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Yes But Can U Not Tho

The title of this post has become a bit of a catchphrase for me, because I'm oh so hip to web slang you know. Apparently. I also am a bit tired of everyone being a pain in the fundament, despite the fact that everything is going so remarkably well.

It's notable because, in a recent entry that I read back a few weeks ago, I clarified exactly how I wanted life to go and it's sort of gone in that direction without incident, bar the unwelcome and consistent interference of other people. Ergo, I am for the most part thankful.

Work has been sporadic during much of January, settling into a rhythm of being over demanding and annoying as we move into February, so that's nice in a no-it-is-not-but-just-think-of-the-money way.

Like most millennials, the vast majority of the issues I'm having nowadays stem from Facebook, which I appear to be too entrenched within and too stupid overall to stop using. Basically, long story short, it's stirring up lots of family drama for some reason, even though I believe I am, however imperfectly, doing things that a decent family ought to support.

And the thing is, I have a remarkably good family overall, and one usually most supportive indeed of all that I do, so quite why they get so butthurt about me moving out of a house they're partly responsible for and thereby eliminating much of their stress is beyond me.

Yes, Milkshake and I are moving, hopefully into an apartment that's a bit pricey but with good cause, that is decently located close to where I am currently - but also away from these god awful neighbours and their constant circus antics. I'm not even going to tabulate them all here because one day I will read this back and entirely forget what those antics were, and if it's not written down I can't remind myself and all shall be suitably transient.

But yeah, between the work I'm doing being as seemingly wilfully inconvenient as possible, and my own family conjuring up problems out of thin air because we've all successfully purged our lives of extraneous drama and so now they've got nothing to do and all day to do it, it's all a bit more complex and frustrating than it needs to be.

Sleep has been a bit rare as a result, alongside many other notions, and it has made exhaustion a constant companion. Our new landlord is also rather slow at communicating or keeping to his own deadlines, but seems kinda on the level otherwise.

Guess we'll find out? At least I won't be living in this dilapidated echo chamber of a house among the maddened and the damned. I hope to God whoever moves in here next is just uniformly dreadful all round.


They Say Fashion Kills

And so, 3:40AM, I put all thoughts of sleep behind me, popped a caffeine pill, downed the last drop of Lucosade and decided to get on with things. I mean, I'll be exhausted tomorrow either way, surely?

Maybe not so much, as I'm finding as the old year dies and the new begins that I've got this weird... low appetite, high energy kick going. It's not flawless, but it's economical and efficient and rather welcome. We're an expensive species to pay the upkeep of otherwise, right? Although money's still spilling out of me like I've just been shot in Ready Player One or something, and my goodness wasn't that film some lively oddness?

I'm keeping my opinions to myself more and more, simply because next to nobody seems to agree with me on anything, not that this really matters. - it's just that explaining oneself takes energy that, I dunno, I guess could be channeled into accomplishment in some way?

Fury keeps you up at night, doesn't it? I in part think that's why I'm here, stirrings of the Darkchild alike. She's been a little more potent in manifesting of late, in myriad ways I shan't explain because of the reasons here-above tabulated. For similar reasons, I shall neither chronicle my fury here either. This era of bemoaning the world on this blog is over, I daresay, although I also wryly wonder how long that no whining ethos I'm trying to cultivate will last.

Daresay I won't even get through this post without having a whinge, so bear with. I've got tons to be grateful for though - many more career opportunities than the majority of my contemporaries, and likewise far more emotional sustenance and relationship security than many people get in a lifetime. Things are... settling as much as they're seething with the urge for change that, for once, I'm ready for. Spirit of the season maybe?

There's always a weird societal thing that happens around the time of a new year, and I certainly don't know anyone remembering 2018 with even the vaguest whiff of fondness. To those who are though, you certainly have my respect and admiration.

I'm lacking on confidence in my abilities as a writer of late, and as a partner - not sure why. Just some vague anxiety thing I guess? I feel a lot of what I'm doing in all respects is mediocre, and likewise that I've killed off a lot of ties to social circles through my own design as I strangely hurtle back to the life of barely participating in the world I was so doggedly trying to escape from all those years.

Isn't it bizarre how, in fiction, old and wise people who've reached enlightenment seem to be those individuals who participate in the world the very least?

But yeah, feeling mediocre, yet happy and thankful that people are willing to pay me to do what I do. People worse than me will get paid to do it, people better than me will get paid to do it, and that's how it's always going to be.

I've been agonising somewhat over the choice between stable job and freelancing wild west, but seem to be leaning towards the latter a speck more. The idea of making my own fortune on my terms appeals, and the security of any given job seems to be something of a facade either way. I'm likely to be bored whichever road I travel, and that's OK, because being paid to be bored is better, at least, than being paid to be stressed.

So I guess that decision's made? I dunno. Interview for the cushy job is in a few days, although in earnest it appears as though the agency has its head up its own arse a bit.

Hey, it does, OK? It's OK, I have my head up my arse half the time too. See, this is why I keep stuff to myself more.

There's a lot of new year new you stuff that gets bandied about, but I do have a good feeling about the whims of fate going forward. I see a cosy and out of the way place for Milkshake and I to segue smartly into, with a minimum of fuss but perhaps a touch of anxiety. There'll be some health scares here and there that are more anxiety triggers than actual symptoms of unwellness or danger. My social circle will continue to diminish, at least in the first half of the year, and it'll be OK.

Much of 2019 will be a case of tidying up after 2018, which in and of itself seemed to be a bit of a tearaway of a year, gleefully dismantling everything. Nobody asked for it, but it'll be revealed to be in the so called greater good everyone's always telling you about.

I will... somehow make dazzling amounts of money with comparatively little effort, in part due to some weird cosmic apology the multiverse has, I'm convinced, been proffering to me since I turned 30 as a sort of sorry-for-your-twenties thing.

And I will, in keeping with that irony, spend the vast majority of my downtime playing videogames and doing nothing of consequence, in the ultimate tributary sentiment of urgency to return to aspects of life I left behind in chasing dreams that led only to the feckless and interminable need to sacrifice the scant few scraps of sanity I could even have been initially argued to have in order to pay for the capacity to actually continue living, which incidentally I feel only keen to do because the cessation of such would, I am confident now at last in saying, prove of considerable inconvenience and emotional despondency to other people whom I am proud yet bewildered to care about.

Some people get paid fortunes to write sentences that long, you know. Time to continue being one of those people.

That, and use italics for emphasis far more often than is generally necessary or agreeable in a sadly post-Pratchett society.

Let's Not Do That Today

Always happens. I sit down to write some shizzola cola here and entirely forget everything I wanted to say.

Also, how is it Christmas Eve already? Not gonna lie, having a slightly rotten Christmas. The build up was good, because I crammed work and went on a holiday with Milkshake to a British seaside resort in which I seemed to entirely leak money forever for some reason - genuinely terrified of how fast my fortunes are vanishing, although me constantly buying videogames on sale likely doesn't help - but the week in which Christmas Day itself is set has been... full of bustle and obligations, none of which I really want.

Still, life is good and I've little to complain about, apart from other people's children as usual. My partner and I have nothing to give one another on Christmas Day because we've been giving each other stuff throughout the month, which is a lovely way of spreading it out that nobody approves of. To me, it makes perfect sense - if the media and the retail realm decree we need to celebrate Christmas spread over as long a period as possible, why should we relegate gifts to just the day?

Because it's the done thing? Goodness me. Like we're ever going to get any satisfaction in doing the 'done thing'.

Unlocking bullshit aside, isn't the new Smash excellent? And I freaked out when Joker from Persona 5 was announced for it! Must has!


I forgot to mention in the other post back there that I'm trying to live by a new mantra, with mixed success. Essentially, where I've been overwhelmed a lot by work lately (more on that momentarily), I've somehow, by the grace of loveliness, stumbled upon this little phrase. "What can I remove from this situation to make it simpler?"

It doesn't sound like much, perhaps because it isn't and that's the point, but it directly combats my penchant for complicating things. So it could be that I reschedule something, do something another day, simplify my approach to... you know what? It works nicely and I need to remember it more.

I'm not focusing on work much right now, but it's looking busy for 2019. I'm being sought out as a freelancer, while also have - overcomplicating my existence, of course - got a job interview at a creative agency at the start of January. Looks to be quite a cushy one too.

So I'm in this self created dilemma - pursue this cushy, comfortable thing, or continue out in the wilds, which I'm only in because it was that or starvation? See, the wilds have done me some kindness, while the stability of a traditional 9 - 5, replete with perks, is attractive. Whichever choice I take, someone's gonna get pissed off, which is how you know you're doing things to benefit yourself. People try and talk you out of it.

It's a chore having to block people out all the time or just... I dunno, the fact I have to stand my ground so often. Everyone fronts like they're live and let live and they're just not, it's in people's natures to meddle. Me too even, I have to call myself up and step back sometimes.

It'll be good to see 2018 gone, won't it? I'm not really thinking about the road ahead, mostly because when I do, people start talking about what I should be doing with it. Lots of people have my best interests at heart, of course, but it's still plenty of pressure at times. Just wanna do my thing.

Being in a relationship gives you an odd perspective on the dating game overall. And like, if I'm around members of the opposite sex and being odd, as I was yesterday, I can just not worry, which is jolly nice. I don't even mean to be odd, it just happens when I talk.

Milkshake got me this tiny little mostly functional half tablet half laptop thing, a complete festive surprise indeed, and I'm slightly more excited than I should be about it. The Shadow PC streaming service I use is great, as is her laptop overall, but... I dunno, something about that tiny thing being all mine...

Feel like I'm rambling at this point. Will likely remember everything else as soon as I post this post. Hope things continue to improve, and that me and my partner can move smoothly and effortlessly into a quiet new place while earning gobs of cash.

Gobs, I tell you!

Take The Mask Off And Feel Free

I've become very rude on Twitter, which I can't help but think is bad for me. I also recently told someone on Facebook to go fuck themselves. Seemed to do the trick, at least for now.

I dunno. Milkshake has been saying she's at the point in life where she's kinda just done with people being rude or getting away with crap for no reason, and I guess I'm inclined to agree. Speaking up against stuff seldom feels comfortable to me, but I've had a 100% success rate with it so far. People seem to think that if they're reasonably bossy about a given thing they can get away with all sorts.

And condescending behaviour - don't get me started!

I'm up early today. Woke up at 5:20AM to sort out a phone interview to Australia. Writing work is going... well, I guess? Ticking over, keeps me busy, but not so busy I can't goof around. Freelancing is interesting, to say the least.

I'm drawing a bit of a blank at the moment, I thought I had more to talk about. Why is it the end of the year already? Does that seem right to you?

A lot of frankly remarkable games have come out this year, have they not? It's been a heck of a thing. Certain circumstances in life have rendered me a tad indulgent in that regard, which I'll get to momentarily.

See, I remain heartily respectful of death and all the weird and unpopular opinions it engenders. But funerals? Funerals are weird.

The ceremony in which we put my grandmother away or however you want to word it was... all at once rather strange and pokey, but also somehow got under my skin a little bit. I guess I'm not heartless. Yet from a callously mechanical standpoint, it's very strange that the only way for life to have reached an even keel for me was for, basically, somebody to die.

But you can't say that! You can't go around saying that to people! Everyone in the family thinks it, but you can't say it!

Exclamation marks!

Before anyone goes giving me that look - you know the one - keep in mind I've been in working poverty now for, what, two or three years? Less than a week after payday, I've always been left scrounging, scraping and having to sell possessions to eat.

Now, granted, this inspires a certain kind of resourcefulness in people, myself included, and going without is certainly a rather motivating factor that helps set one's priorities straight. However, I can't really condone, recommend or in any way endorse the idea that people should be put through this consistent kind of nonsense just to be able to live in a world that - whisper it - is seldom worth actually participating in.

Now, I'm still in aching amounts of debt. It's still going to complicate my life for years to come, until such time as other landmark windfalls come through. Which they will.

Not sure how yet, but I guess that's half the fun?

However, the fact of the matter is that inheritance kinda matters, y'all. It seemed to take ages to get going and there was all this fuss in the family about... if folks were getting a fair shake, yadda-yadda (my folks can be a bit skeptical and over dramatic), and then all of a sudden, there it is. Didn't even find out the amount until the last minute because, well, asking is not the done thing, is it?

And so suddenly, eating and being comfortable but not exorbitant needn't feel so far away. Have splurged somewhat on Milkshake for Christmas, mind you.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, a five figure sum would've helped. That's all I'm saying.

Can't really quibble with the funds as bequeathed to me, of course, but...

So comfort and a sense of relaxation have become more welcome mainstays. Money can't buy happiness, and likewise not having it doesn't diminish you, but having that... sense of having some backing is nice. But how weird, to reiterate, that someone had to die for that to happen.

It's also, despite cautiousness, diminishing far faster than I'd like.

I'm as much to blame for that as anyone else, of course, but you'd be amazed at how many fumbling little pockets of nonsense come up that suddenly need swathes of cash to solve. Not cool.

Every so often, at least once a day, I'm given a piercing pang of hunger that more or less paralyses me. Has happened as I'm writing this, and it likely doesn't help that I resent eating so much.

The human body has, in recent months, become to me an almost ridiculously needy thing to maintain. I've been thinking about it, and only sensual stimulation of a pleasant variety makes having one worthwhile. It's likely that pleasure it the perk and things like pain, hunger, illness etc. are the all too costly 'buy-in' for the experience of incarnation or whatever.

Feels like I'm rambling. Thought I had more to say than this? I guess not. Comfort is mine, at least for now, and it's allayed some concerns while creating more, few of which I indulge because... well, there's no sense really in worrying, is there?

Anyway, it's nearly Christopher Moose, and that's... I mean, I'm looking forward to the downtime, but you also gotta run around doing stuff with people so it's not as much a break as I'd like. Hmm.

Boy Must Have Stamina

I am 32 now, which is jolly nice.

Le birthday has le come and le gone, and a whinging little part of me notes that I got far less Facebook happy birthday bombles about it, but then I realise that's not even that important and quietly get on with my life. It does always interest me who does and doesn't remember however.

In fact, thinking about it, all but one of the people I've met through this strange LJ thing of mine here reached out to wish me well
, and isn't that lovely? Miss Makoto, Miss Eden, Zacky Faelacky. Other individual exists but likes to pretend she doesn't. To each their own.

I purposefully cultivated a quiet birthday, although my sister kindly paid for a cinema trip for Milkshake and I. Bohemian Rhapsody - very good, recommend it, and I don't really like movies but pretend I do to get by in the world so this has to count for something.

Milkshake got me lots of gifts - look at all this Chocola Cola right here.

Also received money from family, not a huuuuge amount and I've had to dip into it for living expenses to survive because life is weird (but not as weird as for my neighbour, who had a house party recently and then went back to a quiet existence and then last night set her house on fire for some reason).

The money is hopefully to be reimbursed from myself to go towards Pokemon Let's Go Eeevee though, because obviously that is a perfectly sensible gift for a 32 year old man.

You know, the game they're purposefully targeting at kids and newcomers. I know, I'm dreadful.

Have received surprise tickets for Hyper Japan this year from someone I used to work with too, on 17th November, and with that and numerous other things in mind it's becoming a bit of a busy month.

Milkshake also got me The new Tomb Raider, which I thought would be as po faced and RAH TAKE ME SERIOUSLY DAMN IT I'M MISERABLE as the other rebooted ones, but is actually pretty decent.

I run around in it as retro Lara though, mostly because I can, mostly because the low poly to realistic other characters and environments thing amuses me, but also because old Lara was better than brand spanking new grimdark chatty half-pint twelve injuries a second "independent woman" but entire life revolves around daddy issues Lara.

Not that classic Lara's look was ever, y'know, progressive...

Another reason this is gonna be a busy month is work, of course. On one side of the freelancing coin, there's all this intensive content I'm writing for that geezer over there, you know the one, who gets really shitty with you if things go wrong.

I pointed out the most recent error was due to the instructions he'd given me and also told me to follow to the letter, and he just messaged back "ok" and I didn't hear from him for a week, which is the best thing for it really because I just want him to give me £180 a week and leave me alone.

The magazine's got a bit passive aggressive too, as I've been thrown lots of work I've admittedly not had the foresight to recognise I can't complete in as timely a fashion as they like. I've been given a grace period to clear the backlog, but it's a bit of a backhanded compliment of sorts because it also means I'm getting no further work, slash pay, until it's done.

But now yesterday there's this new sudden deadline and this layout of what to do for when and stuff, all jolly japes, and information that they're having to 'commission other writers more than they'd normally take on as our calendar fills up'.

Good for them? Why haven't you proactively anticipated the upswing you've been building the business for? Why aren't you bringing in more writers - even the ones I've recommended to you? Why do you, basically, not have structures in place for things like this?

It's still my fault in most respects of course, but I'm plugging through bit by bit. Severely difficult managing my energy levels these days. Annoying.

But yes, all in all things continue going my way, and seem set to continue doing so. It's a marvellous time of year.


Scorpio season is in full swing, hoo-hah! Having spent the vast majority of God only knows how long feeling tired, lethargic and entirely out of the loop, it's a welcome shot of energy. Oddly enough, and annoyingly enough, my energy always seems to dip the moment I settle in to do any work. Probably because, given the choice, I would never do any work.

Milkshake, my other half, sometimes believes I'm a workaholic, but rather I think I just scramble too much to make work important because it leads to money, a matter that has been a thorn in my side for years now. Literally years on the poverty line and, my own stupidity aside, I've no idea why.

And if you think work stops making you poor, forget it. The societal scales are very delicately balanced to ensure there's always some scraping by to be done. Even now, with things improved - didn't I say they'd improve? - I can't rest on my laurels just yet.

And isn't Red Dead Redemption 2 almost embarrassingly good looking?

I'm also entirely, utterly in love with the new Xbox avatars. It's like I rocked up fresh outta Dreamworks.

Anyway, yes. Freelancing. That's what I do now, it seems. With the odd French project put to bed, at least as near as I can tell, I've managed to somehow stumble into being reasonably high demand, having to choose from a lot of offers simultaneously to get things done. Very flattering, but also a little pressurising - and because of how thinly I'm now being spread, there's more criticism of what I'm doing than I'd like. It's like I'm being lazy and doing the bare minimum and whinging all the while or something.

There's some very loose phone game app writing stuff (I'm named in the app menu thingy as an author!), which pays little but is fun and consistent, and a big bulk of content agency work that's demanding to the point I've had to crunch a few weekends to meet the deadline, as well as put the business magazine stuff on the back burner - which they haven't liked, because apparently after months of paying peanuts they're suddenly busy and I have to subsequently interview and write up articles on every executive in the world.

Whassat about?

My own fault, many of these awry circumstances are - yet I still also find myself pursuing a great deal of incompetence in others also. This became tediously bureaucratic when it emerged that a governmental payment had been paid into a bank account that no longer technically exists, and a lot of chasing up and waiting on hold on the phone did that entail. Hoo boy.

Other times since last we spoke, people have just plain done shitty stuff, and while I know I'm not perfect and certainly no longer am as good to folks as I used to be, I just... I dunno. I can't fathom the reasons behind why some people just are shitty and refuse to be held accountable for their actions.

In other news, my grandmother passed away yesterday, which I'm not really talking about as such since it's all family gubbins and a great deal of... I mean, she went through a lot, and was barely even there in the end from what I'm told. It's strange how death, which we all spend our lives trying to elude, in many ways arrives as some inevitable and welcome mercy when life is just a bit too... lifey.

I've been getting into all these Alan Watts philosophy lecture video thingies you get on YouTube nowadays, especially the ones where he says life is all a game and we're all playing a role. I know, I know - trust me to enjoy that kind of thought. But it helps take the pressure of, lemme tell ya!

I'm sure I've got tons more to talk about but I can't remember what so here's another picture of my spaceship instead.

My Switch needs more love. I'm mildly addicted to PS4 trophies so prioritise that system wherever able, to say nothing of my Steam backlog. Milkshake also went and got me a PS Vita and let me have it early for my birthday too, and I gotta say, that system deserved a far fairer shake than it got!

I know, I know - only now starting to play a practically dead system. I can't help myself, I'm a hipster gamer. Wanna play stuff nobody else is and has never heard of and tell you doggedly how good it is and nobody listens and then they actually play it and are like OMG and I'm like DID I NOT JUST TELL YOU THOUGH


Far be it from me to write things down in such a way as encourages the universe to entirely shake things up, but things are finally getting steady. Milkshake and I are strong and united, and it's the best relationship I've ever had and the most... contented. Workloads are evening out, giving me a good mix of projects with decent enough pay that I can keep climbing out of poverty bit by bit. This year has been a bit of a dumpster fire, and certainly isn't over yet, but at least it seems content to allow me to have enough to live on now.

Things will, of course, continue to improve further still, and I'm grateful for that. I guess beyond that, I've not much else to report!
Am I repeating myself in the Firefly and Serenity quotes for post titles yet? Feels like I might be.

Anyway. The year remains a tough one, with August just shyly outpeforming July in the positivity thing, but not by much. I survived, and maybe that's enough. I've had nothing but brighter tomorrows promised to be all year, and it seems to me I've stumbled through a fair few tomorrows that always seem to conveniently procrastinate that knowledge.

I have, for whatever reason, become fond of Twitter again, and am continuing to daftly pursue a freelance writing career, if only because pursuing a regular career is somewhat more daft.

As far as freelance endeavours go, I managed to secure a job writing for a visual novel phone game company, which initially was very exciting and even at just the right side of not dreadfully paid, although Upwork likes to take a truly gargantuan cut and then smile and say they're helping freelancers out. The visual novel itself isn't anything lewd, but nonetheless I had the enjoyment of coming up with a corny if lovely story and submitting the overview for payment. Payment of any kind in my direction is always to be encouraged.

Mostly because I can barely afford to eat and would like to provide for Milkshake, who to her credit goes some way to providing for me too.

Anyway, this French startup sends me all their vigorous gumph, by which I mean guidelines to how to write the visual novel script, and I get to work. 3,000 words, the guideline says, and many more instructions that turn out false besides. So some other frog-man strolls in on the online chat app thingy and says no no, this is wrong for X Y Z reason, and now I gotta fix it.

I sulk for a week and bash out some nonsense the evening after he politely asks where the update is.

It's possible I'm not very good at this.

It's all fine in the grand scheme of things, but for the last eighteen months or so the world has seen fit to admonish me whenever I get excited in writing something and put some passion into it, and quite frankly the world is wrong.

So the perpetuity of that false truth annoys me greatly. And there's still the skittishness of folks to contend with too - some upbeat agency sort gets back to me the other day for a proposal I submitted months ago, organises an online conference for us to 'discuss the way forward', then bails at the last minute. Aggrannoying.

I'm fielding other opportunities or whatever you want to call it, and trying to scratch by as and how I can. I really sincerely am. Scrolling through these freelance things is a bit like parking up the ship and finding a job in Elite Dangerous, except there's a trillion other ships also there after the same thing. And lots of weird prove-yourself nonsense that it's surprisingly difficult to tolerate when you've - happy, grateful remark actually coming - had the good fortune of actually working for nearly ten years, on and off, as an established and paid writer.

Been a long strange trip, right?

Also, I take sodding lovely pictures in Elite Dangerous, I do. Nobody cares, but I don't care they don't care, I like to do it. Me and my spaceship. God, that's a weird yet enticing game.

Anyway, relationship's going splendidly, people more or less leave me alone, I've much time to do as I please, and if my health ever actually affords me any modicum of energy and even-keeled straightforward existence in any way, I might even be able to actually accomplish something soon.

September is always a lucky month for me, and August is always a dour one. Things will continue to improve.

Things will continue to improve.

Out of Gas... Again

Why make an effort when even the most valiant of them is immediately quashed?

It's easy to believe that I'm having a dreadful year. It's hard to remember everything's basically a series of compelling fictions. I have all this excitement and passion that nobody wants.

Neighbours meddle in my affairs and money sinks through my pockets as soon as I dare admit that I have it. Job interviews promise feedback they never give, and I've got so addled in excitement at a romanticised freelance life I've been wasting my time flapping my urgencies at pretty much everyone on Upwork ever. That site is one heck of a weird jungle, isn't it?

I guess that the problem is that my skillsets aren't altogether unique, not in the corporate writing space. I could use my unique writing abilities to write another book, if I thought anyone would have any inclination to buy one. But honestly, I feel stuck. Honestly, it feels like just one more dead end.

And I can't afford more dead ends sitting here with an empty bank account and vague promises from all and, indeed, sundry, of some wonderful better tomorrow for my soul. Every direction I take is a dead end and it's crushing and lonely, for all the support and love I get.

Last night, Milkshake and I revealed the truth to each other, that if we weren't in one another's lives and our individual lives happened to end, that'd be OK. That was actually a load off my mind. It wasn't some sombre thing, nor some love crazy suicidal pact, but rather a deep appreciation for how terrible this planet and its denizens can be, and a quiet acknowledgement that we could, indeed, go silent into that good night if afforded reason.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just can't see a way out. Trapped indefinitely in maudlin poverty.

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