Let me tell you how bad I have it

I wanted to write an article, right ? Because it's been a while, and I love writing for Trilema. Back in the day I used to write pieces hourly, nowadays the weeks stretch into years and the years pile into centuries and cohorts and eons and whatnot before I put two words together.

And yet... there's nothing to write about!

I don't do anything, practically speaking, in the unexpected sense that I live in a sort of paradise, a complexly decocted tincture of perfection countless cocottes labour to provide me with. I drink the best rum in the world, but I've already mentioned it. How many times can you say the same thing over again ? I also have cocktails, but il migliore, naturalmente and I don't happen to feel like sharing the recipe of the world's best cocktail with the world at large.

I go to the beach, and it is the best beach there is to be had.ⁱ Unlike the cocktail I feel like sharing some limited aspects (images, mostly, because I sure as fuck don't want to see the "general public" anywhere even remotely near), but what's that do for the problem at hand ? I've already shared so many, it's well described. What, yet another YAPP ?

In short, if it's any good it stays good. If you don't feel like sharing there's nothing to say, and if you do feel like sharing you've probably shared qs already.

Other than that, I do unspeakable sexual things, but they're unspeakableⁱⁱ and moreover how god damned much intimacy can one share before he becomes a sort of camera rather than a sort of person ?

I vaguely considered posting the chatlogs of "here's how a cold call turned itself into an obedient girly aspiring to enslavement", for instance. "Case study" as they're pompously called, or "field reports" or whatever, amirite ? "Learn from me", as fucking if that's how learning goes, you watch the surgeon play with knives and then go play with knives upon your sister's abdomen one evening.

Maybe I could have done it before she landed here, play it like a game, "wanna bet whether she actually comes or not ?". You know, to tease the usual sort of idiot mind out of the usual "plausible deniability"ⁱⁱⁱ, to force the eternal "I'm not what I do, I'm what I think" moron into some kind of captivity in a web of real events, "if you knew she wasn't coming why didn't you bet". Not that this does anything, from experience, the lost stay lost, there on a stage in Omaha claiming they "couldn't find" the mirror staring them in the face. Why not ? What'd you expect ?

Yet there must be a limit, and if indeed I am yet under it, then no one alive is above ; for all the clamour and pretense, idle as all other words in this sad, atrophied language ever are -- there's no other more substantially, or even comparably public existence. I'm sure there's idiots being followed about by cameras, but this is not more, in the exact sense 24/7 security camera footage is not more A cote de chez Swann, but less. Infinitely less.

I also watch films. Since I'm constructing a filesharing server containing everything I ever reviewed I've also been rewatching everything I've ever reviewed. I go to write a new review afterwards, and faithful to the method I look up the old one first. Believe it or not it's every time the same exact thing I wanted to say, maybe I'd change a little bit here and there, but minor, cosmetic things. By and large, the diff's not worth the patching, so to speak.

And then, on top of all that, the more substantial points of policy, thereby eminently public matters, happen quite naturally in the forum of the Most Serene Republic. I could have made an article out of that, but to be honest this'd have been more akin to graft, deliberately misdirecting the public flow towards private capture. It just didn't work ; we can all print articles about it, after the fact, like I suppose in a sense this one, and like diana's, and so on -- but it, the it itself, belongs in retrospect exactly where it went and found its own place by itself.

I suppose I could fix some other bit of revered, classical or otherwise self-important bad prose, like I've already done dozens upon dozens of times. Truth be told, I've had Shackley's whatever loaded up ever since alf graciously provided the copy, but I couldn't be bothered to as much as read the title. Honestly I'd much rather read myself than whoever the hell else, nobody can fucking write worth a shit (in the sense that the very limited few who could are a) long ago dead and b) long ago read and re-read, RIP Twain).

This is how bad I have it! I have nothing I wish to say! I've already said it all! I'm not merely expressive, but thoroughly expressed! And the mechanisms of expression so fine, so refined, so efficient and ample and grand that should I somehow, sometime (not today!) come up with a trickle expressible, it'll have been expressed long before I even catch on!

I'm now going to have an exprimido and think about all this...

1. I am not drinking myself under the table on tap water over here. Beach bums of Californite extraction confess that this is true, "man, I love the beach but I've never seen anything like this!". It's a fact, factual like the Sun's rays hitting straightest at the Equator, no more nor any less than that. [↩]
2. Like say, picking randomly among a hundred or so possible examples, the girl who fell in love with me because I ordered her to and now it's all

   Jul 18 23:02:45 *** good night, i love you!!
   Jul 18 23:29:16 *** lol i hope in like two years, i tell you i love you and you still dont

   Isn't it a great gem of a story ? Unrequited love, such a wonderful thing. [↩]

3. Exactly like that old story,

   no you don't get to "wait and see" so as to then claim the most convenient possible construction as your "sincerely held belief" "throughout"

   Because this isn't the fucking internet, specifically in the sense that there's only one authority, and constructive retroversion of that nature works for the prime mover and for the prime mover only! Rando redditard gets no such privilege. [↩]