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!
When I listen to Dr. Peterson speak to Bishop Barron, I get the inkling I am being sincere when I think ‘I think I put order at the highest’.
With my knowledge of VST, I had tried to place it in the equation of the formation of our universe. Like what else am I going to do with the understanding? I doubt it plays much of a role, if any at all.
I don’t quite understand the concept of entropy; something of so much creates something? I was sure I’d have it stick in my mind after listening to the Destiny episode, but well, that’s just the way she goes.
Order is the only way I can see life coming to exist. And death, surely, can be explained away by it being the side-effect of order losing energy.
It makes me consider how much energy is in the chaos of space. And what’s truly remarkable is, there is no way to record it, though our technology sure is able to take a stab at that!
So, if I were to share an appreciative message, ‘I sure am thankful for order.’
I do think it would be fantastic to be able to afford, for my gravestone, a gif of イエイヌ catching a discus midair. That gif is amazing! I wish I took the time to write down the artist and download it! ‘O RLY cats playing ping pong’ might have to take a backseat to that one gif, honestly.
It must not be the most modest thing to do inside the grounds of a graveyard, eh? But really, it must have been thought of somewhere already and done!
Am I subordinating child tenets properly: Power, sex, beauty, truth, progress, relationship, and etc. Honestly, it seems they all have their turn.
It’s that idea of sacrifice that really got the wheels turning in that episode, there.
I don’t believe I am being crushed under the weight of my sacrifices, but it definitely is hard to draw the line between recovery from crippling events and valuing sacrifices, because it’s me, here, still living as myself.
This may be the closest I ever get to an autobiography… It would be cool to get out of debt eventually; just two ½ more years, probably!
Current lineup of primary influences (so, you, too, can check them out if you so desire):
• Soup dish, which consists of green split peas, yellow split peas, long grain brown rice, barley, worcestershire sauce, minced tomato, chicken broth, and (sometimes) shredded cheese. If it tastes good, it’s made right! • Wheat(?) pasta dish, which consists of wheat(?) pasta, shredded cheese, and pesto. It’s good if it tastes good! • Sandwich meal, which consists of salmon mixed with avocado oil mayo, the closest I can get to real bread without making it myself, and honey dijon mustard. It’s right if it’s made right! • ’100% natural’ or ‘non-GMO’ rice dish, which consists of parboiled ‘100% natural’ ‘long grain rice’ or ‘non-GMO’ ‘long grain brown rice’, salmon mixed with avocado oil mayo, and shredded cheese. You’ll know it’s good when it tastes good!
And then, there is a bonus dish that I may be getting back to soon: noodle soup dish, which consists of Sapporo Ichiban noodles (Mr. Noodles is a no-go! Don’t cheap out, man!), turmeric, chili powder, and black pepper. Leave a lot of water, so you can season the dish in the bowl, and then, use your fork to press the spices into the water (it’ll make you feel like a real chef!) By the way, turmeric alone will make the Sapporo Ichiban noodles taste like a $10 product!
To say this is the only thing on my mind is silliness. To put forth this as the only thing on my mind is equally absurd; however, one can’t help but wonder who (or what) to put to the highest.
Fear of having my dreams stolen?
Aha!
Let it be from this point on that I dedicate myself to Vaermina: a renegade among atheists. Because from the inside, I may be able to dream more of dreams and search. Because it terrifies me dreams are cast upon everyone equally, I must find refuge!
And work?
We’ll put that aside for now! Please! I beg you!
Oh my!
And what of all the juggalos who became disillusioned by the curtain revealing God?
Now, I am again forgotten and without purpose, because what of them?
Am I atheist again? An atheist juggalo so guided by the wealth and weight of a story?
‘We’re not sorry that we tricked you!’, if I recall correctly.
Surely that spun a few heads around, and did you see how they sank down like a spring and shot out 50x as strong as anything imaginable within themselves?
How long did I stay in denial?
The one thing I can speculate is, order comes from the chaos! And perhaps it’s true that too much order is a bad thing, but yet, we’re still subject to the blazing heat of a never-tomorrow. And it is for this that I am eternally grateful, for a chance at story… for better or worse. Let it be!
Then, there is the note of freewill, though there is no sense in fiddling with the thought so much; time flows one way on Earth, and so, I am certain freewill is restricted by a plea for survival.
And I don’t want to find out (if I have the choice) until all these fucking ducks get in a fucking row! I am so sick of these loathsome ducks never being where they ought to be! I am so fucking sick of them not lining up like I want them to!
Then, there is a quadrilogy of secrets inside me, endlessly fighting for supremacy: one I wish I could sing, one I wish I could confide, one I wish didn’t exist, and one that means nothing to no one. Surely the reason why giving my all to dreams and Vaermina is so persuasive. Surely the reason why a purgatory called the Carnival is so enticing.
I want to grow old enough to witness community work wonders.
So, what do I do, then?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Write, I suppose. In an attempt to orientate intent, I’ll write, and become a teacher in this short time—what I’d already done (maybe) a couple times. And if there’s more that spills from my fingertips, I’ll, thusly, put the virtual ink to the virtual paper with virtual methodologies in mind.
I wish I could play Minecraft right now. Easy living, easy explorer!
There are wacky ideas I’d had in the past. There are two I’d like to name here:
• Self penis growth • Self eye ‘fix’
It may come as a surprise. I haven’t emerged unscathed from wacky ideas in my life. Perhaps there’ll be a time when I really delve into what my thoughts and logic were regarding these items, but essentially, to the first, I thought for sure you could reach far back enough to access the ‘root growing’ place within the penis! To the second, because my eyesight was getting worse, I figured it made sense to take its health into my own hands and meditate on force within the eyes to achieve a beneficial result.
Neither of these ideas came to fruition. To the former, I gave up out of frustration, and it turned out that I had been controlling the muscle way back there, and in so doing, was filling my member with more blood than it would normally! The latter fell flat because no matter how much constant pressure on my eye I placed, my vision continued to get worse, and it was not until some time later that I was educated to the reality: that my corneas had lost their integrity!
I am not particularly proud of these achievements. My grandmother used to regularly bring up a writing I made on eyesight and pressure, and that was somewhat of a sore spot for awhile, honestly. It seems now she’s aware that that was a bottomless pit of intention without any notable gains.
Along with these wacky ideas, there was collateral damage, but well… I just hope those affected are living regular lives without feeling weighed down by ‘lost’ opportunity. That is the sentiment I’d like to put out there, save for the ex-roomate, ex-bandmate, (definitely) ex-friend who stole most the band merch I owned from me.
That was a dick move, Mr. Sager. Mr. Taylor, I hope you enjoyed wearing my Queensrÿche tee out in public. Fuckin’ kleptomaniacs… Yea, you think I didn’t know it was you that stole my brand new mic right from under me… Yea, I didn’t know at first. You got away with that shit. Hope it made you feel good getting back at me for whatever the fuck I did to you.
Of course, I know nothing about the psychology of kleptomaniacs. I’ll bet they steal just to steal. Whatever. Is this me deflecting away and trying to steer the conversation away from my embarrassing past ideas? My bad.
Hope ya’ll get a chuckle out of my failures! Thanks for reading!
I’d 13 years to think about where I’d be if I hadn’t lost my voice. For the sake of hypotheticals and for those who feel it isn’t a waste to delve into hypotheticals, I believe it has finally dawned on me: It’s really quite better this way… in a rather obvious way. Let’s go over the reasons briefly: (I spent all of a minute gathering my thoughts on this list!)
• Terrified of losing my voice • Didn’t understand voice’s reversing behavior • Not smart enough to understand voice’s reversing behavior on own • You don’t understand just how terrified of losing my voice I was.
Points one and four mean to emphasize that I was terrified of losing my voice. By this notion, it can be inferred that this would have continued into the future, and not just gone away, leading to more psychopathologies along the way. I already suffered from burning in the throat, lips, and eyes with and without speaking. I had never told anyone that it would happen even when not engaged in conversation; primarily, I am sure, because I was in denial of how bad it was. Listening to music and ‘working away’ was my only refuge.
Point two and point three can be lumped together as well. As stated before, somewhere along the way, I’d lost my way. Understanding how to speak normally as everyone else does was outside the scope of my abilities. ‘Taking on water’ is a good way of putting it, and for this reason alone, two and three, here, would have ensured the mystery would baffle me forever.
There is some closure in knowing roughly what you have to do to reverse course. The knowing-this-much has been so unsettling to me in the past, but I think I am, finally, seeing another image in the distance, revealing itself to me. Suspect is the reality ‘One needs to prepare the voice to lose it so swiftly’; however, have no doubt, someone will seek out to discover the validity of such a proposal… no doubt because of these writings.
I would beg you not to toy with the reversing of VE! It is a terrible place to be. No, you don’t understand what it’s like to not be able to be heard in a crowded room, talkers a’talkin’ away… How about not being able to project your voice across a street unless it’s purely quiet? Then, keep in mind, this speaks of nothing of the torture the first year or so is. It does grow back, yes, yet those first trying months are tirelessly brutal because you will not be heard without yelling as hard as you can manage! But the loss of the feeling of your own voice will deal the greatest damage!
Here I am, rather lucky in that I didn’t have to work until four years later. And somehow I managed that, with great patience for the new person I had to become and accept, hiding the pain I felt from everyone I came into contact with. The sick irony of it all is, no one will realize something of such gravity befell you! The only person who’d notice is someone who’d heard you sing before and after, and then, they’d even say ‘Why aren’t you singing the way you know how?’ And I didn’t have this luxury.
I think I’ll just publish this as is. I have been thinking of more these past few weeks, but the immediacy isn’t striking just yet!
Now, let’s all have a good ‘ha-ha’! One, two, ha-ha!
But the big question is, how do I address this matter? My mother smoked when I was in her womb. No, I don’t know how often or how frequently, but my grandmother told me that she’d seen it one time, and well, smoking is like cockroaches: You see one, there are a hundred more you haven’t seen.
I don’t particularly care. It just all makes sense now why my tendon up the left side of my cervical spine came loose when dismounting from a bloody teddy bear stand. (If you’re wondering why I said tendon instead of muscle, it’s because apparently muscle is connected to our skeletons by tendons. I feel so smart knowing that!) I looked it up, by the way: Smoking while pregnant can cause all sorts of ‘artifacts’ to emerge. One being interfering with development; another being musculoskeletal defects… Whatever that means…
I don’t think I’ll ever talk to my GP about it. I don’t even know why I still have a GP. Yea, he did help me get off nicotine with bupropion, but—here’s a little story:
I told him, ‘Hey GP, I have toe fungus on one of my toes! Can you help me out?’ You know what this prick says to me? ‘I don’t see anything.’ I did scrape some of the fungus onto my finger and try to have him smell my finger. Unfortunately, that’s something I don’t think he was too interested in, so he didn’t really lean in to smell.
It’s from football; from playing in the wet most likely. Literally had this fungus on both my big toes since I was like 14, and this guy says ‘I don’t see anything’. Of course, it’s just the right toe now because I was able to cure my left toe with terbinafine cream some years ago. The right toe is still having glorious spore parties on my toenail, to my glee. You want to know how I know? You can fucking smell the bastards when you put your fingernail right to your nose! Sure am glad I never got athlete’s foot though, though that definitely would’ve forced me to deal with this fungus earlier in life. \end story
Here I am going on 34, and we’ve finally solved this mystery! Really, it was nearly a year ago when my grandmother told me, mind you.
I was 21 when I ‘lost’ my voice. Just hearing gen Xers and older can trigger a teary episode. TO THIS DAY, the voice is so beautiful and amazing, and fascinates me to no end, and yet it destroyed me. I remember that it destroyed me, too. Not by being, but through ignorance; plain and simple ignorance!
How does it make sense that the man with the pavement tiles has to hold them and place them competently as blind as he is?
Maybe it’s just a simmering frustration because of that medication that stole my mind from me. ‘Adverse reaction’ speaks nothing to the inner torment even vague memory elicits.
It’s all right though. I did something a few days ago: read reviews. And just like that, it brought into perspective the fact that my experience isn’t the worst. While it isn’t that I fixate on not being ‘the worst’, it’s so in your face! It’s there! Accessible to anyone who has an Internet connection, and there are them reviews right there! Of all the fucking things: reviews! RFK, Jr. has a lot of work to do if he’s given the chance to tackle the pharmaceutical industry as he says is due.
Personally, I just want my voice back. The voice with all the progress. Time keeps ticking on…
Listening to Psychrology by Psychroptic right now. The album is loaded into queue. Was listening to that most recent Jordan B. Peterson Podcast episode a bit ago now. I haven’t listened to the whole thing, but it definitely is a good one!
I do really need to get an updated family photo put together, too. Momoka is turning 25 this October and Fremy is turning 29 in August. Maybe in a couple paychecks. I am definitely more than a little sick of the one daki. We need a real family photo, and the sooner, the better!
Damn, man! This Psychroptic is great! Good music is good!
I think, now that I’d cried most of my sadness away, I’ll make a small list of awesome albums that you should listen to:
① Ornuthi Thalassa by Serpent Column (2020) ② As Gomorrah Burns by Cryptopsy (2023) ③ ’The Isle of Disenchantment’ (2001) & ‘The Scepter of the Ancients’ (2003) by Psychroptic ④ Of Fracture and Failure (2007) by Ulcerate ⑤ S/T (2008) by Mass of the Fermenting Dregs
And finally, the hit song of the hour: SIGN by THE OTHER FLOWER.
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, and in reality, it certainly is what we think it is.
How can I be so certain? Easy! I took hold of a dream, and while thinking I was within a song, pressed as hard as I could forward (with sustain) from the mouth. It took maybe four seconds in all before I could feel the wall that is dense VE in my gut.
How superb is that?
Of course, this wasn’t the first time I’d ever taken hold of a dream for such a cause; however, it was the first time I did so without fear.
Perhaps I wasn’t expressive enough. This sensation used to trip me right the rock candy out.
Not only did I not understand what it was, I had never settled on a diagnosis. (These two things are basically the same thing.)
Now, the irony isn’t lost on me. I feel as though I am at the end of my life, and I’ve finally discovered how to impress upon the instinctual, unconscious mind the importance of building VE.
Still, there is the sense of an accomplishment therein. An almost extraoridinary accomplishment (that no one will believe for another 100 years!)
How lucky am I? How kind am I? How extra classic am I?
When do I put a cap on VST? When will my contribution to humanity justify the suffering? I’d have to be an idiot to think my work would be done before I’m in the grave, so I’ll continue to write about it when the inspiration hits me.
And let’s not be brazen! I have thought of so many things I 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 add to all the things. The trouble is, I am of a particular personality. There are several perspectives, I feel, that are not mine to ink onto reality.
They say how revealing it is to show your hand at the end of the game. I find it frustrating to no rock candy’d end that I can’t talk about 𝘢𝘭𝘭 that ails me, but let’s be honest, if I did, I’d end up silently, stone-faced crying on the couch again, dejected … rejected, just like when Andrew refuted my proofs that year ago.
