corrupted, and crippled is so far away in the rear-view mirror that I wonder how I’m not a fucking vegetable right now. Honestly, you take five random reviews on drugs.com for the drug they had me on and amalgamate: that was me – and somehow, I didn’t have it that bad – if that makes any sense at all…)
‘When people are introduced to issues concerning people, things become complex.’ For what it’s worth, I’ve gotten in the habit of saying this.
When people are introduced to issues concerning people, things become complex.
What do I mean by ‘they moved elsewhere’? It’s very easy to answer that question: I merely preferred that rather than hearing ‘voices’ where they’d sprung up in my psyche, they take a more active role through the mimicking of speech. Imagine going to talk without actually talking or moving the lips or anything like that.
Now, considering the whispers receded in their activity once the change had occurred, what does that mean?
I’ve been off whispers and off medication for over one year now. And no psychosis in sight. Before, I was going through psychosis every year since 2015. Then, in 2022, I realized DID was a possibility, and logically, after much contemplation and experience, figured whispers could be a personality that doesn’t know it is one. Add to the mix it obviously doesn’t know anything you don’t: voila! You get peace of mind, and whispers stop having any integrity. (Definitely fully aware mentioning ‘whispers’ there is ammunition for bad-faith actors, but whatever… I haven’t gone through the trouble of trying to coin a word for the way it works for me.)
And it has been a great boon to my mental health knowing that I may be on to something.
Here’s the bad news:
I’m probably going to be dying pretty soon, here. Probably from exhaustion.
You know, I care not for those who’ve made a caricature of me in their heads and discard what I’d done. Incidentally, real people may be aware: The people who’ll shout ‘Get help!’ aren’t even trying and, really, haven’t figured out the difference between real values and an inclination to hysteria. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the ‘easy’ thoughts you see on social media don’t belong to the demographic I am trying to reach. All you knee-jerkers are free to be unthinking, bought, and ignorant for the rest of your lives. That’s what the MSM, the government, and the ‘advertisers’ who they’re beholden to ask of you. Have at ‘er, bud!
No; there may be a pocket of psychiatrists, doctors, musicians, and nerds—level-headed people, the learned, and wanting-to-learn alike—who may come across these writings of mine.
Yea; I’m probably going to be dying pretty soon, here.
Today was the first day I woke up, went to go sit in the black chair, and was almost immediately hit by this muscular exhaustion I’ve become accustomed to in my neck. There’s a general warm, tired soreness more regularly moving into my back at large, as well.
It’s a terrifying world where a person won’t be taken seriously because of their history with ‘mental illness’.
But I understand that there are people out there with real somatic delusions (technically, I may or may not have had them in a previous psychosis, though no matter how many times I’d asked, I didn’t get a straight answer), and your average doctor figures you don’t know shit about nothing to start with. Sorry to all the average doctors out there that don’t feel this way!
My uncle figures the right time to be is when you’re alive.
Bret Weinstein has talked about how tissue can only suffer so much trauma before it can no longer heal. I don’t know whether the cold and fine sore stinging my shoulder-to-neck muscles exhibit is a result of this, or is the result of falling asleep before they’re finished doing their thing – and thus, cannot completely heal overnight.
All I know is it’s getting worse, and it’s obviously happening earlier. Supplementing with protein appears to not help.
Sincerely, this affliction was crossing into torturous only just so long ago, and now it’s, I fear, going to be only torturous from here on out.
I have wondered of the distinction between suffering and torture.
For those who’ve only seen this article: By the way, this injury that’s brought me here would not have brought me here if it were not for some very outstanding circumstances! For this reason, I wholly understand why aid cannot be attained.
I do fear a future where I cannot lay in a moderately comfy bed only when I’m tired and cannot hop on the computer or sit with my phone when I’m not tired; that’s a kind of cruel and unusual. And I can’t even imagine the cruel and unusual of being forced medications again when I’m alive, here, right now.
I’d heard a lot of talk of Cain and Able through the grapevine. One does wonder about the meaning of sacrifice.
On one hand, I know humanity is finite; on the other, I want to stand with those who have it in them to nurture the present.
I have no choice but to assert part of its profundity is consequence of the content it’s become, but even so, when considering how Japanese often omits pronouns, you come to realize these three words aren’t all that you’re looking at. Even when taken at face value, how much can be gleaned from their togetherness.
I have no choice in the matter! This is a beautiful series of words!
Especially when life’s theme is a series of conversations to which we only can fill in the blanks, an interpretation carries the weight of folly. For this reason, I’d a vanishing interest in that of words in music (check chronology). Yet, like any self-respecting rule of thumb, I find exceptions between the cracks.
With that out of the way, a meandering is on the way (feel free to agree this should have been put into a separate work):
I’d like to be able to keep a lid on fascination. When I think about adoration, I realize it’s intrapersonal – and that keeps it measured, I’m sure. I have my idols who’ve all passed now. But I don’t think the point of fandom, broadly speaking, is to change them. If celestial bodies do indeed align, connecting an artist to his fan, surely, the point is to appreciate you’re both aiming for the same thing.
I do say ‘idol’, but honestly, I don’t really know what that means. That said, I do think I did have it right during their lifetimes. I wanted to meet them; that’s probably an idol, yea?
① I have never inflicted a pain on the living that hasn’t paid back in full (and more) in care. ② I have never made the mistake of discarding the usable. ③ I am fully aware and capable of repelling my desire to impose my values on those dearest to me. ④ There was never a better time to repurpose our living quarters for the safekeeping of those dearest to me. ⑤ My friends don’t concern themselves with the things they cannot do, so why should I? ⑥ When in doubt, turn to our shared interests for positive reinforcement. ⑦ I know utility can mean many things, and it’s reasonable to want to find utility in meaning. ⑧ The world opened up to make room for me, and thus, therein, a burden of responsibility can fall to no one else. ⑨ I know the fruit of my labour will inspire the us of tomorrow. ⑩ No one can conceive of the power I wield.
Sometimes the gods of the algorithm see to it that you’re swiftly punished for listening to music on YouTube. Is it justified to be so exacted upon? I wonder. Do these gods deliver their hand to my face in ambivalence, benevolence, or malevolence? Ask yourself—deeply ask yourself, ‘What exactly is the Internet experience here for?’
I present to you, here, the seed of Satan:
Mixes. Back-to-back mixes. And in case it wasn’t clear, these are the evil in your heart! They are the root of EVIL and SUFFERING in this world we call home!
Let us explore the constituents of
—EVIL ・・・
Firstly, ‘evil’ is an acronym for ‘everything vile in the land’! Clearly, the caveman who thought up fire was onto something! Let me explain exactly what he thought so that you, too, can comprehend:
① ‘It is hot!’ ② ‘It destroys!’ ③ ‘In its absence, everything is good and pleasant!’
True, we shouldn’t be blaming cavemen for thinking about fire, but that doesn’t mean casually glossing over the details will benefit us! As the evidence looms, and as the weight of our decisions pale in comparison to the meaning of the sheer number of non-believers, only a hyper-intelligent force like electricity can save us!
Case in point, electricity is emphasizing the importance of mixes to me! This means our fate is being disturbed! It is utilizing the one intermediary that I know it would know I would know would never betray the fabric of being: cyber-foreshadowingI
Cyber-foreshadowing can be summarized in three sets of 15 points; however, for your convenience, I have truncated and simplified the nuances within:
• Algorithms predict the future.
To recap, hot is like hell, evil is on land, etc., etc. Furthermore, with the appearance of unforgiving, back-to-back mixes, a call to every decent human being has been sounded: elucidate YouTube to the urgency of extending customization of the tags for the home feed page.
LET THERE BE NO MIXES WHERE MIXES ARE UNWANTED!!!!!!!!
In the pursuit of the magnum opus in every discipline (because ruling over the domains of life and death sometimes need to take a back seat), I’ll share with you one of many great strides I’d made while polishing the gold that is my imagination:
Upon reflection, and though the truth may yet be quite out of reach, it is possible the polishing agent I’m using is not top-of-the-line. Truly, it is hard to accommodate this deviation in my mindscape so farseeing. That being said, I am familiar with so-called established consensus and the weight of opposing their pervasive sensibilities. For this reason, I, with great trepidation, open myself to receiving advice about products that don’t both wane with the flavour of diminishing returns and conceal the participation of forever chemicals in their makeup.
I am not playing Trials Rising in this video; I am not Shishiro Botan; audio found in this video is attributed to a performance titled 【Trials Rising】クセがすごいんじゃ【獅白ぼたん/ホロライブ】.
I think 獅白ぼたん’s approach to entertainment is likeable. I appreciate a select few other Hololive talents, too, but somehow this is where the puzzle pieces fall. Actually, it has been a long time since I last watched Botan – or any other vtuber, for that matter. It was only a few days ago that I remembered how much fun it was watching Botan play Trials Rising years ago. This was when the idea of putting together an off video became appealing.
Please erupt with tuffs of black smoke when on the grind!
Have you heard of ‘Ore ga Suki nano wa Imouto dakedo Imouto ja Nai’? The English title is ‘My Sister, My Writer’. I’m not particularly sure why it’s rated 43% on Anilist, 4.90 (out of 10, I’m assuming) on MAL, and 4.37 on aniDB, but at the very least, I enjoyed it. And now that I’m older and more mature (or is it because I’d seen so much anime?), the fun of the show shines through – almost blindingly so!
And so, I’m on my second viewing, and it’s reassuring these eyes that had thought so fondly of this story before hadn’t succumbed to an exaggerated fondness all this time. It makes me wonder what goes into bringing the absurd to life. That, in of itself, is an art I’ve flirted with:
• The MC is your average, normal guy. • He has to save the world when he’s reincarnated in another world. • At the end of the story, after he’d saved the world, it is revealed that every single person he’d encountered in the world is a family member who’d reincarnated after dying in his lifetime on Earth.
Or:
• The year is 1995; the future is here. • A startup company grows into the most beastly industry, taking the world by storm through the sale of original products that serve no purpose nor have any aesthetic value.
Or my grand opus:
• The money stops working.
That final idea has an amount of pen to paper behind it, but… well… anyways…
Here lies the crux of this article: It appears I’ve burnt myself out of anime again. I just don’t feel like watching anything, and we’re coming into Summer, of all the things!
I promise you: I have tried to stay not burnt out too! Like I went and tried starting Arte and Strongest Exorcist again, yet each of these viewings made it only to episode two! See? I’m burnt out! I can’t help it! Over the course of the past week or so, there’d been a sprinkling of other titles like Goburin Sureiya-san (2nd viewing; episode seven—GET THIS MAN A POTION PRONTO!), My Sister, My Writer (2nd viewing; episode three) among others, too.
And so, I am here writing this while listening to POP | CULTURE 2, though it should be noted, this is the third day of putting it together. I’ve, more or less, just been coasting along for this past week, listening to music and wishing for more chances to participate in conversations on Discord. Heck! I even tried starting Edgerunners the other day! Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the kind of anime I’m interested in. And so, I am here trying to figure out how to make this article the least bit interesting…
It is pretty dumb that I want to engage with the user base of this Discord though, honestly. It’s frustrating to want to share the joy I get from anime (and, to a certain extent, manga) with people who have all been swept up by Internet chatroom culture. Like ‘fire and forget’ is a phrase that’d never been more applicable to communications, when it, in fact, is meant to describe a mechanism in games. It’s simple, really: Accept no one gives a fuck about your contributions to conversations, that they don’t share the same principles as you, that there are genuine otaku amongst the bunch, but mostly all have dissimilar tastes to you, and that heavily sprinkled amidst the ‘community’ are snowflakes and retards.
I do want to organize a good community of otaku on—POP | CULTURE 6 is now playing—somewhere. Discord is a waste of time because their ToS/community guidelines are all about inclusivity and compelled speech and, in general, encourages being a retard.
It’s only when I’d sorted through my frustrations that I always come back to the same conclusion: Why don’t I just be happy with the friends I have? The obvious answer is, ‘There is a part of me that still desires something of a wider sampling’. Maybe that… or something. Who knows? I guess they really meant it when they said humans are social creatures. Yet, in the same breath, it appears I’ve gained enough experience (of mainly the disappointment variety) to realize it’s so easy to bark up the wrong tree.
I guess we’re going to see if we can be a bit more honest on Twitter. I must say, it sure is difficult to make progress in this technological world while simultaneously minimizing the broadcasting of my stupidity. It’s like the pipeline of a futuristic online–physical hybrid lifestyle relentlessly tricks you into thinking you’ve reached the end line. It is at the top of the sins: stupidity. I am forgoing the use of cardinal because I don’t actually know what it means.
Anime’s Greatest Hits, pt. V: How to Love Your Antacid
These 3x3s represent me at a time when I, too, was clouded by an unforgiving attachment to false ideals. It is no excuse, but I throw myself at your feet, so that you may reconsider it was I who, despite my honourable intentions, had not a sober thought in my mind! Here, I present to you the new, inspired, and enlightened me:
Personally, it’s hard to believe there is a brief moment in my recent history (07-06-22) stained with such incredulity! Surely, the depths of one’s error can be only so demoralizing! Well, I have seen the light! I am reformed!
R.I.P., Kohaku and S01 of Misfit; you’ll forever be remembered as favourites in a time not so different from days passed.
Anime’s Greatest Hi—
I may be merrily speaking to myself, but wouldn’t it be amazing if 1 x ½ got animated? Additionally, let’s all put our hearts together and let out a resounding hurrah for Slime 300 2, Isekai Ken 2, Arifureta 3, DanMachi 5, 100 Girlfriends 2, Chained Soldier 2, another Quintuplets season (3, I think), and, of course, Maou-sama, Retry! R (because Tron will alone—single-handedly—save the world from despair and corruption before the slime spirit sisters get a chance! Why will this not be up to Fran, you ask? Because Fran is too fucking busy fucking saving the world from pain and destruction!) Looking into the future, there obviously are other anime to get excited about, but I kind of feel like wrapping this up… Oh! That sister harem story—*researches*—’Shiunji-ke no Kodomotachi’! Really, no idea how that one will turn out, but we’ll see; I know it’s the Rent-A-Girlfriend author’s project. Oh!!!!!!!! I just seen it now! Second season of Dress-Up Darling is TBA, too!
Maybe my next piece will have to do with anime we are in dire need of. For now, I’m going to have to tie this one into a neat little bow!
