I know the things I've never known,
I eat the meat between my bones,
I crunch the numbers of all that's not,
I plot, and plot, and plot and plot.
I fail to be or to exist,
I feel fear, so I predict,
I have to know, I need to know,
Or else, I dont know where to go.
I look upon the fools and dolts,
Unfazed by gods, and thunderbolts,
I pity them for ignorance,
To the depths, my knowledge sinks.
At no moment, do I rest,
But at least I know, and I can test,
I can run experiments,
I can guess the future's hints,
As things get more predictable;
What I predict, I also kill.
I need love, I need to be safe,
And so I lay this world to waste.
My blanket of security,
A nothing-world, for you and me.
Too terrified to take a leap,
I instead succumb to the deep,
Was once a boy with life in hand,
Now I am the guessing man.
This journal is a work of fiction. Know that if you are reading this while I’m still sucking air, and therefore against my will, it is without my approval, and I will hold a grudge against you until the day you die. I suspect you’ve gained access to my Google drive.
If you are reading this after my death—most likely a suicide, or a tragic lonely agonizing choking to death on a piece of lightly chewed ribeye—I won’t hold it against you.
I am using this fictional journal to stretch my literary legs. The people and actions in this journal are entirely fictional despite any similarities they may seem to have with reality.
Whatever you're planning to do- don't. Okay? There are resources and what's more, the only state that you or anyone else can enjoy a good ribeye is 'alive' (I am more of an NY strip guy but they're all pretty good if done right meaning salted just before hitting an extremely hot flat top until crusted outside pink inside, more salt)
anyway:
https://voca.ro/1mMDoAKMZLUL
Always laffin at my shit
-_-
Nicely done
you say 'what I predict I also kill' with a straight face
Don't care whether or not the OP reads this post of mine but I recently wrote out an imaginary will as a thought experiment. I've since deleted it but right at the top I put a disclaimer along these lines, something along the lines of:
THIS IS NOT A LEGALLY BINDING WILL, NOR IS IT EVEN AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO IMAGINE MY REAL LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT TO BE. IT IS MERELY A THOUGHT EXPERIMENT WHICH PRE-SUPPOSES THAT MY PARENTS HAVE PRECEDED ME IN DEATH. DO NOT CONSTRUE THIS DOCUMENT AS A RELIABLE INDICATION OF MY WISHES.
The basic ideas in the imaginary will:
1) Everything is split up among my first cousins (no siblings, friends, lovers etc to leave anything to).
2) Clear hierarchy of who will act as executor (one of them).
3) Use my estate to pay off all debts and funeral expenses (this is standard stuff in a will).
4) The executor gets a little extra for his trouble, an extra percentage, enough to be worth his while but not so much that it would really bother the others, but only on three conditions: my body is cremated, no organs or tissue are donated, harvested or otherwise preserved for any reason, and the memorial marker, if any, is not to bear any religious or organizational symbol or logo of any kind.
(My wife and I recently made living wills just in case because anything could happen and somebody has to get everything right away without turmoil and nonsense because both our families have gone through the process of stupid and frankly disgusting quibbling over articles worth less than a trip to the supermarket. Get a living will. Pay a lawyer. Elect an executor/trix [a female executor is called an 'executrix'!])
https://voca.ro/1msyOSyR9MvJ
Donate your organs, even if they're fricked. Med students learn how not to nick a kidney or whatever in some procedures. You're dead, who cares?
The parents recently re-did their wills and I sat in on the conversation with the lawyer, signing the documents. There were about a dozen or so distinct copies of documents. Basically their plan is set for end of life, when one dies the other gets everything (standard), when the last of the two dies (I hope not for a long time) I get everything as the only child. The lawyer commented from a legal/will point of view this family situation is convenient because it makes absolutely everything ironclad and there's no fighting over anything, he indicated (of course, without going into any details) that he had horror stories about families with siblings fighting over the stupid money. "I had a young woman sitting right in that very chair where you're sitting right now... and then later she... [no specific details, just generalities). They also explicitly wrote an estranged aunt out of the will because she betrayed our family at an important time years ago and none of us wants anything to do with her ever again. I was happy to hear that they had included that legally binding language in their will because I actually included the same idea in my imaginary and non-binding will. This aunt has a history of going after other family estates that she has no right to.
Happily, you can't tell me what to instruct be done with my dead body, and you can't make me help others in any way, because I don't wish to. I have never ticked the "organ donor" box on the license renewal, and I never will. I even used florid language in the imaginary will: "The bodily remains are to be cremated and, as far as is practicable in the normal and usual process of cremation, entirely disposed of as waste."
2 weeks ago
Anonymous
Fair play, it's your organs after all. If you want to burn them in front of a cancer patient or have them made into liverwurst, it's not my business.
>atonal
I like discordant language, it has a tone all its own.
it's password protected......
maybe I should remove it. what was I thinking. Google has everything now. At least I've been hesitant to truly reveal myself in the journal. Your right, oh frick. Im freaking out now. If Julia reads the things I've said....
CODE RED
Difficult to say whether this is pure sarcasm, but: you can do a fair job of scrubbing what you've given to google, or at least minimizing it. I have three distinct gmails for various purposes (two almost never used, dormant accounts that I keep active for one or two niche purposes) and some months ago I went under the hood and wiped various histories fairly thoroughly. Of course this isn't complete and total deletion but still. Also I do not allow any personal account to be mapped to my phone, if one were mapped I would just reset the thing.
2 weeks ago
Anonymous
I just deleted my journal and the rough draft of my story off my google drive. Ill just keep them on my PC HD and a flash-drive. This is for the best, Now I can really get weird in there. There is always a part of me that is worried it will be read. Everything that's written will be read. Things are written to be read. Yes, Kafka, I'm reading your diary, you wanted me to, deep down.
frickfrickfrick ive opend my google drive on my work laptop while it was connected to the work VPN its so over.
damn, the hivvies. A straight ticket to hell. What will I tell my priest? What will I tell my lover? How about my wife? Hopefully they give me a proper burial, but we all know what they do to friends of Dorothy in this town. They throw them into a ditch and pretend like they didn’t exist. But I didn’t contract it through sexual activity. Oh no, it was those godforsaken needles. Anything to take my mind off the fact my boss has been giving me extra work and there are lips moving in middle management, maybe they’re just rumors. Who knows. I might lose my job. Then the needle will be the only friend I have.
An incoherent and very strange fragment. Possibly AI generated:
-"the hivvies"?
-The narrator seems to be a middle-aged bisexual man simultaneously cheating on his wife with a man and shooting heroin at the same time, begging to get pozzed up. At the same time, he seems to live in a rural setting (implied by the ditch phrase, which slightly suggests the Matthew Shepard case). "Friend of Dorothy" is also an archaic code phrase for a gay.
-A bisexual man of all people is supposed to know with certainty that it was the needle that gave him the poz. The work-related language in the end also slightly suggests that he's getting fricked by his boss, or something else is going on.
-the narrator seems to be in rural America, years ago (largely but not exclusively protestant) and yet he must tell his "priest". The priest becomes another potential sexual partner.
The whole thing reads like a hodge-podge of vague gay stuff.
Okay. I guess your main intent was to force the OP to narrate it, but I still wonder exactly what you meant. I am reading way too much into a shitpost I suppose.
The Guessing Man
I know the things I've never known,
I eat the meat between my bones,
I crunch the numbers of all that's not,
I plot, and plot, and plot and plot.
I fail to be or to exist,
I feel fear, so I predict,
I have to know, I need to know,
Or else, I dont know where to go.
I look upon the fools and dolts,
Unfazed by gods, and thunderbolts,
I pity them for ignorance,
To the depths, my knowledge sinks.
At no moment, do I rest,
But at least I know, and I can test,
I can run experiments,
I can guess the future's hints,
As things get more predictable;
What I predict, I also kill.
I need love, I need to be safe,
And so I lay this world to waste.
My blanket of security,
A nothing-world, for you and me.
Too terrified to take a leap,
I instead succumb to the deep,
Was once a boy with life in hand,
Now I am the guessing man.
https://voca.ro/13faXsKuoqiX
A very special episode
mid-atlantic, but I can try
captchas are hard
Always laffin at my shit
-_-
Nicely done
texan?
passed out immediately lol
To whom it may concern,
This journal is a work of fiction. Know that if you are reading this while I’m still sucking air, and therefore against my will, it is without my approval, and I will hold a grudge against you until the day you die. I suspect you’ve gained access to my Google drive.
If you are reading this after my death—most likely a suicide, or a tragic lonely agonizing choking to death on a piece of lightly chewed ribeye—I won’t hold it against you.
I am using this fictional journal to stretch my literary legs. The people and actions in this journal are entirely fictional despite any similarities they may seem to have with reality.
Whatever you're planning to do- don't. Okay? There are resources and what's more, the only state that you or anyone else can enjoy a good ribeye is 'alive' (I am more of an NY strip guy but they're all pretty good if done right meaning salted just before hitting an extremely hot flat top until crusted outside pink inside, more salt)
anyway:
https://voca.ro/1mMDoAKMZLUL
you say 'what I predict I also kill' with a straight face
Sure....but did you understand what it meant
'kill' is just such an atonal and over the top word choice, what about working in the word 'prevent' as a counterpoint to the word 'predict?
>atonal
I like discordant language, it has a tone all its own.
Don't care whether or not the OP reads this post of mine but I recently wrote out an imaginary will as a thought experiment. I've since deleted it but right at the top I put a disclaimer along these lines, something along the lines of:
THIS IS NOT A LEGALLY BINDING WILL, NOR IS IT EVEN AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO IMAGINE MY REAL LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT TO BE. IT IS MERELY A THOUGHT EXPERIMENT WHICH PRE-SUPPOSES THAT MY PARENTS HAVE PRECEDED ME IN DEATH. DO NOT CONSTRUE THIS DOCUMENT AS A RELIABLE INDICATION OF MY WISHES.
The basic ideas in the imaginary will:
1) Everything is split up among my first cousins (no siblings, friends, lovers etc to leave anything to).
2) Clear hierarchy of who will act as executor (one of them).
3) Use my estate to pay off all debts and funeral expenses (this is standard stuff in a will).
4) The executor gets a little extra for his trouble, an extra percentage, enough to be worth his while but not so much that it would really bother the others, but only on three conditions: my body is cremated, no organs or tissue are donated, harvested or otherwise preserved for any reason, and the memorial marker, if any, is not to bear any religious or organizational symbol or logo of any kind.
(My wife and I recently made living wills just in case because anything could happen and somebody has to get everything right away without turmoil and nonsense because both our families have gone through the process of stupid and frankly disgusting quibbling over articles worth less than a trip to the supermarket. Get a living will. Pay a lawyer. Elect an executor/trix [a female executor is called an 'executrix'!])
https://voca.ro/1msyOSyR9MvJ
Donate your organs, even if they're fricked. Med students learn how not to nick a kidney or whatever in some procedures. You're dead, who cares?
The parents recently re-did their wills and I sat in on the conversation with the lawyer, signing the documents. There were about a dozen or so distinct copies of documents. Basically their plan is set for end of life, when one dies the other gets everything (standard), when the last of the two dies (I hope not for a long time) I get everything as the only child. The lawyer commented from a legal/will point of view this family situation is convenient because it makes absolutely everything ironclad and there's no fighting over anything, he indicated (of course, without going into any details) that he had horror stories about families with siblings fighting over the stupid money. "I had a young woman sitting right in that very chair where you're sitting right now... and then later she... [no specific details, just generalities). They also explicitly wrote an estranged aunt out of the will because she betrayed our family at an important time years ago and none of us wants anything to do with her ever again. I was happy to hear that they had included that legally binding language in their will because I actually included the same idea in my imaginary and non-binding will. This aunt has a history of going after other family estates that she has no right to.
Happily, you can't tell me what to instruct be done with my dead body, and you can't make me help others in any way, because I don't wish to. I have never ticked the "organ donor" box on the license renewal, and I never will. I even used florid language in the imaginary will: "The bodily remains are to be cremated and, as far as is practicable in the normal and usual process of cremation, entirely disposed of as waste."
Fair play, it's your organs after all. If you want to burn them in front of a cancer patient or have them made into liverwurst, it's not my business.
I still think "kill" is a poor word choice
It is what is homie. Thanks for reading it
Also imagine being so fricking stupid as to store this sort of thing in the cloud lmao
it's password protected......
maybe I should remove it. what was I thinking. Google has everything now. At least I've been hesitant to truly reveal myself in the journal. Your right, oh frick. Im freaking out now. If Julia reads the things I've said....
CODE RED
Difficult to say whether this is pure sarcasm, but: you can do a fair job of scrubbing what you've given to google, or at least minimizing it. I have three distinct gmails for various purposes (two almost never used, dormant accounts that I keep active for one or two niche purposes) and some months ago I went under the hood and wiped various histories fairly thoroughly. Of course this isn't complete and total deletion but still. Also I do not allow any personal account to be mapped to my phone, if one were mapped I would just reset the thing.
I just deleted my journal and the rough draft of my story off my google drive. Ill just keep them on my PC HD and a flash-drive. This is for the best, Now I can really get weird in there. There is always a part of me that is worried it will be read. Everything that's written will be read. Things are written to be read. Yes, Kafka, I'm reading your diary, you wanted me to, deep down.
frickfrickfrick ive opend my google drive on my work laptop while it was connected to the work VPN its so over.
HIV
damn, the hivvies. A straight ticket to hell. What will I tell my priest? What will I tell my lover? How about my wife? Hopefully they give me a proper burial, but we all know what they do to friends of Dorothy in this town. They throw them into a ditch and pretend like they didn’t exist. But I didn’t contract it through sexual activity. Oh no, it was those godforsaken needles. Anything to take my mind off the fact my boss has been giving me extra work and there are lips moving in middle management, maybe they’re just rumors. Who knows. I might lose my job. Then the needle will be the only friend I have.
An incoherent and very strange fragment. Possibly AI generated:
-"the hivvies"?
-The narrator seems to be a middle-aged bisexual man simultaneously cheating on his wife with a man and shooting heroin at the same time, begging to get pozzed up. At the same time, he seems to live in a rural setting (implied by the ditch phrase, which slightly suggests the Matthew Shepard case). "Friend of Dorothy" is also an archaic code phrase for a gay.
-A bisexual man of all people is supposed to know with certainty that it was the needle that gave him the poz. The work-related language in the end also slightly suggests that he's getting fricked by his boss, or something else is going on.
-the narrator seems to be in rural America, years ago (largely but not exclusively protestant) and yet he must tell his "priest". The priest becomes another potential sexual partner.
The whole thing reads like a hodge-podge of vague gay stuff.
No, I actually wrote that
Okay. I guess your main intent was to force the OP to narrate it, but I still wonder exactly what you meant. I am reading way too much into a shitpost I suppose.
Yes
>An incoherent and very strange fragment.
Welcome to IQfy
Smash