how to remove a curse/hex of lucks nefarious and bad? i recommend eraser. surely buy this curse/hex eraser, merely dollars five from reputable websites near you. did you know? bad luck is like a graphite pencil: eraserable, and good luck is eraserable. oops no luck, oops all gone but mayhaps it is intentional? remove luck, achieve neutrality. eraser!!! buy it now.

personality is an artistic medium

Yesterday I played with the Obsidian Dataview plugin and its querying language. I am happy to report my possession of new powers. They are list powers, they are table powers. My metadata and I are more mighty than ever we were before.

I have been watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine! One episode per day. I have today finished season one. Earlier I was talking with a friend who is familiar with the show, but I flubbed the name of the show. Deep Strek Spar Stace Nine...

the thousand miscomprehensions that build a wall of total ignorance :<

pitter pattering my cat today

not inside us all, but inside us each

Imagine a heart. Isn't it an ugly thing? A tangle of veins, of arteries, all extruded from the central blob. This is how we talk about love, by reference to the very core of the cable management nightmare that resides inside us all. Don't you want to fix it? Get some zip ties in there? Zip, zip?

saving whosoever lives forever from the kinds of death — by stuckness, by stagnation, perhaps by madness or by grief — that exist in life even after the terminating point has been removed

a new friend has appeared; it is my serendipitous friend who i met once upon a time two years ago, returned for a second and a third time. today i asked them how they felt about holding hands and the answer is that we can snuggle very much. ^-^

i wanted to be transgender because i wanted to be beautiful

i keep... squeaking. at random.

"Mwap," he said, and he did this thing with his hands. Sort of fuddled them in my direction, though extending no further than than the very immediate proximity of his chest. He paused, attempting to articulate. "Blee," and, "hmmm," and he exhaled with consternation all across his face.

Elizabeth wanders into the arms of her forgetful friend, and the friend, halfway through, forgets her. Turns cold, ducks gently out of the hug. Turns to the desk behind her, and starts to write: "Dear Elizabeth," exquisitely inked, fountain pen, "I miss you ever so much." And Elizabeth, peaking over the shoulder, watches as the letter is composed.

i assume that all love is conditional? some love is particularly robust, but even still may fail. and it is not a natural fact that some loves are more robust than others; they have been made by circumstance and cultivation into what they are. it is never a given.