Fuck Me

H

hmmnmm

Guest
Fuck me
oh fuck
me, poetically
fuck me, with much
sincerity.
 
I cannot adequately express the great well of gratitude that you've come along, son. Life had become a rut. Not a very deep rut, true, but it was definitely a developing trend. And well, you probably know how that goes. The rut doesn't seem like much of a rut at first, so you don't get all proactive, because you don't see the need to get all proactive, because you think, heck, even if it is a rut or the early stage of a potential rut, it ain't exactly an uncomfortable rut. It isn't until you think it's time to change your position and you realize you can't, because you sunk too deep. To make this lengthy tale of gratitude less lengthy, that's kind of where I was: in a rut. I mean, the day out there is cherry pie sweet and pretty, and I have ideas musical, poetic, and yes, even slightly prosy; but it was like a veil, a veil of mist, some sort of something shrouded in uncertainty. But then you came along. You descended and held out your hand and I now feel as though I can almost stand upon these two feet, and will soon begin a new journey, striking a path, striking it boldly, into that shroud, that veil, that mist, that gloom, that darkness, and with this metaphorical machete, clear the way, cut down the dense jungle vines that have blocked the way to victory and light for far too long. Thank you.
 
I cannot adequately express the great well of gratitude that you've come along, son. Life had become a rut. Not a very deep rut, true, but it was definitely a developing trend. And well, you probably know how that goes. The rut doesn't seem like much of a rut at first, so you don't get all proactive, because you don't see the need to get all proactive, because you think, heck, even if it is a rut or the early stage of a potential rut, it ain't exactly an uncomfortable rut. It isn't until you think it's time to change your position and you realize you can't, because you sunk too deep. To make this lengthy tale of gratitude less lengthy, that's kind of where I was: in a rut. I mean, the day out there is cherry pie sweet and pretty, and I have ideas musical, poetic, and yes, even slightly prosy; but it was like a veil, a veil of mist, some sort of something shrouded in uncertainty. But then you came along. You descended and held out your hand and I now feel as though I can almost stand upon these two feet, and will soon begin a new journey, striking a path, striking it boldly, into that shroud, that veil, that mist, that gloom, that darkness, and with this metaphorical machete, clear the way, cut down the dense jungle vines that have blocked the way to victory and light for far too long. Thank you.

i will not extend my hand and offer you the customary 'come with me if you want to live' lame ass cliché.

the truth is what you are searching for does not exists..

the ghost in the machine, the holy grail, the essence of essence, philosophical point of a point, the fire in the equations and the canonical qualia of existence.. that magical ineffable transcendental enchantment...

it is all an illusion, illusion of illusions!

so go fuck yourself..
------------------------------------------
edit: and i do not hope to afford you more clarity in the future

there is nothing "special" about existence.. or even any select part of it.. and that is all you need to know.

-Q.E.D.
 
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What makes you think he was writing to you, bochen? One of the symptoms of schitzophrenia is this paranoia and abusiveness that you've been exhibiting. TAKE YOUR MEDS.
 
What makes you think he was writing to you, bochen? One of the symptoms of schitzophrenia is this paranoia and abusiveness that you've been exhibiting. TAKE YOUR MEDS.

Yeah, what gives?

Actually it's the sweetest jolt of inspiration I've experienced in... a long time. And it's funny it happened this way because I was just thinking the other day how, despite how humans tend to give lip service to the ideals of peace and stuff, it's actually sudden acts of radical and sometimes violent flavors that seem to give impetus and... you know what I mean. Conflict. Graininess. Friction. So paranoia or no, I found the momentary turbulence somewhat stimulating. Wonder if it was Michael Jackson?
 
That'd be pretty cool huh? Suffering such sweet verbal abuse from a legendary pop star. Popping pills and laying Phuck You rants on us, and then he keels over soon as he hits Submit. We experienced last waking contact with none other than Him. And together, we effected worldwide change. Wow. Fuckin-A.
 
I thing that can help increase my gratitude is realizing that my troubles are trivial when compared with others, and that I'm not unique. Getting out of that comfortable rut is hard, though. Decide and act.
 
What makes you think he was writing to you, bochen? One of the symptoms of schitzophrenia is this paranoia and abusiveness that you've been exhibiting. TAKE YOUR MEDS.

um.... who do you think was he talking to? I always assume that when a person posts something in a public forum that they are talking to everyone who reads it.

Am I schizophrenic too?
 
I thing that can help increase my gratitude is realizing that my troubles are trivial when compared with others, and that I'm not unique. Getting out of that comfortable rut is hard, though. Decide and act.

A quick glance at what's been going on in Iran tends to help in that realization that my problems too are rather trivial. Extremely trivial. The most trivial. I mean yeah the continual wonderment of what to do and how to do it is a bit pesky but it's really a blessing that it's the main worry these days.

And really, I won't dare assume anything for another but this time of year it seems to be a real chore to get the gears turning to make a written fictional or poetic thing. Twinges of autumn seem to be the better time.

Oh and the fucking mosquitoes being out and about... they're pesky too.
 
Well I'll come clean: yeah this all started from the spammish visitation earlier today. His or her footprints were rather quickly eradicated, but in a moment of inspiration I felt like playing along and that's where the opening post came from. Slightly out of character yes, but that's the beauty of this stuff. Some insane and zany explosion: and away we go. When I saw that the spammish visitor's work had been plucked (except for the one reply that is sandwiched betwixt Carrie and me) I authored a brief memo and sent it to a higher up Forum official, explaining how this thread appeared here, and that it would be perfectly fine to have it sent on its way out into the never-never cyberlands. But then, great invisible forces caused more entries and a vague shape began to appear... and here we are now. I'm not proud of the title. But there it is.

Ah! Mosquito...
 
Now, It'd be fine if this was relocated to the upper levels, or even hooked to the Fireside Threadcast (although an argument could certainly be made for a more seasonally appropriate title).

Whatever works.
 
Don't knock the rut! when you get jolted out of it for whatever reason it's one hell of a shock and you realise what a lovely place it was to be. Give me back my rut now!
 
um.... who do you think was he talking to? I always assume that when a person posts something in a public forum that they are talking to everyone who reads it.

Am I schizophrenic too?
anna? Did you read bochen's comments to Tihmmnmm? That's who I was addressing. All of his spammy "FuckYouYouMotherFuckers" posts have been deleted from all forum boards, so my references to schitzoid behaviour may seem a little odd, but this person, bochen, that is, is totally whacked. I know the comment begs the question of who am I to say if someone's schizophrenic or not; consider, though, that I merely described a couple of schizophrenic traits, perhaps unfairly but if the person is mentally impaired, then maybe my medication advice was well-pointed.

eta: I didn't quote bochen's post in my earlier one because if someone had him on ignore, odds are they wouldn't want to read his quoted venom either.
 
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anna? Did you read bochen's comments to Tihmmnmm? That's who I was addressing. All of his spammy "FuckYouYouMotherFuckers" posts have been deleted from all forum boards, so my references to schitzoid behaviour may seem a little odd, but this person, bochen, that is, is totally whacked. I know the comment begs the question of who am I to say if someone's schizophrenic or not; consider, though, that I merely described a couple of schizophrenic traits, perhaps unfairly but if the person is mentally impaired, then maybe my medication advice was well-pointed.

eta: I didn't quote bochen's post in my earlier one because if someone had him on ignore, odds are they wouldn't want to read his quoted venom either.

I plead guilty for egging bochen on. Feel a bit bad about it, especially if it was a cry for help. Had the whacked episode occurred now/today or yesterday or any other of the 364 possible days, I'd probably given it no second thought. But... what happened happened, and... really I generally connect through empathy with the Whacked, or some of the Whacked. It was a whacked day after all. We lost the king of Pop.
 
Whacked comes in various shades after all. Or degrees.
Hm, poetic potential? Whacked poetry? Wacky? The differential is a mere H. Yeah, new possibilities. Directions. Very good.


Anyway, there's quirky whacked and then really whacked whacked. Whacked that is quite harmless and whacked that doesn't care who its rages of whackery visits, a whackery attack that even a Gandhi might succumb to respond to, yet the severely whacked does not realize they are pointing their brutal whackery at none other than Gandhi or a Gandhi-like person. Now Gandhi or the Gandhi-like person struggles with remorse that he egged on the one who was way out whacked.

But the Whacked Poetry.

Sometimes it takes a visit from the whacked to get things going.

I think Gandhi or the Gandhi-like person would wish to thank that whacked one.
 
And Champ, if I ran an ad agency or something like that, naming products and such, and/or was filthily loaded, I'd damn sure court your time and talents. But I run no Co. and I ain't got no dough. Alas.
 
I think it'd be fun to design sex toys that resembled celebrities and historical figures. The Elvis, the Mick, the Ringo... the Lincoln, the Winston... wouldn't that be fun?
 
anna? Did you read bochen's comments to Tihmmnmm? That's who I was addressing. All of his spammy "FuckYouYouMotherFuckers" posts have been deleted from all forum boards, so my references to schitzoid behaviour may seem a little odd, but this person, bochen, that is, is totally whacked. I know the comment begs the question of who am I to say if someone's schizophrenic or not; consider, though, that I merely described a couple of schizophrenic traits, perhaps unfairly but if the person is mentally impaired, then maybe my medication advice was well-pointed.

eta: I didn't quote bochen's post in my earlier one because if someone had him on ignore, odds are they wouldn't want to read his quoted venom either.
That explains what I saw earlier - I was checking on his posts etc. and saw 47 but then nothing there - just the count. I usually try to do a little research 1st.
 
The Poof! or Poofer.
That's another good one.

A little zapper that you make someone who's getting on your nerves disappear from your awareness. They are not actually harmed or eliminated, just blocked or something. After sufficient time passes you can re-poof them and see how they're doing. If they're cool you let them hang out. If they're still getting on your nerves you re-poof them.

A dimension clicker more or less.
 
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