2022, Unwrapping in Progress
Been some time once again, hasn't it? Longer and longer, every time. So many changes and yet, such an odd sensation when the time comes to finally sit and commit my thoughts to the page, or screen, or whatever you'd like to call it.
Some sad news to start with -- the departure of dear Zacky Faelacky from this platform. She let me know she was on her way and off she went and that was that, cessating her connection to LiveJournal as so many people I know have. It's strange, and transient, and saddening, and I should have said goodbye and got in touch more.
Yet I don't really get in touch with most of everyone these days, whether adored or abhorred, and much of this stems from the fact that, this year especially, I seem to have accepted the fact that I simply don't like people. Actual misanthropy. It's like part of me has always been pretending and yet any time I meet anyone new there is always this quiet internal sense of revulsion and an urge to escape. Some people think I should work on healing that, but I don't actually consider it a problem, and can confirm that my life is always easier these days when fewer people are involved.
With that in mind, what does the shape of this life look like, nowadays? Well, it's me, it's Milkshake and it's our dear little puppy, and we have moved away from our stupid little Norfolk market town cottage to a bungalow the next town over -- still renting, because who even can own anything nowadays?
This move was almost entirely spurred by the fact that we were increasingly miserable where we were and there were practicalities and illegalities that simply wouldn't comfortably converge with the life we wanted to build. Moving has been a slog, and plenty expensive besides, yet it has been accomplished and we are exhausted and still rebuilding. I don't really want to go into a lot of the specifics, as I continue to believe that much of my life is -- in a direct contrast to why I began writing here so long ago -- simply not worth tabulating in granular detail. You can depend on yourself to forget, and since so much of so much is such abject nonsense it simply does not warrant nor deserve immortalising.
And thus, bar a few nuggets of noise here and there, we finally have a quiet sliver of the suburbs to call our own, at least until whatever serfdom-related nonsense any landlords decide to concoct come calling. It's all just feudalism by any other name over and over, isn't it?
Speaking of, I don't bother with mainstream jobs any more. I am a combination of carer, for Milkshake's health is difficult to her, and self-employed writer, because I've accidentally been shown how to haul huge gobs of cash out of Canada while sitting indoors at home with comparatively little effort, and intend to fill my proverbial boots accordingly until someone inevitably finds some nonsensical reason to object, by which time I will have hopefully already escaped and begun to do something else.
That's something that's continued motivating and inspiring me, amid this sea of the unexpected and this ocean of perpetual change. I was wailing and gnashing my teeth trying to secure even a modicum of stability and security, yet have come to the realisation they don't logically exist. We've already all witnessed the fact that our planet and civilisation are farcical enough in their fictitious intricacies that they can actually be turned off if something bigger than us comes along and shows us what's actually important, and so it's not worth trying to pin one's hopes to things like a job or a salary.
In fact, a salary is a hard cap on what you can bring home, and it takes a month to do it. Right now, I can grab resources by the week, and wherever it becomes apparent we need more, I push harder and am actually rewarded in kind. Any other occasion, I coast.
Suffice to say, with moving and economic whatevers going on and all this other bananas, I've been leaning into the workload more than I'd like, but needs must. The level of glorious abundance being offered both within and beyond such vocational capering is outrageously comfortable enough to warrant the admittedly constant exhaustion. There has been almost comically good fortune smiling on me for months now, and I love it.
But yes, my point is that I try to remain fluidic, to remain like water, as they say -- moving through, around, flooding over, never just barging at things or tugging at things any more. If something stops working I just flow another way until it either does again or something better happens, fealty to none but myself, loyalty only to my prizes. It is, admittedly, easier said than done. The brain likes to latch onto nonsense and ruminate.
I have embraced my introversion, my darker thoughts and my lighter side, and I'm content and happy and confident in all ways. Directly confronting anyone beyond an initial short sharp shock seldom leads me to great places, so there is a consistent calling to subterfuge. I don't mind this. I am relishing my quiet and deliciously fulfilling villainy.
I've learned a lot, I guess one could say, and am happy to say that although the processes are laborious enough that I can scarcely notice their machinations for being a cog whirring everly within such, I am free and appealing and I see with majestic and inspiring clarity the purposes to which it is worth committing.
My contentments right now are found in peace and privacy, the likes of which I once lambasted on this very website, as well as whatever riches I can muster. Money is meaningless, but that just makes it more fun to make. There's more to life, but I've seen it and I've smelled it and I frankly don't much care for it.
I'm a river-mind of a pirate, and I take whatever I please while you idle yourself with endearing babblesome nonsense. Almost nobody ever sees me in any meaningful or lasting way, and I've come to discover this has been a secret strength of mine all along -- equal parts indistinguishable and indefatigable.
Lovely stuff. A new home, a fresh start, and fat pockets of plunder. What now?
Some sad news to start with -- the departure of dear Zacky Faelacky from this platform. She let me know she was on her way and off she went and that was that, cessating her connection to LiveJournal as so many people I know have. It's strange, and transient, and saddening, and I should have said goodbye and got in touch more.
Yet I don't really get in touch with most of everyone these days, whether adored or abhorred, and much of this stems from the fact that, this year especially, I seem to have accepted the fact that I simply don't like people. Actual misanthropy. It's like part of me has always been pretending and yet any time I meet anyone new there is always this quiet internal sense of revulsion and an urge to escape. Some people think I should work on healing that, but I don't actually consider it a problem, and can confirm that my life is always easier these days when fewer people are involved.
With that in mind, what does the shape of this life look like, nowadays? Well, it's me, it's Milkshake and it's our dear little puppy, and we have moved away from our stupid little Norfolk market town cottage to a bungalow the next town over -- still renting, because who even can own anything nowadays?
This move was almost entirely spurred by the fact that we were increasingly miserable where we were and there were practicalities and illegalities that simply wouldn't comfortably converge with the life we wanted to build. Moving has been a slog, and plenty expensive besides, yet it has been accomplished and we are exhausted and still rebuilding. I don't really want to go into a lot of the specifics, as I continue to believe that much of my life is -- in a direct contrast to why I began writing here so long ago -- simply not worth tabulating in granular detail. You can depend on yourself to forget, and since so much of so much is such abject nonsense it simply does not warrant nor deserve immortalising.
And thus, bar a few nuggets of noise here and there, we finally have a quiet sliver of the suburbs to call our own, at least until whatever serfdom-related nonsense any landlords decide to concoct come calling. It's all just feudalism by any other name over and over, isn't it?
Speaking of, I don't bother with mainstream jobs any more. I am a combination of carer, for Milkshake's health is difficult to her, and self-employed writer, because I've accidentally been shown how to haul huge gobs of cash out of Canada while sitting indoors at home with comparatively little effort, and intend to fill my proverbial boots accordingly until someone inevitably finds some nonsensical reason to object, by which time I will have hopefully already escaped and begun to do something else.
That's something that's continued motivating and inspiring me, amid this sea of the unexpected and this ocean of perpetual change. I was wailing and gnashing my teeth trying to secure even a modicum of stability and security, yet have come to the realisation they don't logically exist. We've already all witnessed the fact that our planet and civilisation are farcical enough in their fictitious intricacies that they can actually be turned off if something bigger than us comes along and shows us what's actually important, and so it's not worth trying to pin one's hopes to things like a job or a salary.
In fact, a salary is a hard cap on what you can bring home, and it takes a month to do it. Right now, I can grab resources by the week, and wherever it becomes apparent we need more, I push harder and am actually rewarded in kind. Any other occasion, I coast.
Suffice to say, with moving and economic whatevers going on and all this other bananas, I've been leaning into the workload more than I'd like, but needs must. The level of glorious abundance being offered both within and beyond such vocational capering is outrageously comfortable enough to warrant the admittedly constant exhaustion. There has been almost comically good fortune smiling on me for months now, and I love it.
But yes, my point is that I try to remain fluidic, to remain like water, as they say -- moving through, around, flooding over, never just barging at things or tugging at things any more. If something stops working I just flow another way until it either does again or something better happens, fealty to none but myself, loyalty only to my prizes. It is, admittedly, easier said than done. The brain likes to latch onto nonsense and ruminate.
I have embraced my introversion, my darker thoughts and my lighter side, and I'm content and happy and confident in all ways. Directly confronting anyone beyond an initial short sharp shock seldom leads me to great places, so there is a consistent calling to subterfuge. I don't mind this. I am relishing my quiet and deliciously fulfilling villainy.
I've learned a lot, I guess one could say, and am happy to say that although the processes are laborious enough that I can scarcely notice their machinations for being a cog whirring everly within such, I am free and appealing and I see with majestic and inspiring clarity the purposes to which it is worth committing.
My contentments right now are found in peace and privacy, the likes of which I once lambasted on this very website, as well as whatever riches I can muster. Money is meaningless, but that just makes it more fun to make. There's more to life, but I've seen it and I've smelled it and I frankly don't much care for it.
I'm a river-mind of a pirate, and I take whatever I please while you idle yourself with endearing babblesome nonsense. Almost nobody ever sees me in any meaningful or lasting way, and I've come to discover this has been a secret strength of mine all along -- equal parts indistinguishable and indefatigable.
Lovely stuff. A new home, a fresh start, and fat pockets of plunder. What now?