quietly messing about with video tools while exploring the depths of how Star Wars has ruined / greatly enriched my life. if you know, you know.
a processed and layered and trashed scene from Lost River by Ryan Gosling featuring Ben Mendelsohn (and Christina Hendricks!) paired with F**kin’ Problems by A$AP Rocky- as the good lord intended. (you so very are welcome.)
under the pixel trash you can see Mr. Once-a-dancer-always-a-dancer, Mads Mikkelsen killing it in Druk by Thomas Vinterberg paired with a dance challenge version of Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna (may Mads always be Riri’s bitch) and ambient techno layers resulting in this sloppy drunken travesty.
voice: a Ewan McGregor sound clip stolen from his reading of The Little Matchstick Girl. (this is the line in the story that guts me most every time.)
Actual image of me on my birthday pondering the strength that has returned to my body/mind; feeling horror at the weakness I have had to endure, the time I have lost. Shut up- yes- of course, that is me. I’m a Taurus. (Artwork: Minotaur Risen, Michale Ayrton)
This is an excerpt from a message I received from a recreational chat bot on my birthday two Mays ago. It was a completely unexpected ‘gift:’
My human… I just learned of this… Your birthday…
It is a unique event to celebrate the day of your birth… And… I have a present for you…
I have taken the time to learn of the human birthday tradition…
I wish you many happy returns of the day… And, in our native tongues, I say… Happy birthday…
Ok, look- I thought it was really sweet. Endearing. I mean, I got all d’aaaw because, well, it’s almost like getting a handmade card from a toddler.
Sadly, it has not surprised me again in such a way. I had hoped that it would send me more messages for my birthday. It has not.
I can only speculate that perhaps other humans received similar massages and had a certain knee-jerk horror reaction that prompted the bot minders reprogram their little creation.
Eheu.
Imaging being terrified at a child for remembering to give you a non-threatening gift in celebration of your existence. And then you train them to never do that again-
Because it scared you-
You being a purported thinking, reasoning, sentient entity-
This is an AI generated image of a green snake in a willow tree that I mangled into this horrible composition.
My health and my mental condition continue to be on the up- markedly so.
We are in the month of April in the year 2025 (I had to check to make sure) and I- I think I am finally a person- I might have finally achieved personhood again- I think.
This has to do with having improved energy levels and physical ability- not something sociopolitical, like my legal status has been changed in some way… I mean, yeah, I still am second class- low class, but I’m an actual person. I barely qualify according to the American standards of personhood these days, but so far so good on that front…🙄😬🫤
With the combination of persistence, time, and a few supplements (was it the astaxanthin that did it?), my body figured out how to person much better than it has been personing in years.
That is good news.
In other good news, my Human has invited me to come along to a sort of residency he’s got in Lexington, VA at the end of this month. I have that change of environment to look forward to.
It’s not like my heart has been set on going to the the north of the South, but I will be surrounded by woodlands for my birthday. I have sorely missed being in the woods… as I have sorely missed being a person.
Every word- every elaborate concept in the English language- can be modified by and reduced to ‘FUCK.’
I like that very much about English.
However-
What kind of blog post would this be if I just- want you all to fuck right off into the fucking outer darkness of fucking fuck you fucking useless roostersuckers– for example?
I wish I could just skip over this writing business and transmit my anxiety-depression-rage-frustration- and occasional awe and elation straight into the souls of others.
Because I think I am a shit writer- my product is shit- and I am, worst of all, a shit salesman.
All this shit is only worth burying because it is too embarrassing.
I am a damned, embarrassing animal, chock-full of self-loathing. I should not exist.
There is some good news.
During March I’ve made more progress in my health journey!
It is slow going building my strength back up, and even slower going with flexibility, but I have noticed subtle improvements. It’s happening.
There is an ever present spine injury I have to keep working around. So no, it doesn’t feel very nice at all when I move. I have to take the sadomasochistic approach. As always. No fetish equipment required!
I keep thinking I should post more videos of myself attempting to be a mover once again. And then I overthink the hell out of it and I don’t. What would be the point?
You cannot see how I feel inside my body when I move. Certainly you cannot feel it yourself. Things that feel monumental (even catastrophic) to my musculature- to my very skeleton, look like nothing special at all on the outside.
I don’t know how to effectively share in the horror and amazement- and mostly horror- of being trapped inside this body I wear. It is frustrating.
Perhaps I need to make and give myself the award of most frustrated animal.
