27 September, 2024

I've been allowing myself to do and feel stuff more freely. letting myself just be.
I STILL CARE ABOUT IT, BUT I THINK ABOUT IT LESS. That's it: I still care, it's undeniable, okay, and I don't know if I'll ever not care and if that would even be a good thing, but I don't think about it as much. And when it does come to mind I try to not dwell on it too much. It's still there, it's still agonizing, granted, but at least I admit this and I'm not like the people who say "yeah I don't care about (insert thing) anymore 😂😂😂 not at all 😂😂😂" but keep talking and talking and talking about the thing. I hate when people behave like that. Like S for example, she always, ALWAYS, nearly every day, say that she doesn't remotely THINK about her ex-bf anymore, then she goes onto several-messages-long tangents about how he still misses her, how he hates his new girlfriend because he still wants her, how she's beautiful and he has never deserved her, and also she stalks his new girlfriend on insta just literally STALKING like a vulture overhead waiting for them to break up. I don't wanna act like that, it's top tier shithead behaviour. So I admit it, I STILL CARE painfully much, but I don't think about it as much anymore and I don't dwell on it. So that's a small win, perhaps.

I think I understand now how some things affected me, at least the things I remember.
Me to myself: thing is bad and unhealthy and it hurts so let's stop doing it ☺ Myself to me: yeah but we need to NOT DO IT for real, practically, like, TODAY. Me to myself: what do you mean.... we can't....... why....... it's not so bad wdym......... Taking care of yourself is hard. Thinking about it is hard. Not thinking about it is hard. Being forced to confront it is hard. Breaking lifelong bad habits is hard. Feeling it is hard. Not feeling it is hard. Weekends are hard. Sundays are a dangerous, liminal time. IT'S HARD and it's okay. With ill people it's supposed to work like this: you are always more or less wonky. That's what sickness means. Acknowledging that you have it means accepting it. It's just the law of nature so it's okay. I'm still kinda mad about that singular time I talked about it with C and she came onto me like "yeah me too" when it was absolutely not her too. Yes I'm gatekeeping. Like it was lowkey insulting as fuck, NO you fucking don't, you can't understand - and even if you could understand in the slightest, you don't have the right to try and relate to me. IT'S NOT THE SAME, FUCKING, THING. The truth is that most people just can't understand, not out of willful ignorance, they just aren't cut for it.
Someone on tumblr said she has "occasional hypersexuality" girl kill yourself, I have occasional alzheimer's when I forget where I've put my phone.

I have many things to do these days but again I've been taking it easy. I have to transplant herbs, sow stuff, work the soil, study, plan layouts, code and more but I'm glad I went to C's because tonight I laughed harder than I've ever had in five months, we talked shit and I rediscovered something on my 3ds. RPG Maker FES. It was the shoddy nintendo 3ds version of Rpg Maker, I made some games on it that I wouldn't even show to my wife of 20 years, and there was a small fandom of 9-year-old kids dedicated to making their shitty rpg's with premade anime assets and awesome "programming" skills. The 3ds has lost internet connectivity so I can't download them anymore, but I already have some downloaded. I came on the spot when I opened the save files. I made C play two of them and we absolutely pissed ourselves. One was an undertale fangame that was... undescribable, and the other one was just... undescribable. I told H about this and asked him if he wants to play them with me, but I couldn't help myself and opened a few save files on my own. All these games are from several years ago. They are mostly serious (albeit very poorly made), so one game has always stood out, that is "cottolengo ebraico" (roughly translatable to "jewish madhouse") made by a guy named "stalin". It was very probably made by one or two 10 year olds that thought it was the pinnacle of humour. In the game you have a team comprised of Stalin (whose avatar is a wise old mage) and Pirandello (italian writer who has nothing to do with all of this) (whose avatar is an anime priest) and you don't do much really, there's no plot, there's this premade town map where you can:
buy "droca" (mispelled "drugs")
talk to a crying clown that tells you "bella giornata" (good day)
talk to a flying machine thing that instructs to beat "musso" (surely short for mussolini) in the house next door
look at some misplaced terrain textures

There's also a world map where the only exit from the town is blocked by a cow that asks for a numerical password. I've never learned the password but wait I have the 3ds next to me right now and maybe I can finally beat cottolengo ebraico. It occurs to me that I've never even tried to level up to beat mussolini. Maybe tomorrow I'll try.

25 September, 2024

I think I met Datura on a beach??????????

Dude I remember when years ago I read Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, and when Helen died I cried SO FUCKING HARD I was full-on SOBBING, UGLY CRYING with a tissue pressed to my face, and I almost never even tear up because of fiction.

X Factor sucks way more than usual this year, but at least, unlike the last edition, I finally got this year's beautiful song that I like very much whose singers will get kicked out on the next episode and will completely disappear from the planet in a year at most. It's something that routinely happens to me. This year, it's this one.

I don't know if it's just copium or something but I've been taking things easier lately, been accepting failure more. I've been messing up, lost a jar. It's okay. I'm going along and seeing what works, what doesn't work. Unlike my foremother Hawwah - Eve - no divine snake ever came to me offering the fruit of knowledge. No, I have to do it myself, I have to fight for it: I have to climb the tree, pull its branches, peel off its bark, brew its leaves, search for its secrets in every remote part of it, by trial and error, trial and error. Even if it means losing one jar or two. Something meaningful doesn't have to be easy and/or fast. Patience. Patience will save me. I'm taking it slow, it's okay. Even just the journey, the sights and smells are worth it. Yesterday out of the paper filter came the brightest, most vibrant blood-red liquid I have ever seen; brighter, redder than pomegranate juice; the blood of Gaia, the veritable blood of Mimosa. Mimosa seems kind, nice to work with. It's okay. I've been easier on myself: I hope this will last.

Yesterday I sowed some seeds for the fall, flop era is starting now!! but again, it's okay, whatever happens. Every day when I wake up I'm finding mushrooms on a zone I've sheet mulched: not just two like the first time, way more. I'm very happy about this, because good soil??!?!??!?!?!? Already??!??!?!??! They are very small thin mushrooms with a wavy cap. If nothing grows, at least they found life here.

Tohru had announced that Sae-ism was coming out yesterday. So yesterday morning I was laying in bed half-awake and not finding the strength in me to get up. Then I remembered: "Sae-ism", and I turned on the light and shot up. I didn't even have to drink coffee, and it was a long day of school (ended at 2 pm). In the afternoon sat down to translate it and like okay (nothing of importance really happened) but as a former weird preteen girl I'm so glad that Yuki exists and gets expanded upon because she's weird preteen girl representation and I think a country should be entrusted to her

THE WEIRD THING IS THAT LIKE..., TOHRU ALWAYS POSTS A SMALL ILLUSTRATION TO GO ALONG WITH THE NEW CHAPTERS RIGHT. WHY DID HE DRAW YUKI WITH THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF TURKEY?????????????????????? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 WHAT DOES IT MEAN????????? WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT MEAN???????

WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT MEAN???????????????

21 September, 2024

nsfw

Mi hanno spottata sull'instagram della scuola 😭 mi sono cagata addosso, ma poi chi cazzo usa gli spotted nel 2024 e al liceo. Già che ci sono, so che parlo troppo del trash italiano anni 2010 ma NON RIESCO A SMETTERE DI ASCOLTARE QUESTA è troppo bella VI PREGO. PERCHÉ LA MADONNA... È VERGINE!!! HAI CAPITO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I scromed when I saw what Tohru's eating for breakfast. I was howling, then I started thinking he's kinda based 🤔 This is actually a breakfast I'd eat, and breakfast sucks to me. I have to learn how to breakfast.

I've concluded that if I don't find a route of administration for THC that's fast-acting but that's NOT inhaling, I'll have to stop using it or at least use it very sparingly while I still live with family. Sublingual, either oil or alcohol, doesn't seem to be fast-acting, although I could try some more rounds with alcohol-based tincture. I'm gonna try the water-soluble powder again, but the last times I tried it wasn't very fast either. (DOES ANYONE HERE HAVE EXPERIENCES WITH SUBLINGUAL TINCTURES OR MALTODEXTRIN POWDER I'LL PAY YOU IF YOU TELL ME 🥰) I'll see: I can't know until I try. And once I try everything and I've given it my all, I can let it go. I don't care as much anymore, mostly because I've had a lot of bad highs at this point and I've realized that it's not worth it to get stuck in a 8 hour long... situation. Because like let's face it. Edibles are terrifying. COME ON YOU THINK SO TOO. You take a dosage that in illegal states is always unknowable (because you don't know how strong the starting material is, no tests and shit), then you have to wait two whole fucking hours before you can know: 1) if you took too little, and you've wasted your time 2) if you took JUST RIGHT (statistically very improbable) 3) if you took too much and are now STUCK with your vision lagging behind you and shit. I can't inhale zeo tek, but then even if I could, realistically I'd be always sucking on the fucking vape like a braindead cart-smoking american high school kid....... not good for me. If I really did have to let it go, I would be sad, but I think I'd accept it, because I've come to realize that it's not worth it. I want to drill it into my fucking head that IT'S NOT ALWAYS FUCKING WORTH IT, I've had many bad experiences because I overdosed, because I was impatient and impulsive. I vowed many times over to not be like that again, and I'm set on making it happen for real this time. No more overdosing and being hard-headed and stupid. I've only had one bad trip, and I don't want it to happen ever fucking again. I want to develop a healthy, responsible, proper relationship with drugs. If I can't get anything worthwhile from THC right now, it's okay, although I'd miss the spectacular molten-sun golden color, and the smell of biscuits, lemon and gasoline. The molecule sits serenely in the stronghold of its being: its pure existence, its characteristics etched into the fabric of reality. If I can't twist, pull, isomerize, tweak and bend it to my will, it's only natural.

Some issues came up with zippo fluid, and I don't wanna get brain damage from smoking naphtha residue because I wanted to trip. I have one tek left but idk about its effectiveness. I'd be very sad if I lost DMT, because I'd also like to use it spiritually, but the point is: it's okay, I'll suck it up. I don't need it. Once I put in my effort, dedication, study and love, I've done my part: the rest is outside of my control, and tormenting myself over it is useless and damaging. Actually I'm done tormenting myself because of my impatience and sense of inadequacy and desire to prove myself and shit. I have to calm down. It's time to chill, and do what feels right to me. Also because if I relax, I won't have to resort to brutally jacking off to relieve stress so much. Maybe I have the slightest clue, the slightest clue, on how to begin reclaiming my sexuality; I don't see it as doable yet, but I do start vaguely seeing it in the distance, as an option, as a possible path that I might explore in the future. LOOK knowing myself I'll probably have some big crisis tomorrow and I'll take it all back. But like something, a little microscopic something, has changed at least for now. And damn I need some hope and I need some congrats like I'm five for imperceptible amounts of progress. Like guys I don't think I'm actually gonna [REDACTED] [REDACTED] anymore 🥰🥰 WOOOOO WOOOOOOOOOO I'M FINALLY NORMAL I'm finally sane for realizing that maybe that idea of erotic self harm I had in possibly the most stressful period of my life is not actually a good idea to carry out after that period has passed. can I get a standing ovation. Maybe it's partly because of those 80s women's health know-your-body books I downloaded. Seeing the female body as a not only divine, but just generally, tangibly, physically elaborate and masterful work of art, created for our benefit, for our survival and for our enjoyment... and not wanting to fuck it up for no good reason at all. At the very least I don't want to physically cause myself harm anymore. Have you seen the illustration of the clitoral muscles during orgasm? (nsfw) holy shit she's just fucking going.

I've been feeling drawn to mugwort. I just think she's neat. Someone described her as "like mystical chamomile" WOAGH.......... I need, but I can't find any excuse to keep her ugly ass in the garden. Maybe since she's a weed, I can just sprinkle some seeds at random and pretend she came along on her own. I am going to TRICK my MOTHER. I DON'T WANT TO KILL OUR THYME, BECAUSE IT WOULD MEAN LESS THYME!!!!! So I told her.... hey what if i tried taking cuttings from it, and from the sage? as a joke. then I hope some will take root, and I'll go: well it worked, dang!! Now I have to plant at least one or two of these...... My baby calla lilies survived the fucking biblical flood we had in the past days, and I'm talking fucking biblical, so I'm very happy for them.

16 September, 2024

nsfw

When you hear yourself thinking shit like "I'm gonna get everything accomplished today" IMMEDIATELY start doubting yourself and prepare for disaster. When I came home from school I thought "what should I do, workout or work in the garden? I have so much time I could do both ^^" I ended up jacking off for the entire afternoon. Many such cases. Where at the end of the day I feel like an unfortunately conscious zombie. I wonder why I never have the courage to take the leap, even if it would hurt me; why I keep slithering away from pain even though I know I deserve it and I think that it would maybe help me. Some torpor you can't be shaken out of - and when I went outside in the evening, right out the door, the full moon was right in front of me; it's never right outside the door, I usually have to go looking for it further in the garden, but there it was today, like an accusation. Damn. I've been feeling a good bit of religious dread, then I realize that there's no divine punishment, and that me torturing myself endlessly is enough. It's funny because it's just me tormenting myself and being angry at myself and panicking because of myself: it's just me biting my own tail. I can't help it, so it's not really me, but I don't know. It all feels so mundane and pitiful at this point. When I approach DMT, I'll present myself as a good, balanced, whole, worthy person - I won't even be FAKING it, I'll BELIEVE IT earnestly, like I will tomorrow when this day has faded away, like I do when I'm not urgently faced with my own insufficiency: and DMT will spit in my face, drag me into the ground, tear into me, it will rightfully hate me: it will show me all of my faults. And I'll just whine and crawl back defeated, and I won't do anything, because I can't.
I didn't work in the garden, even though it didn't rain today and the ground could have been dry enough - and it will rain again tonight or tomorrow, so I'll have to wait further. Yesterday, I crouched over a zone I had mulched; I found a weird white root out of the ground, and put it aside, idk. Then I noticed two small mushrooms peeking out of the mulch: I was over the fucking moon, because mushrooms are an indicator of good soil. I don't know how the fall garden's gonna be, but that was a good sign. This evening when I somehow gathered the strength to go in the garden, they weren't there anymore. Oh garden, how unlucky you are to be under my care! Guarded by this stupid young shepherd who can't even guide herself. L is at school so me and H have started talking to him again, even though I haven't seen L all summer; I'm glad because I really missed his sense of humor. He's a hardcore gym guy and he likes my biceps, he was impressed and he asked me to show them to him a couple times. He and H said that mine are bigger than V's. I'm proud and I want to do even better, but I didn't work out.

At one point I noticed that it was like half of my visual field was black. It's hard to explain. I noticed I couldn't read words on the right part of my (obviously narrow) phone screen, it was just black and I had to move my eyes every time. I picked up a book, and realized that the problem wasn't in the phone. I was shitting myself, it didn't go away and I had no idea what it was: I feared that naphtha fumes had got to me, that the consequence of my fucking around had got to me. I washed my eyes very much, but it didn't go away. It eventually went away on its own, but it scared me shitless. I thought, oh Ma! Is the gift of good health gone? It is. Although my eyes are okay for now, it is: no, it's never been mine in the first place. When I have these sort of days I don't do anything, I don't move, I don't drink - but through some superhuman strength I managed to eat something, because I know I have to eat. I have to eat because I have to gain weight. I work out, I eat a lot - not junk food, I eat mostly normally and actually quite healthy; I have visible muscle, I sleep okay, I drink an alright amount of water. Let's talk about C. C hasn't eaten properly in a week, she never works out, she looks literally like a fucking twig, her sleep schedule is ass, she never drinks water. We weigh almost the same. There are maybe like, two kilos between us. I can't get over this. I literally can't fucking get over this. Why? Why don't I gain weight? Why doesn't my effort show up on the scale? Why doesn't the number on the scale fucking grow with me? And the scale is accurate, I tested it with my weights. So why? What's wrong? Do I have to keep being weak and skinny? Am I just never gonna grow? Why? What's the problem? What's the fucking deal with that?
Today I had a fever higher than usual. HIGHER THAN USUAL because I keep having this baseline low fever, since like last March. We thought it was because of the cyst, but it can't be that, now that I've gotten it removed. So what the fuck is it? I'm starting to think that it might just be my natural temperature, even though it didn't use to be like this. Maybe it just changed. I HAVE TO think this way, or else I don't fucking know. My mother wants me to get my blood tested again, even though I had two blood tests this summer ( + the dripfeed) and I'm fucking afraid of needles. I'm gonna do it because, whatever. I'm also wondering if I should get tested for insulin resistance: I'm not overweight, but I have PCOS. Yeah, about that: I want to talk to my gyno, but I can't pay 100 euros just to fucking talk to him. I want to ask him if it'll get worse. What if I get diabetes? What if I have to give up carbs? What if I lose my period - I'd go outside at night when the moon is waxing, and cry every single night. It would be a nightmare if it got worse. I wonder if he misdiagnosed me?... I have cysts, yes, but he didn't really test for the rest of the symptoms. It went like this: I laid down on the table, I said that I wondered if I had PCOS, he pulled my pants down and my shirt up, he looked at my hairy fucking everything and he sighed "Yes... you have it". I mean it's a fun story and it makes me kinda proud, but is it really good criteria for diagnosing?? This guy helped my mother give birth to me, so he's certainly experienced, but he's not infallible, is he? I still have cysts. I saw them in the scan during that exam, but they looked just like bullets in my ovaries to me, and I had no idea what a normal ovary looked like. Some days ago I googled ovarian cysts and saw the pictures, and I've been constantly holding my lower stomach ever since. They look... bad. I can't believe I have something so sick inside me, something so engorged and monstrous. It can't be helped. And suddenly, all the physical progress you've made feels like nothing, because sickness is inherent to you. Ummm anyways face reveal do you guys like me 🥰

This is actually me I can't lie. This is how you should perceive me. I LOVE SAE THE TENTH she's so relatable. Like there was this guy on neocities that wrote only about conspiracy theories and how gay people were a psyop and things like that. I never found out if he was trolling or not. He also thought that the anime watamote, the one with the loser girl, was a retelling of his life made to mock him, but he said he still liked it and laughed along with it. Well I'm just saying that if Tohru wanted to write about a barely-alive chronically underweight immature malfunctioning goonette incapable of growth he could have fucking CREDITED ME, COPYRIGHT 2007!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah and about Sae-ism

1) TOHRU DIDN'T TELL US WHEN THE NEW CHAPTER IS COMING OUT I'M JUST SUPPOSED TO GET THROUGH THIS VALE OF TEARS WITHOUT KNOWING WHEN THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN IS GOING TO GRACE ME I CAN'T

2) look, hope always fucks you up etc etc so I'm not meaning to be hopeful but I HAVE HOPE I HAVE HOPE GUYS WE'RE GETTING OUT OF THE FLOP ERA???? WE COULD GET OUT OF THE FLOP ERA???????? OH MY GOD GUYS WE'RE GETTING OUT OF THE FLOP ERA THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES LET'S GO LET'S GET OUT OF THE FLOP ERA????? I LITERALLY SPENT SCHOOL NIGHTS PACING IN MY ROOM BECAUSE I'M SO EXCITED I'M SO PUMPED I'M SO HAPPY THAT WE COULD GET OUT OF THE FLOP ERA, LIKE IT'S LOOKING GOOD, I'M EXPECTING GOOD, I'VE NOT SLEPT OVER THIS. Some days ago before bed I came like three times and I drank chamomile so I was all ready for a beautiful night's sleep but the moment I turned off the lights I had a sudden revelation about Sae's behaviour and I pondered it for a full hour before I accepted that I had to write it down or else I wouldn't sleep, so I wrote about it for another hour and thats just the shitty draft, I have to rewrite it properly and put it with the rest of the analysis, in the future page for volume 14 (I think????) which will be Sae's-computer-themed???? I THINK???? I DON'T KNOW IF IT CAN BE DONE because she canonically uses windows 10. This is her computer, the icons, it's windows 10, I have the same fucking icons. And it's endearing to have a page with like, an iframes of a 90s computer. It'll make people say awwwww and feel nostalgic and the computer is old so it looks weird, like novelty. But everyone has windows 10, it looks boring as fuck I would get SHAT ON if I made a WINDOWS 10-THEMED PAGE. But it sounded nice..... idk I'll see

3) Some days ago I opened the Sae-ism shrine html (and css) files, because I've neglected it for the entirety of august and I should get back to working on it. I came back to it like a soldier coming home to his dutiful wife and as soon as I opened the preview I SCROMED because of how fucking ugly it looks......... I scrumt so fucking loud it looks ugly but I don't know how to fix it, and you know what IT'S OKAY. Ugly is okay, as long has it's got heart into it, this is the small web, and who the fuck is gonna see my shrine about Saefuckingism on cellula.neocities.org

It's past midnight bbbbyeyeyeyeeeee

10 September, 2024

"dopo quella scena in cui hanno trombato in maniera... STRANA!?"
-victorlaszlo in Adrian: Un enorme disastro

Obligatory entry before school starts. So all I have to say is WAAAAAA WAAAAA WAAA (baby crying) I'm going tomorrow, with the backpack that I used to take to the beach, I emptied it from all the pebbles just today, and I wrote to people I haven't heard of in these three months: I'll have to see them again, and I'll have to see that annoying ass ex-friend that I loathe again. I hope that I'll always get enough free time to just do my thing, because I don't think I have anything more to learn from this school. I've always had more than enough free time so far, because I almost NEVER study and I've always gotten by very well, but you never know when a good thing's going to end. Today I was home alone, laying down on the couch, it was about 8:30 PM, the serrande were half-raised, it was slightly chilly and already so dark outside; everything about that scene screamed "autumn", and the remix of Ho Mangiato La Mia Ragazza reappeared out of thin air in my head. Yes, I guess that I was right when I said that I remembered because the temperatures went down: its soundwaves can only travel in cold air. That's the physics of the song. Here, listen to it and you'll understand. So its melody wormed its way into my head, and in it I could see the entirety of the colder months, these grim sisters - September, October, November, December - each one of the cold days that are to come, the school books, the pens, the fog, the drizzle, and Christmas lights in the distance. This will be, uh, a time in my life. Autumn is one of the seasons ever. And winter too. I'll go in them because I have to, but again, I hope for mercy on their part. I don't know how they'll be, I'm scouring through the notes from last autumn and winter to see how I lived. And it's kinda comforting. Last December I was still having some good ass warm sunlit walks, and last January was... special, in a good way; it was magical. So I might fare well again? I hope. I can only hope for now. I also have an excessive amount of onion seeds 😭😭 but nothing's gonna grow anyways. What will it be like to read Sae-ism in cold weather? volume 15 volume 16

At least the rains are coming back too: finally, finally... Whenever there's rain, I go outside to greet it, and I have the primitive fear that if I stop listening to it, monitoring it, it'll stop. The day before yesterday I was laying in bed at night, and I wasn't even trying to sleep because I was too alert listening to the drizzle outside. Then a miracle happened, because the rain really picked up the pace and turned into a real waterbomb; I was giddy, I got up to make me some chamomile and I sat with my tits out with the big window open behind me. Just by hearing the rain pour down I could feel it running along my back, and I got a shiver of pure pleasure from that; like when I look at the other girls in my class doing each other's hair, and I remember how it was to get my hair touched. Sadly the only friend who likes physical contact half as much as me is S. I got up at 6 AM because I had to change period underwear; I went outside hauling a bucket of the night's blood, and I could see the earth had liked the rain, too, because the ground was all happy and dark: contented. I gave some buckets to our rosemary: in a corner of the garden, we have some bushes of the sturdiest strongest greenest rosemary ever. Soon we'll throw out all the herbs that are currently in the ground and buy new ones to put in containers, as per my mother's wishes: only the rosemary will stay where it is, because it's way too big and strong to kill. So I've decided to honor her with this gift, and also because I want to try out a rosemary rinse for my hair, it sounds good. I'd love to make thyme syrup. And I wonder what hyssop is good for?

Fuck it, round two with water-soluble powder. This time I'm calculating dosage properly. Oh and Zippo lighter fluid passed the evap test!!! At least this can?? Because idk if it changes from can to can?? But whatever. Now I think I need lye (and I'm sorta scared, I hope nothing bad happens). But first I can try to smoke... whatever the fuck the IPA tek gave me. But today at some point I stopped in my tracks and didn't feel like working in the slightest. Truth be told, I've been working and doing stuff very much lately??? So I need and deserve a break. In floptok there used to be this video of an animated black baby, animated in the style of those good morning videos people used to send to each other, sitting by a pool or on the beach (?) with some leaves fanning her, and she said something like "girl you've been working too hard... Take. A. Break!" shaking her finger while she said the last three words. I can't find it anymore. Today I listened to the baby, and I laid down on the hammock with figs from my grandma's friend's tree. I was there watching victorlaszlo's review of Adrian: La Serie Evento chilling and then I turned around and saw a big ass wasp on the figs 😭😭😭I SCRUMT SO FUCKING LOUD and I ran away with the figs and ate them on the ground crouched over like a goblin.

Tigota, despite having a shitty awful fucking commercial jingle that I fucking hate, really goes hard as fuck on its in-store radio. I still remember when I went there some time ago and while dragging the dingy shopping cart across the floor I listened enraptured to a dark, obsessive woman's voice chanting over and over "Triste, annoiata e asciutta, sarei la tua Venere storpia". I hanged onto those words, fighting to remember them so that I could search them once I went home. I was surprised to see that it was Carmen Consoli: she's famous, and I had no idea she made music like this. Last time I went there, various days ago, there was another song kinda like that? The "sad italian woman" genre???? And she sang with a voice laden with grief: "Devo ripetermi che non sono l'unica, non sono l'unica." In reality I just found it right now, google search wasn't yielding anything until today. Listening to it, paralyzed while holding a shopping cart under the cold, clinical lights on the ceiling. Tigota has really good music.

So I've been really angry at people just for having sex and dating *crowd cheers and breaks into a standing ovation* and I've been viscerally hating all songs about sex *crowd cheers and claps even more* in fact I want to strangle charli xcx. *crowd goes wild, someone throws a bra onstage* Is it because I'm a bitter, joyless, jealous virgin? Yes. I say it without an ounce of shame because I feel like at this point having spent the vast majority of my life constantly dealing with hypersexuality I've earned the right to be as bitchy as I want. Now, I don't SHOW it outright like this, like, I'm pissy with C because she fucks a really creepy 20-something year old guy who has feet and piss fetishes and whom she barely knows, not just because she fucks; but I'm like that in general. Like the gif of that asian girl completely covered in blood just fucking murdering people in a hallway and screaming "STOP HAVING SEX! FILTHY FUCKERS!" For me it's a better coping mechanism than [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] and at this point I think I deserve to be as bitter as I want. Yeah I hate people simply for having sex, and? Last February on my seventeenth birthday the hypersexuality genie came down from the sky in my house to see how I was doing and he checked my stats, he gave me the "Survived So Far" and "Half-Sane" awards, then he saw that I still have the Virginity curse stat, so he felt bad and decided to give me a power-up badge that says "I'm Allowed To Be As Bitchy And Hysterical As I Want About Sex". Yes he did, but it's on my other account so you can't see it, my dad works at Hypersexuality Inc. and he's gonna ban you if you don't believe me.

I'm gonna try to sleep it's almost midnight I HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW bbbbbbyyyyeeeeee but first look at this artwork please (nsfw but not as in sex) it's by a guy named Kashmir apparently and IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD because it was lost media until about like a few months ago, and it's just an absolute fucking vibe, and we really need more art of women castrating men, not as in kink stuff but because we need to make men insecure about their fragile dicks. All the rape scenes on tv and in books are basically emotional war waged against the women in the audience at home, we need to replace them entirely with this sort of stuff. Men already have castration anxiety, we just need to make it justified and real. Dreams can come true, come on ladies let's make some art ❤

Also look this bird

9 September, 2024

Bolts and screws, let it all undo / There's no going back to you / Let it all unravel, and dance in the strings, until I can't feel a thing
Bolts and screws, let it all undo / There's no going back, we're through / Let it all unravel, and dance in the strings, until I can't feel a thing

"Man, I can't deal with mourning at the carcass of my failures any longer". I am currently being consumed by misery and frustration 👍 because everything I do and everything I've ever done in my life either takes an enormous amount of time and effort or just doesn't work. This time it's both at the same time. These are just the days where a massive amount of misery is raining down on me, and it's fucking POURING, and I'm also receiving the rain directly on my head because I'm standing right at the top of the mountain of the cumulative failures of all my life. My biggest complaint in life has been: it doesn't work. The complaint I've had the most, in my entire life. Just a few months ago I was wondering where my breaking point was; I was just going on and on and it was unbearable, and I've had many such moments, but I never seem to completely break down like I think would liberate me somewhat. I lay down in bed moving like a centipede and letting the misery consume me, then I get up and eat lunch with a smile on my face. How? When am I going to just snap? I'm sounding very much christian right now heh? Waiting for the Day of Deliverance. Just somehow the end of this, a breaking point.

HEY SO I WAS PLANNING TO WRITE A WHOLE ASS SELF-LOATHING INADEQUACY INFERIORITY RANT ON HERE, BUT I THINK I'M GONNA LIE DOWN BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF THE TINCTURE I TOOK HOURS AGO, THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO WORK SUVLINGUALLY, IS HITTING NOW. I HOPE ITS JUST PLACEBO BECAUSE FUCKFUCKFUCK UHMMM ANYWAYS I'M ON MY PERIOD AND FAMILY KNOWS I'M SICK SO IF I ACTUALLY GET HIGH I COULD POTEMTIALLY GET AWAY WITH IT, WITH THE EXCUSE THAT I'M SICK. I HOPE ITS PLACEBO I HOPE ITS PLACEBO I just took a shit ton of cbd I just gulped it straight down with oil I HOPE ITS PLACEBO, AND WISH ME LUCK PLEASE.

6 September, 2024

"She may not be able to feel wretched, helpless, alone, and abhorred, "apparently united by no link to any other being in existence"."
-Mary Daly

You know that scene in The Count of Montecristo movie, the old one - idk how many have been made - that scene where the guy's in this empty rough prison cell, and he spends days carving the words GOD WILL GIVE ME JUSTICE on the wall, and when he's done he just collapses in front of it gasping and staring wide-eyed at nothing? That's how I feel right now. Absolutely to be dramatic 🥰 Today I watched a tincture dance at the bottom of a small glass jar. It was something to behold. The orange extract was wonderfully reflective, and it twisted and turned fluidly, it spiraled and labrys-ed, it whirled like a dervish, it split like a cell and all of its ever-dividing specks joined the dance, while one perfectly round glob of substance remained undivided - but spiraling too. This inert, mindless thing perfectly knows how to dance the ecstatic dance of life. Consciousness must be an evolutionary mistake. I created this thing, I was there to greet it when it began existing, I mothered it, yet it continues to elude me and cause me so much pain. It is way younger than me. It is two-days old, it has no brain, it has no living functions. Yet it knows the spiral of life, and dances it effortlessly. And it defies me, when all I've done is love it so much and go out of my way for it. And I don't dance unless I'm drunk. It feels gnarly to just try and try and try and try again and to just keep banging your head against the wall. I am so fucking inferior to any of my peers. I just go in circles, I am malfunctioning, I am something that's entertaining to talk about at max. Naphtha recrystallization didn't work. I am physically and mentally castrated, and sometimes it seems like it's meant to be this way and will keep being so. Maybe all this wonderful inspiring stuff that I've been living and feeling in the past year or so, like generally the drive and vision and motivation and not wanting to kill myself and genuinely wanting to thrive and actually acting in order to thrive and all that, is just a temporary detour in my life path, and I'm just meant to stay in my room for all of my lifespan, jacking off and staring at the door in paranoia all the time. "GOD WILL GIVE ME JUSTICE" -someone who's outside the embrace of divinity. If I'm not meant to be yours, what will you make of me?

(↑by Nina Paley)

I'm okay i just need
1) zippo lighter fluid to pass the evap test
2) to get lye
I just need this just this hahaha I'm okay I just need this pleasepleaswplease

I'll just stay in my room tonight. The remix of Ho Mangiato La Mia Ragazza popped up in my head randomly. It has been one of my favourite songs of all time but I'd forgotten about it momentarily, probably because of the summer. This is a cold song, it's a song from the sidereal, ice-cold reaches of space; lately it's been colder, I've even had to wear a shirt in the house, so maybe that's why it came back to mind. I regarded this song as a panacea. I thought it could heal any sort of worry. I don't know if it's true right now. Maybe I've unlearned how to be contented, and I'm always wanting more, always impatient, and maybe that's precisely why I'm suffering right now? I don't really care. I'm physically and mentally castrated. Oh but my clit is fine right now tho. The night of the fourth I just thought I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm devastated. I woke up and it had stopped hurting completely, that's weird. Maybe those new age people that say uhhh like visualize the organ organing have a point. But yeah either way in shitty days like this one it just seems like that divinely-ordained suffering I talked about is just getting rubbed in your face. I KNOW IT'S NOT ACTUALLY DIVINELY ORDAINED just let me be dramatic okayyyyyyy????

It's just very frustrating and made all the more frustrating by the fact that I have people on the other side of the glass, waiting.

It's funny how even though I don't seek death or even sickness anymore, I'm still hunted by the hounds of ill-health. I've read about untreated PCOS being a life-threatening disaster that poses high risk of diabetes and uterine cancer. I MEAN my periods have been regular so far so like maybe not uterine cancer please ❤ but like ovulation and I don't fucking know. Uhmmm. I should see my gyno again because like maybe it's like when you google I have a cold and google tells you you have 2 days to live. But like what do I do I go to him (yes it's a male gyno I know but I didn't choose it) and say hey bestie I just wanted to chat and to know whether I'll be on my deathbed at age 60 or not but whatever it is I don't want any medication you give me ^^ But maybe I'll be forced to stop being so hardheaded, and I'll just have to take meds? I wonder what I'd do if he said yeah you're gonna get fucking diabetes. Maybe I'll give in or maybe I won't. AND ITS FUNNY BECAUSE if my 15 year old self saw me being scared of dying at 60 she'd bully the fuck out of me, she'd wonder what had become of me, how I could become so weak and unwilling to seek or even just embrace death. Even after all this time, Palazzeschi remains right: those who have the courage to die own the world, and their life completely; like those who have the courage to laugh. What did he say again? M'inchino a chi ha il coraggio di morire...

this entry wont showup onthepage *dies aesthetically* b

4 September, 2024

nsfw

me after two weeks without a new Sae-ism chapter

I'm all crankly (as in I do crank when you pick me up, as in I'm physically unwell). My back hurts so fucking much :/ maybe it's because I worked so much in the garden lately, but I don't know. My clit hurts so fucking much ://// like it kinda worries me because it hurts quite a lot. It's like she's trying to tell me that if I jack off one more time she's gonna fall off and tell me to go fuck myself. So I CAN'T jack off, and it's hard because how am I supposed to handle making plans with S??? "so are we going out tomorrow or on saturday" "idk we'll see tomorrow" girl my bus ride takes two fucking hours, what if we have to cancel the plan while I'm on the bus(es)????? And like today I was on zlibrary and there was this fucking captcha THAT I COULDN'T SOLVE and it pissed me off so fucking much. Again I'm kinda worried because it's been like a day or two days. And I'm just like, sorry. But all the sorrow I've ever felt won't make me change my ways because it's just not possible. "I can't let this shit physically harm me" "I have to take better care of myself" my ass. "It's really fucking tragic to see that / Thrill-hurting yourself in such a manner / since you obviously get thrills cheating / but in truth cheating yourself".

It's hard to NOT believe that this particular suffering, in this particular area of my life, is not divinely ordained, because it's such a thorough, permanent, perfect suffering. In just that area. The heartbreak is so much sometimes, but then the last fragrant blooms of the oleander greet me, and music from the cricket's concert rises from the grass. But it makes more sense to interpret it as: even though the last fragrant blooms of the oleander greet me, and music from the cricket's concert rises from the grass, they can't heal me in the way I need; they can heal pain from a dead soil, or pain from doubt, but they can't heal this pain, Palazzeschi's king's pain: I can always turn around and tell them "Ma io... No! Nulla è per me, il deserto è nel mio cuore, la tortura più infame è nei miei sensi, io sono il Re, intendi?" Another one of his paragraphs that is seared into my brain and that I know by heart. I found Palazzeschi and Faust'o with me on a desert island. If I relate to Faust'o when he sings about his broken cock, I should also try to take these other words of his as advice:
"Lascia che la gente muoia
Non m'importa più di loro
Voglio solo riposare."

I can't bend at all, but I still do it for my darlings. A very sensitive time indeed; I'm trying out a lot of things. So DMT smells like... old man candy? Tomorrow I'll see the weight. I'm worried about the yield which seems kinda shoddy, just eyeballing: but it was only a test amount of Mimosa. I also wonder if it's possible to recrystallize with naphtha, and what the yield will be like then. A lot of things... I've been very busy... Wonder why IPA with zeo tek always takes on this wonderful, wonderful! honey golden color. Since it's zeo tek it should be pink, D8! Does it mean it's mostly D9? How's that possible? Am I THAT lucky? She loves me... she loves me not... she loves me... she loves me not... She loves me, she loves me, she loves me!!! The lady loves me and it shows... I was right that I'd always associate the smell of isopropyl to Alfred's Playhouse. Yes, the final scene, and those June days right after my surgery when I couldn't bend over to pick up the evaporation tray so I'd ask my sister to do it for me... and don't get me started on the July nights, I could cry... It was a good summer. I have a ton of things to read. Suggestion: instead of bingeshopping, download a bunch of pirated ebooks that you want, get excited as you see them all laid out, skim through them, and realize that they aren't exactly what you want to read right now. It's sorta similar but there's no waste of money involved. I want to get into herbalism. These extractions fit the bill for me, since it's me making things - medicine, even - by myself.
A lot of things, a lot of variables, a lot of paths to both success and failure... in every, every conceivable way... possibilities beyond imagination, on all sides... I can do it as long as I keep my cool, right? Even if I fail. This is my personal, unique path. I know I'm not gonna go back either way, no matter how heartbroken I feel. Oh Mother! support me as I've chosen to go down your path! No matter how much I'm torn apart, I will not regret this, and I will dance every step.

The unspeakable pain of realizing "I will never be a child anymore" and the unspeakable relief of realizing "I will never be a child anymore". Everything that I'm seeking to escape from was worse in my childhood, and I want to get as far away from it as possible, but. I went rewatching some videos of a sub-drama of a sub-drama of an internet zoomer drama from over a year ago, and there was this song that sounded like it had been woven from all the mellowest feelings of childhood, and I genuinely cried for the first time in, what? five months? I had forgotten what it felt like to cry, the stuffy nose, the chalky throat, the red eyes; there was even this taste/smell when I blew my nose that reminded me of chamomile somewhat, and that only made me cry harder. I don't even know what to say. The moderate solution, the right solution, is to keep myself always connected to motherhood somehow. This time on the opposite side: I have to become strong and able to take care of others.

Touching grass is not enough for some people, they need to taste the spicy-sweet flavour of a homegrown carrot.

And at this crossroad (Trivia), in this dangerous precipice I can't help but pray. Oh Goddess, oh Goddess, help me make the switch, help me pass through, and help me live afterwards; lend me a hand, make your most beloved children smile at me, make my solution filter nicely, give me hope as I watch the last layer of solvent evaporate. I remember that as a kid, I bought a bulb of some kind, tiger-something? idk, it was a black and white flower. I planted it, and I'd water it everyday, but it wouldn't grow. I lost hope eventually but I kept watering it. Then one day, as I was carrying the watering can to the spot, I saw that it had sprung out of the earth, dark green in the shadow: and I felt the full power of hope, and of Nature, and of persistence, surge through my blood. I have to be that pious again.

31 August, 2024

end of august :(

chettepiassencolpo (italian magic spell to ward off misfortune, use it to clear obstacles in your life path)

Lately I've been alternating between thinking that I'm moving through life more and more gracefully, coming more and more into power and becoming a better version of myself etc etc, and thinking that I'm a walking disaster and that everything I do is a massive failure. I swing so violently, I think, because this is a very sensitive time for me. I'm planting a lot of seeds metaphorically and waiting to see if they sprout or if I can even harvest them metaphorically.
Fall garden is going to be a massive failure. Spring garden too probably, but the fall garden is going to be such a massive failure that it'll send me on my ass and make me retreat to my gooncave for weeks. I'm still working on prepping the soil; my mom has given me the green light to clear and plant another zone, and to expand another zone, so I have a lot of work to do. A lot of digging.... in clay...... The soil is just too hard and compacted. I don't even know if I'll be able to fix it, and if all these backbreaking efforts are completely useless. Yesterday I was miserable as I worked. It's my fault for tying my heart to a piece of land, and for believing it to be the most right, most noble thing to do, when I don't have a body strong enough to take care of it, I don't have a brain smart enough to heal it, I don't have enough life in or around me to sustain it. I got the true historical italian farmer experience, bestemmiando fortissimo while manually working shitty soil for my fava beans, only thing that was missing was the cinghiali. And one thing that didn't fit the vibes was my neighbor loudly playing and singing dad rock music. Like dude I get it you're KNAWK KNAWK KNAWKING ON HEAVEN'S DAAAAWAWWAAWRRRRR now close the fucking window.

A lot of mulch that I don't have.... When leaves start falling I'll pick up every one on public sidewalks. A lot of compost that I don't have.... Some days ago I went to my grandmother's to take her compost: she doesn't use it because she thinks it's worthless: worthless. I opened the bottom of her bin and found a bunch of the darkest, crumbliest compost I have ever seen in my life. I audibly gasped. Worthless... I took it all in buckets, along with some of her dead tomato plants for mulch. She kept saying things along the lines of "why are you taking this shit!!!! what are you even gonna do with it!!" and she emptied a random old pot because she thought it would be better than that compost?..... and some already sprouted bulbs rolled out. She said lol those are calla lilies take them. They were already sprouted so I just did. It turns out everyone in my family except for me thinks calla lilies are ugly 😭 I planted them in the first sheet mulch zone, to see how they do and if they'll live. I think it's improbable, but since I wasn't planning to have them in the garden, I'm just gonna use them as guinea pigs for now: if they bloom it's cool tho. They most likely won't survive 😀 but it's okay. We also took down the jujube, but I don't know if new life is coming to replace all this death. Inula Viscosa, my beautiful sister, is beginning to bloom just now. She has surrounded me all my life, but only when I was reborn did I learn her name, and I also started to rub her leaves whenever I saw her, to get her scent on my hands. I've kept an eye on her, watching as she started to bolt: I'm glad that my sister has withstood the summer, and that she's thriving and blooming, celebrating merciful autumn; merciful anywhere that's not my dead garden. The fall garden is going to suck so hard, like me, and it's going to make me miserable.

From Monday on, I'll get fucking busy. I cancelled every plan for a few days, and maybe they won't even be enough... I'm trying to do a massive thing... trying to approach DMT!!!!!! I don't know if it'll work. But I'm gonna try. AND SEE HOW IT GOES!!!!!

I need to take better care of myself. Like I'm fucking impulsive and stupid and desperate. I can't let this shit physically harm me. I have to keep in mind that nothing else matters other than taking care of myself.

About the shrine I have no fucking idea how to make the page for volumes 1-4, because I have no fucking idea how to translate to web design the ineffable unique 2000s edgy angsty echoing feeling of traversing the deep dark caves of Sae-ism volumes 1-4. I have no idea how to transpose into a webpage what it makes me feel. I'm at a standstill about this but I gotta unlock myself because I have to make that tribute, a worthy tribute. It's a feeling I'm not able to capture. It's in the way the fast-moving shadow of a passing bus blended with my slow-moving shadow on the wall under the streetlights last night in an empty road. It's in an almost-lost-media eroguro artwork's artist being discovered at a twenty-years distance. It's in a darkwave song sitting at the bottom of your playlist for years by a band that only made one album, got 30 listens and disappeared forever. I have no clue how to capture it and put it in a webpage or even just in any graphic format. It's definitely gotta be like an edgy 2000s aesthetic... and?... I might have to settle for a simple thing like that.

I have wisdom teeth......

27 August, 2024

Now... I'm not saying this is true, because I'm skeptical. But do you know that the girl I was an asshole to, the other day, could have not heard me? Yesterday she reached out again, and wrote in the group chat she had with me and C. I certainly wouldn't reach out again, if I had heard someone talk about me the way I talked about her. So maybe she simply didn't hear me??? I'm skeptical because she was sitting two seats behind us and the bus was pretty quiet... but then why would she text us again?? Maybe she's desperate? Idk, it's all very weird. Look. If she actually didn't hear me, I am the luckiest motherfucker in the entire planet. Luck is in love with me... Così m'ama la donna mia!!

Regardless of how I want it, autumn should come. My body is giving up because of the heat, yesterday I was about to puke just from walking up the same old hill under the sun. I've almost never felt sick this summer; it's probably also because of the stress, because this week will suck. The switch will be weird, though. The passage between summer and autumn has always felt overwhelmingly melancholic for me, an aspect that I once liked; I used to live in and on melancholy: now I can't handle it anymore. It feels like a fire wall that I'll have to cross without turning to mush in the process. I can only hope for the best. Today it rained, and I went outside to further chop the portulaca stems I laid down as mulch, as an excuse to stay under the drizzle. Every creature is rejoicing at the first rains after the summer: how can I think not to participate? I was over my sheet mulch, where I saw EARTHWORM. He was crawling below the chopped tomato stems. I audibly gasped because... earthworm!! Even with all the digging I've done, I've never seen one in my shitty clay. ONE is there. At least ONE. It's like to celebrate my rebirth I threw a huge party with an all-you-can-eat buffet for the soil critters, and if no one shows up, it will be like when no one comes to your birthday party as a child, and I will be devastated. I lifted the mulch around in some places to see how the soil was, and in one place I found a big ass spider with a white ball hanging from her ass (?). At least there are some guys here. I refused to use potting soil in some places: now I regret not doing so. I thought it was "cheating"... wtf?? There's no "cheating", my one job as a gardener is making the soil critters happy, and if they like potting soil, I have to use that shit. How would they even move in my shitty clay, even after I've decompacted it??? I think that when the earth dries up, I'm gonna dig again and put more compost and actual soil.

Still sad about summer going away :( my regrets this summer are not eating fried fish, and not going snorkeling until now. On Sunday I took my hardshell for a ride, borrowed a mask and a snorkel, and got reminded of why this is my favourite beach ever. I tend to criticize other beaches as being "not real sea"; what I really mean is that the sea there is not alive. The floor is flat and bland-looking, there are two species of fish at best. On my beach, it was all ALIVE; I couldn't believe that this is where I swim so often, that I share these waters with so many creatures and I don't even notice. In the place where the shallow rocks give way to the ample, clear, deep, thoughtful brow of the sea, I kept finding so fishes swimming all together, cefali, occhiate - the sacred occhiate, and I've shared these waters with so many of them and I didn't even know! All swimming so close to me that if I went just a little bit lower, and and stretched my arms out, I would have touched them. I saw some species I had no idea lived here - four mormore with their funny stretched mouths, and some rhombus-looking grey striped ones who ate among the rocks. We all ate today: così c'ama la donna nostra! Those rocks were the fishes' cathedral... It couldn't have been otherwise, with them towering over the ocean floor, with the rays of light streaming from above the surface... Watching them eat made me almost cry. I can hear those women's voices from the throat of every creature: così m'ama la donna mia. I can hear them in the fishes that have just found a meal, in the seagulls' outstretched wings as they fly over my head, and in the dark majestic cormorano as she dries her wings and basks in the sun after a hunt, in the roots of my long-dead bagolaro as I wash and brush them. I've had that song stuck in my head nearly every moment, every day. I think I truly found religious music?...

I love being a woman. (well, not yet: a girl) I think that being a woman is one of the biggest graces that was bestowed upon me, by pure chance. One has to cherish these graces above all: being alive, being healthy, being a woman... Saying that we're Nature's favourite creature would be a little arrogant, but she really did show all her love and wisdom when making us. And I am one. Così m'ama la donna mia! It's a great gift to be this attuned to nature; I look up at the moon, see that she's waning and know that when she's growing again, I will be bleeding. Then I look at the sea I am paddling through, and I know that she sustained all life on earth in her womb in the beginning of the world, and that she keeps doing it; she's my grandmother in the same way that the earth is my mother. The sea is getting rough and toying with my kayak, but since I am a woman like her, I don't feel threatened: all I see is the ocean rocking me like a child, and friendly pushing me like a rival. Since I am a woman like her, I shout my challenge back at her and keep pushing through until I'm sore and seasick; I push through to see my mountain, who's also a woman, because she sheds her skin in the winter and grows it back in spring; because the firm stone foundation of all ever-changing life is, has always been, must be, woman. I become more grateful and graceful the more I embrace, explore, understand, hug tight femaleness, and the more I laugh at and spit on femininity. I should invent a ritual of sorts for when I get my period, to celebrate. Since I have PCOS I am aware that it's a gift that might or might not be renewed every month - so far it's always been regular, but I'm still a little afraid and I have to cherish it. It's a relief that no matter how much I desecrate myself, no matter how much I stray from my path, I always have this string around me that gets tugged once a month, remininding me that I am Nature's child, guiding me back.

My grandmother gave me a whole bag of peas for sowing. I had already bought peas for sowing so I was kinda "ok???", then I thought: well the more peas the better, because I love peas, and the variety is named Dark Skin Perfection which sounds lowkey sexy; then I took a good look at the package, and I read that they expired in 2021 😭 I was counting on them at that point... I could still try

I love Sae-ism I wish domestic violence was real... Just a few weeks ago I wanted to kill myself because Tohru started writing Yuki's arc, and I wanted to tell him that he kept bleeding from his ass because it was punishment from god for writing about this dumbass kid that no one cares about. But now I'd die for her. I wrote that my complaint was that she was boring and she never did anything, and that she's in Sae-ism and she should act like it, then in the next chapter she casually threatened suicide in a public bar. So I guess my wishes got fulfilled?? Now she's my daughter and I actually have high hopes for her arc. I mean I don't even know why I hated her, she had like 15 panels screen time 😭😭😭 PAST ME GIVE HER TIME... I think it's funny how in the first drafts Tohru draws everyone as identical hairless blobs (except Misao because her only defining characteristic in general is her hair) (sorry babe) but you can still recognize Yuki because she has that signature expression, she looks like 30 years from now she will be hauling cabbages on a wheelbarrow on a Polish farm in the snow, which is great, I want her to grow big and strong, I want to see her WIN but I don't really want her to kill Tendo because he's iconic.......... At the VERY least he has to come out before he gets killed. Now THIS arc looks like it will be good BUT I'm kinda bummed that the main OG cast is getting shat on a little bit. Like... Kai getting lumped in with the main cast??? NO WHAT THE FUCK?????? KILL IT WITH FIRE I'm grateful that Kai is in the story because it's fun to talk shit about him and bully him, but don't fucking touch the main cast with your grimy little bowlcut okay.... And I'm gonna say it I DON'T LIKE WHAT'S GOING ON WITH MISAO OKAY.... 😭 theyshouldfuck

25 August, 2024

I won't fall asleep until I write this down... Today I was such a massive asshole. I was such a textbook case of asshole. I did such a mean fucking thing, I've never seen an episode of Mean Girls but if it's about mean girls then it looked like something straight out of Mean Girls 😭😭😭 and I was the mean girl. Basically, C had insisted to go out with another girl I (barely) know and that I find annoying. I didn't want to go but I obliged. We were on the bus on the way to this meetup, and we, mostly I though!!!, couldn't stop shittalking her. I kept saying how annoying she was and shit... I made impressions......... I talked all sorts of shit, I was terrible. Towards the end of the ride, I jokingly said: "lol imagine if she was right behind us the whole time!!!" I turn around. Look around. Who's sitting two fucking seats behind us? IT SOUNDS FAKE BECAUSE IT'S SUCH A FUCKING CLICHE, BUT IT HAPPENED TO ME. I saw her and I turned quiet, I looked at C and we started whispering, I said it's her, C was CACKLING, she said you can't be for real. I was NOT laughing, I asked C to hold my hand, I laid down on her shoulder, I felt fucking AWFUL, C kept cackling, she said "I've never seen you like this before", and we've known each other for about 10 years now. Whispering we agreed to get off the bus asap and we did, but the girl got down a few stops after us, and still reached us. We had to spend two hours with her. She acted like nothing had happened at all??? but I'm pretty sure she heard us. Two hours. It was a near-death experience. I felt so fucking bad. First thing we did was accompany her to get bubble tea, and I swear I was so afraid that she was going to buy the tea only to spill it all over me in revenge. I would have deserved it, yes. I know I was such a massive asshole, mostly because she didn't deserve it. She's not a bad person at all, she's simply annoying, nothing more. I was such a gigantic dickhead today and I can only hope she forgets and moves on soon. I'm truly very, very sorry, even though I know this won't change anything. If I learned anything: I'M GONNA WATCH MY FUCKING MOUTH FROM NOW ON. I won't talk shit unless strictly necessary EVER again. I'm gonna become a fucking saint. I'm never doing this shit again, I swear. I'm not usually this kind of an asshole, only very very rarely. I can't do anything to fix this, I can only let it become a lesson.

Okay now onto the non-asshole stuff.

Yes, this week will be that bad.
Yesterday night I was searching for a Daly quote for my review on Sae-ism volume 9 (listen.......) and the words of a folk song sung by neapolitan witches as they went to the sea to kill themselves made me realize I haven't cried in a long long time; it would maybe do me good to go behind the abandoned house, among the reeds, and give my tears as an offering. Like ok I changed my mind I don't need to move out and fill the house with cigarette ashes and dead vibrator batteries, I need to go down the mountain to the sea and walk in the pine woods under the moon. I was about to cry.

Allu mari mi portati / se voleti che mi sanati / Allu mari, alla via / Così m'ama la donna mia"

Così m'ama la donna mia. Can someone as diseased as me really say that? How strange would it be for a deformed sapling to sing hymns of praise to its creator? That's something I wonder about a lot. But if I'm alive right now, if I'm being sustained, if I'm growing somewhat, even if I'm just surviving, I guess that I have no choice: mentre campo, t'aggio amari? The cycle goes: I forget about folk music, I find a folk song that makes me fucking bawl my eyes out, repeat. The last one was Lord Randal. I need to go on a pilgrimage alone to the sea, to that beach I know where the water is crystal clear, I need to stay there for a month, but summer is about to end. Allu mari mi portati / se voleti che mi sanati. (disclaimer: I am not from southern italy)

Così m'ama la donna mia.

23 August, 2024

This week has been great actually. Way less stress, see there's not even a nsfw warning!!! I have a five day notjackingoff streak. Me and C made a woman smile from across the bar. I picked up a pipe and lit it for the setting sun. I unintentionally dug up some dead roots of my bagolaro, the tree from my childhood that we had to cut down - I was digging near to her stump, and it could only be her. I'm gonna clean and store them, so I can always have her with me even once I move out from this house. I whipped up some yopo tea (no not drinking that shit, it's the first step to the IPA extraction) and my mom almost came home while the smell was still unbearable, so I desperately sprayed mosquito spray everywhere at the last minute, and still left stains on the pot. Leaf mulch seems to treat my soil well. Got carob seeds in the mail. There's my name on the intercom now. That package from Slovenia that created massive issues?? I PICKED IT UP TODAY!!! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! I expected like... yknow... free stuff for the one-month delay and almost stolen money..... but no big deal.......... But I'm gonna have to wait to extract. That's the problem. Next week is probably gonna be bad again, like the last one. I'm pondering how I should spend tomorrow. I have to cut down our jujube tree, because she has never fruited in all these years. Maybe she's self-sterile. I'm thinking about a good apology ritual. She's a tree and deserves respect. I hope her thorns aren't a very big bother. If they aren't, I'm gonna lay her down there as mulch. I could really use that growing space. This week has been very busy; what I mean by "waiting" in the abt me page is not sitting-on-my-ass waiting, but a running-around-prepping, setting stuff up, bringing that over there, and that over here, waiting to see if something great can come along, waiting to see how it will look like in the big picture, waiting for my efforts to be rewarded, waiting to reap what I'm sowing; it's a hopeful sort of waiting. I wonder if next week will be that bad.

I might have to stop the bufotenine extraction because I don't know if condensing the basified solution could lead to more staining in the pot, but I'm kinda giddy right now because I might have found a doable DXM extraction. Sure, ordering robotabs would be better but I've always put that off because I wouldn't know where to get them delivered. But I wanna see him again. DXM, my first love. My first ever trip from my desperate junkie teenager era; I've outgrown it, I've become much more refined, I have access to much more stuff now, but I still wanna see my first love again. It's true that you always keep chasing that first-time magic. DXM just feels special, playful, out-of-the-box, non-rigid, non-serious, but not at all non-powerful. He isn't surrounded by wings of praise-singing gurus, but he's very much capable of burning through the ceiling he leaves you staring at, and bring you into outer space to ponder the blue movements of stars and planets. A guy described the dextroverse as "it's like going online mentally", and that makes me smile with how accurate of a description it is, and how tender it makes me feel. I want to go back to him to tell him: even though I have a bunch more stuff now, I've still missed you, and I've come back for you!! Look at how much I've grown since I last saw you. Let's talk, maybe walk together in the bowels of the mountain like last time, or on the bicycle path. DXM is the big brother molecule. An older brother or cousin who's very eccentric and likes to show you magic tricks, and he confuses you a lot, but he doesn't mean to scare you, it's all just a joke. What a funny little guy. I miss him. Is sodium carbonate enough for him?

Look I'm just gonna put this here because the shrine is far from finished, and my hopes could get demolished by the upcoming chapters so I'm gonna Saeismpost in the journal again before they do... like when I wanted to read the """lost media""" chapter that I ended up finding on twitter and that sucked ass. SORRY FOR SAEISMPOSTING 😔 IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. Okay I'm gonna go ahead
I'm starting to like Yuki because she's a weird kid with immaculate drip and suicidal tendencies and extremely formal behavior and a shitload of money. I'm seeing she's embracing daddy issues, cool!! She had the "kill you!!" shirt this time TOHRU. TOHRU YOU COULD DO THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE HISTORY OF SAE-ISM. ADD A FEW MORE LETTERS. GIVE HER THE "KILL YOURSELF" SHIRT. IT WILL MAKE EVERYTHING WORTH IT. She could also be interesting in the future, with the dynamic she has with Sae, because they have some similarities: they're both very father-identified, as in they get their entire sense of self from their fathers, and their bond with their fathers is the only one they have had for the majority of their life (whether real or imagined, because Yuki's father didn't do jack shit for her), and they both have never met their mother. Their fathers get killed by mysterious people and they leave everything in order to avenge them, even though they were extremely shitty people that did them wrong personally.... hmmmm... I mean the material is THERE.... is it gonna get worked on?... I mean this might be the reason for Sae's weird sympathy for Yuki. Maybe she senses their similarity at least subconsciously. She's really caring towards her like volume 12 (eww) Yuki literally tells Sae "a random guy who's also our enemy told me that he has psychic clairvoyant powers and that my dad is going to die if he keeps being your bodyguard..... can you discharge him even tho he's extremely skilled" and Sae, extremely violent, manipulative, intelligent and cruel, tells her "omg of course pookie bear!!!" HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPLAIN THIS AMOUNT OF LENIENCE AND BENEVOLENCE this scene is also apparently completely useless because Yuki's father fucking dies in the next scene??? So yeah it's probably because Sae herself acknowledges their similarity, and can understand what it's like to lose the only close relative you have and the only bond of affection you have. WHY DID I ONLY REALIZE THIS NOW 😭😭😭 And there's also like the weird stuff about Sae calling her "second cutest in the world" with the first obviously being Misao, but Sae obviously doesn't want to fuck Yuki or see her suffer. Still she draws this weird parallel between the two. Why?? I'd have to mull that over, but honestly I don't think there's enough material to work on yet. Maybe it's because what Sae likes in both of them is their similarity to her, thus confirming my theories on Sae's self-identification with Misao (WOOHOOOOO??). And maybe Sae simply uses the term at random because she's still extremely immature emotionally, due to not being allowed to develop a personality and critical thinking in her formative years. Or maybe she just likes naive and obedient people, but Yuki doesn't really fit that descriptor very well; the fact itself that she dared to make that absurd and frankly quite risky request shows that she's anything but.

I've had the panel at the end of their interaction open for like 30 fucking minutes alternating staring at it, writing this shit, thinking, pacing around the living room in the dead of night, looking from the peephole like the fucking Sae-ism assassin (the assassin who only kills Sae-ism fans) is coming for me. Am I even supposed to think this hard or is it actually not that deep. Am I stupid, for refusing to believe that it's stupid????

I wonder if Tohru's gonna whip up something like Sae the sixth and Tazuru with Sae the tenth and Yuki, because they have some sorta mother-daughter thing going on too, and that would be really interesting to see, given how Sae has never met her own mother and is very father-identified (in both the normal and Mary Daly-esque sense), having also murdered Tazuru thus negating any motherly bond in her life. Tazuru's backstory was also the most beautiful well-written thing in the entire series, so it would be awesome to see them reenact it, because I KNOW THEY CAN. Maybe that's where this whole Yuki arc is heading?? Sae did mention wanting Yuki to be her partner in crime, maybe that was a hint for the future??? Maybe since she has no family left she's gonna go to the castle (sobbing) Maybe Sae and Misao will adopt her (even more sobbing) and they're gonna be a family together...... wdym I'm delusional. Or maybe she'll stay with Shibako which is fine also because their dynamic is slay and Shibako is an angel to whom I'd entrust my entire progeny. Like I'm pretty intrigued with this arc so far. SO FAR. Tohru don't fuck it up.

19 August, 2024

nsfw (I swear to god I'm gonna stop bothering to mark these because like)

S is my catholic tradwife friend but she likes to feel me up and scratch my abs and she asks me to hold her hand on the street and calls me her wife. Yesterday she told me "you talk like my mommy" and I practically screamed down the street "I am mommy. SUBMIT TO MOMMY". If she was prettier, I might fall in love with her?

I talk a lot about being afraid of regressing, but over the past year I've
•started gardening (which I've always wanted to do)
•made and published this site
•stopped being suicidal
•found a direction I'm pretty sure I want to go towards in life
•discovered permaculture
•massively upped my drug game
•reestablished contact with C
•realized I'm hypersexual (yes it took me that long)
•quit porn
•seriously approached spirituality
•started reading again
•been more confident in general
•discovered Sae-ism (YES IT'S A BREAKTHROUGH TO ME FUCK YOU)

So like, it's something at least. The things that have gotten worse are my kinks and maybe the way I view my past? But I might be correct about that. But overall the balance seems to be positive? Maybe I am so on edge about all of this because I feel the need to prove my worth, not just to others like I said in the past entry, but to myself and the universe: and I feel stressed because I feel like nothing is enough. But maybe I need to calm down a bit and allow myself to like, not be always alert and proving something 24/7, and just allow myself to exist. Maybe I don't need to be so afraid. I don't really see how I can regress so much - maybe when I move out and spend €300 a month on sex toys? But like who cares now, I'll figure it out. What it will be like when I move out is a massive incognita, but again, I'll see.
From tomorrow on, it's supposed to get easier; it SHOULD get easier??? The rains are back and the moon is full tonight. As she starts to go down, I'll go up, at least I hope. Tomorrow I'll wake up early, I think, to read the new Sae-ism chapter while yopo tea boils on the stove. I know I said that me and bufotenine were NEVER, EVER, EVER, GETTING BACK TOGETHER, because the seeds were about to break Fausto (my coffee grinder) and I've heard horror stories about bufo in general, but I have the seeds lying around anyways, and they're SOOOOOO CHEAP!!! So it would be great if I could make it work - which I find unlikely, but it's worth a shot. And in the afternoon I'll pick up a pipe and hog C's vape. I'm grateful, I am grateful for what I have and for the mere possibility that it will all work out. Will it work out? Something? Anything?

Tohru said that volume 15 is coming out 15th october GRRRRRRRRRRR I gotta get enhanced leaf ready and go dance in the woods I mean it doesn't change anything because I'm seeing the chapters come out in real time but like I will see the cover, today he posted a sneak peek of the cover, and it's just regular boring ass Sae instead of being her wanting to kill herself which is the theme of volume 15, so it's probably gonna be fucking lame, Tohru, Tohru if the cover is lame, I'm gonna kill myself and my blood will be on your hands, okay? Come on there's barely even Misao in this volume you have to make up somehow. He said "even if I die, the volume's coming out anyways!!" uuuuuuuuuhhhhhh it's a joke right....... it could be not a joke because he's been shitting blood since June........ I think it's a real unironic possibility..... My heart goes out to my geriatric baby daddy my heart is with him everyday. My heart shits blood with him

From the middle/end of July, I started keeping a daily end-of-summer log in which I wrote what I did everyday, to make sure I wasn't wasting these precious days. It helped me a lot, so I think I'm gonna keep doing it?? Autumn log, winter log, Christmas vacation log, etc etc. Because how you spend your days is how you spend your life, so it's VITAL I get MY ASS UP and GET SHIT DONE!!! Although winter will probably be less active, and again, I'm sorta afraid of it. My iron-deficient ass can't handle any kind of cold.

Some days ago I met sorghum in a field and pinched her seedheads. Hello girl!! We're gonna get acquainted next year. Yes because I want to be the loser who grows grains in her garden.

everything is going to be okay?

me this summer. really gonna miss this

sorry i love these birds

15 August, 2024

Guess what! nsfw

There's a little voice in my head that comments on everything that I do with "average Sae-ism fan" because I really am its only fan 😭😭😭 So statistically it's true, I am the average Sae-ism fan. Not many people have the privilege of statistically being the average fan of their favourite things. So I just repeat it whenever. Average Sae-ism fan

I've been feeling really derealized, and when I remind myself that I'm alive and real it feels like waking from a deep sleep, but I immediately fall back asleep. When will this pass?
I constantly feel like I have to ALWAYS PROVE to EVERYONE EVER that I'm a cool well-adjusted person (excluded here, I wouldn't be doing a very good job at it) because I have the primitive fear that everyone knows how I was, and that they still think I'm like that. I feel like I must ALWAYS act in militant reaction to this possibility, and if ONE thing, even one inconvenient, happens that makes me look like I've regressed somewhat (to my own eyes, most people don't even know or remember), I freak the fuck out internally and start breaking down. What can I do to stop caring so much about external perception? Last night I felt a bit of relief, I was coming home in the dark and I could feel forgiveness in the air of my street, because she must have seen how I've changed. I'm dreading the winter, like an animal. That's it, that's what I am: a simple animal that feels primitively threatened by primitive animal things: adverse climate conditions, not being fit to survive, not having enough skill, being less adaptable and/or strong than my peers, being in a stressful environment,... and who copes in primitive animal ways, like compulsively jacking off. At this point it's blatantly fucking obvious how everything that troubles me becomes a major kink of mine. I should REALLY take a break, but last time I could only manage for two days. UUhhhh I could try again? I could try to (very improbably) get a streak at like the end of august before inevitably starting again because students are legally obliged to feel deep existential dread during september? Comparing myself to an animal doesn't imply a feeling of inferiority; if anything, it's a little comforting, because it goes to show that I'm not TOTALLY abnormal. It's natural in my circumstances. It's normal that I feel a bit off. Average Sae-ism fan (for real, of fucking COURSE the only Sae-ism fan would be hypersexual)

Remember the fitting metaphor? I worked in the garden again today and there was a spot that was so hard to dig, so overrun with weed roots, so awkwardly angled against a stone bbq, so resistant against my shovel that I had to leave it untilled and just lay the cardboard and mulch on top of the untouched soil. This is the traditional way to do sheet mulching, but it's not really apt for my soil because it's really compacted, shitty, bad, not good, hard clay. So it's not gonna do anything. I thought I could trust my growing strength, but I pushed and pushed and pushed and couldn't get deep at all with the shovel and I had to stop, about to start crying in front of the neighbors' apricot tree that hasn't made any fruit, in front of my mother's half-dead tomatoes that could never handle the heat. There's still something from Valentino worth quoting, "Tutto corre verso la fine inesorabilmente." Average Sae-ism fan

I'd ran out of mulch, so I had to use my portulaca, whom I was going to remove anyways because she was at the end of her life cycle. I ripped her out, chopped her up and laid her beautiful rosy stems down on top of the cardboard. She was my favourite in this season's garden. I laid her to rest in unfertile, irredeemable soil. Is there anyone down there who will take her, give her a new place in the circle of life? Anyone? Any earthworms, insects, bacteria? No. And I don't have enough to offer to make them live here. I used three quarters of my compost bin to finish just this bed, and there's no Chipdrop in Italy. No one's living here, no one's listening, and I can only do pathetic useless efforts to try and make it better. I didn't remove portulaca's seeds, I had zero fucking sbatti to save seeds I'll just spend one more euro to buy new seeds next season; what if she surprises me - she's always been a tough girl - and next season I see little portulaca seedlings coming up from my shitty soil and shitty mulch? That would give me hope, but if I lose just a bit more hope it, would be bad. I don't even know where to plant in autumn (at the end of september, I think, when it cools down?) because the sheet mulch will probably be undigested? Uhhhhh Toby Hemenway said that you can poke a hole in the cardboard and plant the seeds in a bit of compost, he does that and his sheet mulch is way thicker than mine. So I could try, and watch absolutely fucking nothing come up, but I could try. Maybe I'll do it for red cabbage that no one really eats but I only bought it because it looks sooooooooo prettyyyyyyyyyyyy. Or maybe lettuce because I have so many seeds. Anyways I finished preparing this bed, except for a little bit of space between trenches, but it's so small I can fix it anytime. Now onto the next one. Average Sae-ism fan

Remember like the slovenia guys THEY REPLIED OUT OF NOWHERE AND SHIPPED MY PACKAGE? (I mean they said they would but if they wanted to scam me they wouldn't have replied after a week, then again they aren't scammers, I've already bought from them, they're just wildly unprofessional) oh my god. But it's supposed to arrive on the 20th which, again... end of summer...... I can't........ I fucking can't wear long sleeves and all that shit like jackets anymore STOPPP my summer clothes are my best ones!!! I just can't believe it's over. That my pass will expire. That my body will get covered. That I won't be near the sea for so many months (can I still swim in september? Come onnnnn). What happened? You promised, I know I can't forget you. Average Sae-ism fan

Sae-ism. Average Sae-ism fan

13 August, 2024

nsfw

I've resumed working on the shrine. Deranged incoherent rants come out much better when they're written on a computer. Someday the shrine will breach containment. And you will see it. And read. What I have to say about obscure toxic yuri manga Sae-ism. Or not, I can't really force you to

Sae: I just get really horny when Misao is in pain
Me: Such a deep, complex character. Her nostalgia and her desire to self-destruct, erase her self, in order to escape from a life she didn't want and never asked for, and to relive the stagnant codependent bliss of her childhood - perhaps even an unconscious call-out to the mother she never met, to the dependency of pre-natal life in the womb. Her poignant backstory perfectly showcases the double standard for women in patriarchy, the Madonna/whore complex, two sides of the same coin (mother and daughter!), willed by the same man - her father, whose influence she tries to deny but is visibly all-pervasive in how she perceives and expresses love, as she latches onto the only person with whom she can hope to replicate the familiar environment and the feeling of being loved that she needs to experience again. I now fully understand the inwards-and-backwards movement of her psyche. Such a brilliant execution of such a sensitive backstory. Single-handedly breathed life into post-volume 10 Sae-ism. Took the series to new heights and unprecedented depths of complexity. Gives me hope for its future. I love her. Baby I'm so sorry they gave you steroids 🧡🧡 Misao you're a piece of SHIT for not reciprocating, never talk about my girl like that again.

Kai: I really miss my childhood friend :(
Me: EWWWWWWW A RAT 🤮🤮🤮🤮 What a fucking piece of shit. Kill yourself

I guess that what I meant by "regression" and the fact that I've been regressing, is that I've dealt with a lot of disappointments lately, so I feel defeated and I've had to retreat in my cave to jack off. My GOONcave if you will HAHAJJAHAJAJAJJAJAJJAHA. No I'm not actually a real gooner because I don't watch porn #notlikeothergooners. I've been through a lot of letdowns lately, I've been feeling kinda hopeless. In less than a month it'll be autumn and I'll have to go to school again. I don't have any particular reasons to fear it, apart from seeing my asshole ex-friend who hogs H's attention... It's just a massive, fucking, DRAG, I dislike most of my classmates and I dislike the school itself. Most students have parents who have teachers, so they have a lot of connections throughout the whole school and also nearby schools, and there are literally only two? three? people in my class (myself included) whose parents don't do fancy jobs like teacher, dentist, doctor, jobs in snobby ass high-paying fields like those. It's a very elitist space full of favoritism, decrepit teachers (because no one wants to attend this school anymore, rightfully so), catholicism, snobby rich kids who go on vacations to Dubai etc etc (sì, è il LICEO CLASSICO! Immagina una tizia stramba di sinistra pagana che venera la luna che non si depila le gambe che innaffia le piante col sangue del ciclo, figlia di un'impiegata divorziata da una famiglia contadina, al liceo classico). I don't want to see themmmm....... they are so fucking annoying. H won't sit next to me for the first month and G hasn't reached out much. The rest of my classmates are so fucking annoying that they're abrasive.

This is all to say, I've been feeling threatened and diminished lately, with failure, with autumn incoming etc etc. And I've had to retreat in my cave to jack off. The threats haven't ended yet. The heat is very bad, but I don't want the cold to come. It will be so fucking sad. Not being able to stay out much at night because it's too cold, wearing long sleeves, not letting everything hang out etc etc. But I have to wait for the temperatures to cool down before planting stuff again. Maybe that's the key: maybe when the heat decreases, when everyone is alright again, when things can grow and the figs don't let their fruits fall anymore, I will get better too? Every tree, every grass will breathe a sigh of relief when the rains come back and when it cools down. Maybe the rain will wash my doubts away, too? Like when I suffer for the figs, but in reverse: I'll get better with them? And I just need to trust the passage of time? It could make sense, but that's also where more threats lie. Oh Goddess! what will I do once my period is gone, once I have nothing else to offer and no other reason to feel powerful, and the moon draws inevitably nearer to autumn? I don't know but you can always jack off about it. At least I will be able to plant stuff again; I'm gonna spend a lot of money on seeds, but the seeds in the packets are not many: I wanted to try direct sowing everything, what if nothing sprouts and I end up with no seeds left? Furiously jack off to forget about it. "Please, don't do it no more / Don't do it no more, no more, no more [...] Junkies are sentimental / Junkies are very, very sentimental." Maybe ordering seeds on ebay is a bad idea even though it's a reputable seller? but I'm gonna do it anyways. Even though, right now, a single thing going wrong would push me over the edge and I wouldn't stop edging (HAHAHHAHAHAHAH) for days. Maybe I'm so on edge (HAHAHJAJAJHAJAJHAJAJAJJAHAJAJHAJ) because August is a weird month of waiting? Everything in the garden is dead, I've pulled up everything from the ground (I dried the dagga, and it smells like mint and tomato sauce and basil), I can't plant anything else yet, school is approaching undeniably fast and you can't not think about it, I have to deal with summer homework, I can't trip, I've ran out of isolate so no cooking and I can't reorder it right now, my mom took this week off work so I have even less privacy,... Maybe that's why? Idk.

I'm convinced BENJIxScarlett is at least half-trolling now??? 😭😭😭 "Brainrot" content usually isn't funny at all for me, but this makes me piss myself laughing. Please give it a listen. I personally recommend Sad Dogday Song, Craftycorn Song, Evil Inside Out 2 Song, Dogday Song (the regular one), Disgust x Lance SlashBlade Song, and Jax X Pomni Song.

11 August, 2024

I bought cloth pads, but even the ultra thick and long ones marketed for heavy flow couldn't handle my scary, terrifying, literal buckets-of-blood, military-grade, heavy duty, no bullshit, misbehaved, ethel cain's nightmare, hustling, mega nonstop automated blood factory, works-in-mysterious-ways, all-destroying, all-staining, sylvan, ominous PCOS pussy. I found blood on my knees, on my arm somehow???? I literally went through two of those extra large ones in two hours, one for every hour, and bled through both of them anyways. I'm kinda bummed and... Kinda proud? Like this entry is me lowkey bragging about how much I bleed. I love having my period (after I take a painkiller). If I stopped being regular like many other PCOS gals, I would be depressed. Truth be told I don't have all PCOS symptoms (YET????), I'm chronically underweight, never had acne, FAR from low libido, but those ovaries be polycystic, those androgens be above average, that hirsutism be hirsuting, that dysmenorrhea be dysmenorrheaing, and I was diagnosed by my gyno anyways.

Uhh anyways I'm over here with period underwear and I hope it can handle me?? Because I really, really wanna make the switch to reusable. Because okay landfills and shit but mostly because I want to feed my plants with the blood. Like what do you mean I am miraculously bleeding unwounded from my WOMB and I'm going through painful cramps monthly, only to throw it away??? I will NOT stand for that. I said literal buckets of blood earlier because I was washing one of these fallen soldiers cloth pads that was KO after an hour, and I had a tall ass bucket under it as I washed, and it was a little more than three-quarters full at the end, it took all that water to flush out all the blood. Anyways I dumped the buckets on my sheet mulch, since I don't have any plants to fertilize right now, I took out the majority of them and it's still too hot to plant fall crops. The garden is so empty. I don't know if I'm doing it right, by dumping it on the sheet mulch, but I guess I am because it's organic matter so it's okay. Like weed juice or compost tea, except it's not plant-based liberal woke fertilizer, it's CARNIVORE bloody raw cool ass fertilizer. I really, really hope I can make the switch!!! I am a GROWN UP GIRL who has RESPONSIBILITIES to take care of living beings. My soil needs it, can't stand to see her being a grey clay slate anymore, and my plants would be so happy. Period underwear is only like 8 euros at Terranova or Calliope. I hope I can still use the cloth pads for less intense days, or else I wasted my money, AGAIN (I swear I'm not still fuming over the package! No they still haven't answered). Actually the bleeding slowed down a little? Girl are you slacking off?? We have soil to build!!
I have yet to read Lara Owen's book but one of her friends said that her period is "hammock time". SO TRUE BESTIE. Everyone with some outdoors space should have a hammock.

The night of the second day, when the flow is still heavy but the cramps have slowed down, is perfect to walk up mountain paths in the woods at night following the moon. Yesterday me and H went back to the mountain beach and we came back late, it was night, completely dark in the woods without a soul in sight!!! My dream of coming back to the mountain in the dark came true!! On the coast there was barely enough light to see the outline of the mountain, and lights from some yachts far out on the sea.

(nsfw) Since I started talking about my pussy: a few days ago I wanted to do a three day not-jacking-off (not calling it nofap... sounds reddit-ish) streak, for my mythical WILLPOWER and also for health reasons because I've been jacking off way too much lately. Literally only THREE days, but the best I could do was a THREE hour edging session on only the second day. I am normal and well-adjusted. I can't even bring myself to feel disappointed with myself, because I've kinda adopted the mentality "it has always been like this and it won't change", which is technically objectively true but I'm thinking I might have to tone it down a little? Because I could use it as an excuse to not care anymore, which is bad. On the other hand I genuinely don't know what to do and I don't even know if caring could ever change anything, it certainly hasn't so far.

I love her

7 August, 2024

I spoke the divine punitive stick into existence, I guess. In this period I am diminished mentally, de-evolved, regressed, unenlightened, inhuman: I have a monkey's brain. I wondered if my love was all wasted: love can't be wasted because love isn't for any particular reason, but if it's unrequited and useless it turns sour. I've been begging for that trip, but these guys won't even answer my fucking email. I've been set back, I've tumbled back, I'm not allowed to make progress or evolve - at least for now. Having been amongst the two most morbid people I know, aka two of my closest family members whom I have to interact with almost daily, certainly didn't help. Lately the only family member I can stand being around is my mom, and that's because we see each other as equals and she sees how I've changed - she's the one I originally started changing for. Everyone else, no thank you. I don't want to be treated like a child anymore, but that's not really a fair request because how much have I progressed from that point, really? From the outside view, I've made much progress; but on the inside?

Today after compulsively jacking off for 4 hours I got my certified gooner ass up and I went into the garden to resume my work on the soil, but I did so little. No one has worked on this soil in years: a kind of grass dominates it, a kind of grass I don't fucking know the name, it spreads by rhizome and it's everywhere, it's worse than mint (the mint patch is right there!!!), it pops up from below the sheet mulch, it's immortal. This grass has been there for years and it's impossible to eradicate; even if I plant other beautiful useful stuff, my wild dagga and coleus, it still pops up and it will never stop: who knows how far down the roots go, I've seen rhizomes as thick as my finger, who knows if there's the biggest one of them all, the first, the most terrible one, hidden far underground, impossible to reach and to dig up. Fitting metaphor. No one takes care of this garden's soil apart for me, no one sees it, I'm the only one who sweats and drives the shovel against the grass, uselessly. Fitting metaphor. I don't know if my efforts are enough, I don't have enough organic matter to appease the worms, nothing I do could ever make corn stay, I don't have enough mulch, enough cardboard, enough compost, every offering of kitchen scraps that I bury and send back to the Mother isn't enough, I don't know if she accepts them, I don't know if she hears me, if she can't or chooses not to, I rot in waiting; I don't know if my dead soil will ever get better. Fitting metaphor. And nobody else bothers with soil improvement or sustainability anyways, they just dig a hole and dump potting soil and artificial fertilizer in it, then plant water-guzzling tomatoes on top, and they get better results than me. Fitting metaphor.

I have to kill my wild dagga and coleus anyways, because they're suffering everyday in this heat: coleus has been bolting since the day I put him in the ground and his leaves are all opaque, and wild dagga wilts every single day, she's grown so little. I don't know if I'll do anything with coleus because I'm kinda tired of mystery tinctures with which you don't know the dosage. I bought him when he was already big, but it pains me to kill my wild dagga because I've grown her from seed and I put so much hope in her. H said he wants to learn how to roll because it looks cool. So I've been thinking of buying him rolling papers and filters and gifting him my old grinder and my homegrown wild dagga, all nice and dried, in a little package, all for my boy H, to tell him sorry, sorry because I haven't been able to make your life better, I wanted to bring fireworks into your life, but I haven't been able to live up to any of my promises. I'm sorry. I'm such a huge failure, all my hopes are wilting. I'm never proud of anything I do and there's a fucking REASON for that: nothing turns out alright, or enough. I am so lowly, so small: so DIMINISHED, so regressed.

But this is temporary and I'm still set on enjoying my August to the fullest. My arms are sore from yesterday's workout. Yesterday I was so happy to see how much more gracefully and effortlessly I drove the shovel into my hard clay ground. "Get back in yo' body, Girl, you have work to do."

Apricot, did your flowers get knocked off by the May storm, like all of your sisters? Do you feel so very bored now that you can't make fruit, do you ache knowing that you have to wait a whole year before trying again? I understand.

Okay so the guys answered my email and basically they are fucking morons that FORGOT TO SHIP MY PACKAGE, and if I didn't write that email they simply would have never noticed and kept the money. What's more is that the pickup point is currently closed so I had to ask them to delay the shipping, but I don't know if that's possible. And there were a TON of other problems before this one, always with this order. I literally give up after this, they can keep the money, I'm exhausted. I'm so stressed over this and the only way to cope is another 4 hour jack off session, but I literally don't have the space right now, and my nerve endings are probably all fried at this point. Nor do I have the will but I never have the will because guess what it's COMPULSIVE. These fucking guys man. I have to let it go. Literally whatever they answer I have to let it go because it's pointlessssssss. I have to let it go. Don't jack off for 4 hours cellula just let it go. Let it slide girl....... Who cares.... It's Slovenia who gives a shit..... They're a small ethnobotany business they're just gonna buy dreamcatchers and incense with your money..... Let it go it's in their hands now let them buy the certified fair trade organic high vibration incense..... You're gonna forget this...... They're gonna forget this..... After they buy the incense and a mandala tapestry to hang in their meditation room with 10 Hours Native American Chanting And Forest Sounds 4K constantly playing in the background....... Then the incense's gonna run out....... It will all be forgotten..... It will pass....... Let them live in Slovenia at least we have sunlight here....... Let it slide..... Don't jack off for 4 hours...... Let it slide..... Don't let it ruin your August....... Who caresssss...... Need to smoke it's okay I haven't quit just yet.

6 August, 2024

Problems.... I finished coding a part of the shrine and I don't know how to proceed anymore, what to put there and how to structure it and the graphics. THE SHRINE NOOOOO THE SHRINE MY DEAR NOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭 the shrine....... look you have no idea how much I care about the shrine and I CAN'T GET STUCK. And I don't know whether my extract has survived the recent heat, and these guys won't ship my fucking package, so I feel like a fucking failure because I haven't been able to do stuff for H like I promised, and because I'm waiting for enlightenment, that lifechanging trip, an experience that doesn't come to me, an experience that - it seems like - DOESN'T WANT TO COME TO ME. Maybe I'm just impatient, OR maybe I'm meant to rot in stagnation and immobility and in my own mind. I wanna take my mind and give it a good spin, put it in the washing machine. Is there someone out there who's good-heartedly laughing at my impatience? Or someone who wants to bring me down and keep me there - the divine punitive stick. But that's too indo-european for me to actually believe. Do you just hate me, Ipomoea - and that's why you wouldn't answer me? Do you dislike me, Mimosa, dee-emm-tee - do you shy away from me because I thought myself worthy of the ultimate sacrament. Psychoactive plants are fucking MEAN, man, let me tell you that. They only play by their rules, will fuck you over incomprehensibly bad if you piss them off, and generally just act fucking weird in ways that you can't explain yourself. They speak their own language. Maybe my love is all wasted, all wasted, all wasted.

And it's August, next month is September and it's back to school. Okay maybe some of you are adults and youre thinking lol she doesnt want to go back to school 😂😂 wait until you get a job and like you're right, just letting the edgy teen inside of me out to say I genuinely fucking hate school, I hate the one that I've chosen, my classmates are grating, the professors even worse. I know that I'm still in the beginning of August right now and I'm basking in this fact: I still have some time left. But the time will run out. If I was more selfish, I'd pray for time to stop - "stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven" - and I'd settle down here, in the heat and drought and the impossibly bright sunlight that makes me dizzy, I'd settle here even as everything in the fields dies. If I was more selfish I would not care, I'd let the streams dry and the journalists talk, I'd never let autumn and renewal come, and I'd build my own garden of immortality here, inviting sorghum, amaranth, millet, cowpeas, tepary beans, and everyone else who loves us enough to stay in a decaying world. I'd reenact Astarte plaques with ironwood and mesquite fronds, and I'd reenact Dictynna statues with desert snakes and my tits out. But I can't do that, and if I don't let time pass the rains will never return, I will never get to sow my fall crops, and I will never get to invite all those plants in the spring and summer to see how they fare in the drought. I'll bask in August and I'll let time pass, okay. I dislike the heat, but the moment when I first feel humidity in the air and when I start wearing long sleeves, I will cry. And I just can't wrap my head around WASTING SO MANY MORNINGS at school, in that building, listening to that SHIT that won't do me or the world any good.
Feeling a kind of doubt and sadness that can only be tamed by forcing the shovel into the ground in 35C degree heat. It's okay to dig, this is not soil: but it will be, and I have to decompact the ground, make room for Her presence. Strew the road of Her passage with half-rotten banana peels, dead gecko bodies, eggshells and moldy peaches.

THE SHRINE I HAVE TO WORK ON THE FUCKING SHRINE!!! GIVE ME IDEAS PLEAE. I NEED THE IDEAS.

4 August, 2024

nsfw

It's 00:21 and I'm not that lucid. Don't worry about my digital footprint I took care of it I have 38849 alternative emails 😍😍 It's hard to talk to S because she makes me so fucking horny. There's nothing sexy about her, she's not hot or even that pretty, she has a neapolitan accent, she has photos of jesus on her printer, she wants to be a tradwife, no but she makes me horny because can make me so fucking MAD sometimes. Like ok she's my friend and I like her, but sometimes she acts so... stupid?? like she's doing it on purpose. And all types of anger and non-sexual frustration make me so horny, and it has been like this since forever. I haven't felt righteous anger in ages. And S can make me so fucking angry oh my god, this is just today's example but we were arranging to go out, she tells me: do you want to go to place A or place B, my parents can take me to place B. And I tell her well place B is cool and better than A, but we have to go on day X because there are no buses and no one can drive me there on other days. So she says ok place B on day X. Then two hours later she tells me: so when are the buses to place B? I tell her wait couldn't your parents bring you we arranged for this COULDN'T YOUR PARENTS FUCKING DRIVE YOU THERE and she says oh actually no. THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME??? So I tell her that there are no buses (I told you????) and she says ok place A then, at what hour will you arrive if you take the bus? I tell her 4:30 or 6:30, wait no not 6:30 because I'd have to cross the statale with no crosswalks and fucking die hahahha. She says oh okay. Then later she asks me: so you're coming at 6:30 right? because I have to attend mass earlier (ATTEND FUCKING MASS). NO I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT I CAN'T TAKE THAT BUS???? So she makes me so fucking angry like this sometimes, it's like she's not even LISTENING to me? And then she sends photos of her outfits or pictures of her eyes with random ass filters and like okay, but then she always comments on how hot she is and how her ex-bf's girlfriend is ugly as fuck compared to her and how her classmates are ugly compared to her (none of this is true) and how her ex-bf is ugly and stupid and a cuozzo. So like she does this, but she's not THAT SERIOUS about this whole bragging stuff, she's not, it's kinda supposed to be AMIABLE, but it's excessive, and coupled with her misunderstandings and stupid behaviour she makes me MAD, which for me always translates to mad horny. And I don't know why?? I've made this connection since forever, since I started being conscious, and I don't fucking know why? Like do/did I do it to cope or? I don't fucking need it anymore GO AWAYYYYY See I will never get reasons why I am like this (not just this mad-horny stuff), because it all burrows so far back in the past and it has been with me FOREVER, it's been around for the same time as my conscious mind. And it never fails to surprise me, grasping the full extent of its impact on my life, seeing how every single emotion can be distorted and has gotten distorted by it. So like, the same old pondering over the same old stuff, that will ultimately change nothing. Okay

HOLY SHIT NEW TREATSFORBEASTS ALBUM HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

I feel like I'm going to rot physically mentally and spiritually before that package arrives.

1 August, 2024

I'm worried sick about fig trees. Every tree that I've seen has dropped at least a bit of her figs on the ground, and my grandmother confirms that this is widespread, it happened to her and most of the people she knows. I'm agonizing - why? There are a ton of thriving wild fig bushes around here, they sprout through cracks in the stone - what's wrong? It's probably the high temperatures, but I can't wrap my head around it: figs grow and fruit in much hotter climates, many permies grow them in desert projects. I'm wondering about the trees I wanted to guerrilla grow, my asherim. How would they fare? Am I just gonna put them in the ground and get shriveled rotten figs? Of course I don't value Ficus Carica just for her fruit, but I wanted to plant something that could feed people. Maybe it's the varieties we grow around here. But then which plant am I supposed to get a cutting from? I can't get a whole ass sapling shipped to my door. What do I do then? Do I turn to Ficus Sycomorus - she's grown in very hot climates, but I've heard she needs a lot of water. And do we even have the wasp for fruit production? I could try (and cope with potentially killing the sacred tree of Nut). I could also try putting regular figs in a bit of shade? I think that's my best bet: just a bit of shade, under a larger tree perhaps. That would be a good idea for a permie setup too, think huge carobs or mulberries (Geoff Lawton grows them...... come on I really trust you gals) with a fig and various other stuff in the understory. But I don't know if it could work, because I've always read that figs need full sun and, again, that they perform well in high heat and drought. So why and how??? I've been agonizing over this. If the figs want to move up north where it's cooler, I'll follow them; it just wouldn't be home without figs and olives and pomegranates, and everyone else. But it'd be sad, leaving this place; and in the north of Italy there are a lot of dangerous storms. Today I went to see all the figs I know near my home, and they all have dropped something. I hiked and sweated and suffered both the heat and the doubt and the pain for my figs (none of them is mine but I care so much). Not winter! not winter, but summer is the season when Tammuz goes to die, and when we must grieve him. I suffer, but probably this suffering is something good, because I suffer alongside the figs themselves and almost every other plant and animal here. I don't know anyone else who grieves the fig trees. Pagan means "of the land", and if it's what I strive to be, then this suffering is an holy thing, because I suffer with my land. Fuck AC, I don't want to be unbothered and carefree when everything I know is suffering so much. I dream of mesquite, but it tastes like shit - I'll have to get used to it.

But I wouldn't want to move away from the sea. Places inside the country with no access to the sea have always weirded me out, but that's habit speaking. The sea: my grandmother, our grandmother. The relationship between humans and the sea is weird, tender, half-forgotten but still heartfelt: we all lived in her and were sustained by her, so many epochs ago. Now evolution has taken us too far apart to be together: her salt waters and winds are too harsh on us, those who choose to spend their whole life by her side bear the signs of their faces; but we remember coming from her and the care she gave us, and we naturally long to return to her, to dive in this alien world that we once lived in. No doubt, she must remember us too, and even though she's definitely harsher and less safe than our Mother Earth and she's now dedicated to caring for other creatures, she shows us some love; she picks us up in her arms like a grandmother with a grandchild, she makes us float; and the water around our ears sloshes and sings a song at our passage, the first melody that life on Earth ever heard. In the end figs are the priority, and I'll just follow them wherever I have to.

I'm back from vacation btw, it was nice, it was by the mountains. The first thing the mountains did for me was making me understand the Mountain-Mother analogy, then the second thing they did for me was making me so fucking pissed at the fact that the end wasn't in sight that I started rushing and sprinting over the rocks just to try and get to the end faster and I lost track of everyone - at the start of the summer I wrote that I wanted to do that, just climbing and sprinting on the rocks like a mountain goat, so here's that. Coming back felt much better, much less steam built up, I didn't even want to smoke anymore (I'm gonna quit ok, last pack because I paid for it!!!!). And best of all, the hotel had a pool!! It was like an azure jewel in motion. It was not like the pool from my childhood (the simple, young one): she seemed older and more complex because of the richness of her color and reflections; again, jewels come to mind: she was sort of like a jewel-clad, fashionable and elegant young lady. She's sly, more connected and aware: she looks straight at the mountains, and how many swallows bathe in her waters leaving egg-shaped ripples! Older than the pool from my childhood: maybe I see her this way because I am older, too, grown up. Everything is also a mirror for the self. Everything, for everyone! When I am inside my house, thoughtful and facing my own psyche, I tend to think of "my" mountain as the dark Crone; then when I am actually near her, and when I watch her from the sea while paddling, I see that she's sunlit and houses the divine yellow brooms on her back: I realize that she's kinder than I thought (a Mother?).

On the 30th new Sae-ism chapter got out, I think it's funny how Tohru retweets his announcement of new chapters once or twice like he's afraid that someone's gonna miss it. It's okay Tohru I saw it. I saw everything. I watch your every move. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and when nobody's buying your volumes anymore I will cut my arm open and let you drink the blood to keep you alive. Btw I was right there was a new character, renaming my site to lovelypeachespopsinger100 and uploading my cover of Itchin' And Burnin' as we speak. No I'm not gonna do that because I can tell he's not here to stay he's just a comparsa because he looks like a fucking doraemon character. That day was also Tohru's birthday and I'm so fucking sad I couldn't do anything 😭😭

I am scared of regression: I feel like every single little minuscule aspect in which I've gotten worse over these years, I FOUGHT for it, inch by inch, and I conquered it so slowly and hardly, that if I got knocked down a single peg, if I lost a single one of these small achievements, I would be devastated. No, more: I would keep falling down with nothing to catch me. I make progress so, so slowly, and with every bit of progress I make, the more I pity and/or despise the way I was before. It's like my life so far has been a progressively brighter tunnel, going towards the exit and towards the light, but so so slowly and almost imperceptibly; and as I go forwards I can't help but be horrified looking back behind me and seeing the darker path I just went through, and even worse, imagining how it was at the start of the tunnel: unimaginable thick darkness. Not talking about external things: talking about my own mind and my behaviours.

How could I not be scared of regression into old patterns, when I live in the same environment where they festered? Still the same couch, the same chairs, the same people, the same walls (the bed is different tho #istaywinning). My old clothes still fit, too - WHY? This makes me so fucking mad. I started actually eating and I work out, but my body doesn't fucking care, and the scale always spits the same numbers back at me. I stretch and my ribs point outwards as if threatening to puncture the skin, just like the threat of regression looms from the inside. One of my uhh special orders didn't even get shipped and I don't know why? It's a trustworthy company. But I'm over here waiting for the chance to try deemz and the order just won't get shipped, and in the wait maybe I'll petrify and return to that state of squallor and mindlessness. No breakthrough, no epiphany, no ecstasy, no highs, no hopes, no fears, no shame, no regret, no meaning, no spirit, no mind. I'm afraid that a divine punitive stick will appear from the sky and dispassionately stuff me back into the hole, and like a rat I will scurry down it, not scared, simply puzzled; I will keep going down and down through the stages of my life, and eventually I will grow so beastly and unaware that my regression into the worst version of myself and the worst period of my life, pure deliriant chaos and darkness, won't even scare me anymore.
But I AM scared now, and I care painfully much. Probably this pain is something important and sacred, like the pain I feel for the figs. Because it binds me to sanity - to awareness, even if it's cynical. And this fear will keep me tethered away from those states I could regress to. I have my head out on the look for those behaviours - even though I can't help them. Catch myself doing something I would have done as that eleven year old, and tell myself: it's in the water baby, it's in your frequency.

28 July, 2024

This entry sucks guys sorry I just rant about Sae-ism and I am too sleepy to write

I'm leaving tomorrow for two nights. It's gonna be good but sleeping in a shared room puts a bad taste in my mouth, because I remember the hotel floor night. I've mentioned it a few times yeah. I choose to forget all the other bad stuff that happened during that week, but I just can't help reminding myself of the hotel floor night; it was not only a bad episode, it was an EXEMPLARY kind of bad, that sort of stuff that notifies you that you've crossed the line. If you had a suspicion before, of having crossed the line, those kind of episodes make it undeniable.

Saeismposting incoming ⚠⚠⚠....... I am actually so fucking pissed at Sae and Misao because they are SO FUCKING STUPID they don't understand ANYTHING they say such BULLSHIT..... BOTH OF THEM "Oh I have the "horny for Misao" gene 🤠" NO THE FUCK YOU DON'T SWEETIE???? ♥ "I get it now, Sae doesn't like ME she only likes it when I'm scared and she will stop loving me once I start loving her back" THAT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am so pissed at Misao in particular for this I am seething I am mad BECAUSE IT'S NOT TRUE it's such a dumb fucking explanation that doesn't make sense if you consider other factors, it doesn't make sense for Sae the tenth who's such a complex character, that is the reasoning of a middle school bully, and Sae is in HIGH SCHOOL, GIVE HER THE RESPECT SHE DESERVES. Like, I'm not just desperate to cling onto my specific interpretation of her - it's also that, but she genuinely is much more complex than this shitty ass fucking stupid awful explanation, she's not so heartless and shallow; and it wouldn't be a problem if it was just Misao being Misao aka clueless, but the fact that these words are put in her mouth like with some sort of seriousness (?)/solemnity, like there's even the fucking visuals and shit, like it's something actually true? And that kinda scares me like... Does Tohru even UNDERSTAND what he's created?? Okay I'm being kinda arrogant right now, sort of implying that a creator doesn't understand his work as much as I do, and maybe it's because Sae-ism actually fucking sucks and I'm the only person in the world to see it as more than it actually is because I'm stupidly in love with it, buttttttt........ I mean it, I think Sae is definitely much more complex and HUMAN than that, I will accept slander of her (because like she tortures people) but NOT oversimplification, and it angers me to see Tohru himself sort of oversimplifying her, sometimes, actually just this one time but okay. It just sort of worries me, to think that there's a possibility that Tohru will fuck her character up; okay this happened just in volume 10, more than 4 volumes ago, and in the very recent chapters she was portrayed beautifully in the full extent of her complexity. Bbbut sometimes Tohru acts unwise........ yeah I love him very much of course he's my daddy he's my pookie he's my darling even though he's a middle aged married man who has bladder stones, but it's incredible that the entire fate of Sae-ism depends on him, the guy that wrote season one, but also the guy who wrote volume 12 (apocalyptically bad)... Father into your hands I commend my spirit, please don't fuck it up I love Sae-ism I love Sae-ism. You have power of life and death over me. Tohru is the god who makes crops do well or bad, and I need a good harvest of nasty lesbian sex, for my self-sufficient off-grid toxic yuri homestead, I need enough to dehydrate and can for the winter or else I won't survive the famine. Please. Tohru don't let me down. Oh and also new chapter coming out on the 30th but I will be on vacation so I won't be able to translate it GRRRRR GRRRRRRR GRRRRRRGRRRRRRR...... WHATEVER IT'S GONNA BE BAD ANYWAYS!!!!!! BECAUSE IT'S LIKE i don't fucking know there's like these people I can't see clearly from the draft I think there's like Tendo stabbing someone in the mouth? and if there's a new character I will morph into Lovely Peaches.

I wouldn't be so pissed if it was just Misao being dumb as usual. I want to reach her through the screen "Sae doesn't like me..." NO BABY LISTEN TO ME I SWEAR SHE DOES I know you're in her torture chair right now but SHE LOVES YOU, IN HER OWN WAY OKAY, WHICH IS NOT GOOD AND IN FACT IS VERY BAD BUT SHE LOVES YOU OKAY........ MISAO LISTEN TO ME.... She loves you don't be sad you can always make up/make out!! You're just dumb. They're both dumb actually. I want to lock them in a room full of unlabeled research stimulants and Nell'Aria by Marcella Bella playing on speakers

↑ WHAT THE FUCK IT'S THE SAME COLOR AS THE DIV BACKGROUND

Pushed myself too hard on my kayak like the last time. Oooh the hardshell, it's a crime that I can't just take my hardshell anytime I want. I went torwards the harbour this time, towards the city, and I saw her white monument, the marble eagle with pink oleanders draped over her shoulders like an ermine coat. Her more popular beaches were full; I pushed against those not very strong but high waves that motorboats create (and there were a TON of motorboats, I fucking hate all of them) because I wanted to see the harbour, that one harbour that saw my estrangement: we can now smile at each other in a deeper wiser way. The water was so clear so far from the shore, I even saw a school of occhiate!!! Occhiate are the miracle fish to me. I've always seen them in the clearest, most blessed waters I've been in. When I move out idk if I will become fully vegan (because like who gives a fuck about shellfish) but I will never touch an occhiata ever again. I saw a piece of coast that I had completely forgotten: another wide concrete beach, a path full of graffiti coming down from the top of the mountain, something like big volleyball nets on the cliff to stop landslides, blue-green but at the same time very clear water, a high and nonslippery ocean floor (which is rare around here), and just generally a lot, a real lot of people. I was over the moon seeing that piece of the coast, because it reminded me of the pool, I could even smell chlorine, I swear. I thought: there are penthouses here at the top of this cliff; doubtless, the mountain must have talked to some rich person's pool, she must have been intrigued, and she must have tried to emulate the pool here, to play around: here her wise and ancient mother-face eases up in a bright childlike grin! I had a lot of better words in my head at that time, I was writing praises to this coast over and over in my head as I paddled, but when I came back they got flushed out by the wine, and now I'm just so fucking sleepy. The wonder is still very much alive though. I was over the moon over this piece of coast. I don't know I can't fucking write today I'm fucking exhausted

26 July, 2024

The airplanes song "can we pretend that airplanes 😔" is fucking hilarious, like not even because of the mordetwi meme, just on its own. It makes me piss myself

Me: lol why do people always go to shitbeach when coolbeach is right there and it's so much better! unenlightened fools
Coolbeach:

(repeated many times)

So yeah I went to one of the isolated beaches I had in mind to camp in, it was a tiring hike but worth it. It also took quite a few buses, which is ok because I love the bus and I have the pass for free rides all summer so I gotta take advantage of it!!! I just need fucking earbuds man the ones without the rubber thingy because C made me try them on last time and they're very comfortable, but the chinese shop was closed AGONY AND FURY. I know I should stop caring about how I'm perceived but honestly I think I slayed so fucking hard today, teen girl walking alone with fratboy-style cap and cool shades and hiking boots and leg hair and takeaway pizza in hand and tent under the arm and free bus pass and drugs in my backpack, like ok I know I sound egocentric and obsessed with external perception and I kind of am but, if I saw myself today on the streets as a twelve year old, I would point to myself and say: yeah that's how I wanna be, that's the life I wanna lead. I always think I'm not making progress and mantaining the same old sickening patterns - I'm not making ENORMOUS progress, but a little? Probably. Quiet prayers, some abs, some muscle - I'm getting somewhere.

I brought just a little bit of my LSA extract with me but I ended up on the beach way later than I thought, so I didn't take it because I couldn't be tripping balls on the dingy staircase while rushing for the bus. I kept it in a pouch. Only two old men passed me by on the beach, both very nice, one warned me about landslides (but nothing bad could ever happen to me amirite 😂😂) and the other one was when I was swimming; he found the pouch sitting away from my tent and said to me from the shore IS THIS YOURS????? and I was like OH MY GOD YES THANK YOU!!!!! I could have forgotten it there like a dumbass but he saved my drugs. Actually no he didnt because I keep fucking forgetting that lysergamides are heat-sensitive, not just light-sensitive!!!!! So I probably deactivated it anyways!!!!!!!! But whatever it was just a little bit not the whole extract...... Can we pretend that lysergamides in alcohol solution are not heat-sensitive? I could really use a beach trip right now, beach trip right now, beach trip right now

The water was the freshest I've ever felt, even though I know these shores well enough. It was the most relaxing swim I've ever had but probably because I was all alone. I thought about belonging: I probably don't belong to the mountain; the crows, boars and pines do; I'm not that wild. I surely do belong to my homeland though, the place I live, the soft hills and fruit trees; I feel it with my whole self. But, how does the mountain feel about me, what kind of relationship can I have with her? Am I just a tourist to her then? No, don't tell me that: I've seen her many times and swam in her waters many times, surely she recognizes me at least. Once she even tried to take me back: I was drowning far from shore and for months I called the guy who saved me "savior" (salvatore, it makes sense bc its a normal italian name). On the bus I thought: this harbour saw my deepest estrangement. (music played on buses is so good somehow) Perhaps I have to stop always looking for love, perhaps some things can't give you love but they can give you other valuable lessons, more valuable lessons. What are these wounds she always leaves on me when I come to her with an open heart? That time as a kid, that first hardshell ride of the summer after my surgery, and today alone with the tent - I get these effortless, painless, bulging rounded scars, almost like kisses, almost like marks that say: you were here and I saw you, remember this. I hope they never fade. The one from when I was a kid never has - I used to look at it whenever I needed to feel a sense of belonging and recognition, like: I know nothing but I know the mountain marked me once.
Ate from a blackberry bush as I did years ago in my suicide era as I was writing in my head over and over. Wild blackberries give poetic vision. Yknow like the muses. Wild figs under the canopy shake my soul! Little crooked wild figs in the shadows of the woods. Ghostly apparitions! I am deeply grateful and in awe at the capability of figs to grow anywhere, can't wait to handle them myself and up close.

Born to buy distillate and make "skibidi toilet og cali indica" carts, forced to make zeo tek and tinctures. Can we pretend that IPA-extracted zeo tek is like distillate? I could really use a cart right now, cart right now, cart right now. Smoking/vaping is bad so maybe it's a blessing in disguise, but I FUCKING LOVE the aesthetics of american carts, better yet if they're fake. No I haven't tried them- I FUCKING LOVE the aesthetics. ESPECIALLY the fake carts. Like... picture being in an american high school and you enter the bathroom at recess (recess? whatever the fuck idk what you guys do) and you see a bunch of white kids talking like they grew up in the hood, theyre sucking on shit like "FRUITY PEBBLES CANDY CEREAL NOTMARKETEDTOKIDS" or "PURPLE BALLSACK OG CALI DISPO"; your friend hands you CARTNITE or SOUTH CARTS or some shit like fryds, and says "bro plug said its from cali bro its legit". I'm subbed to r/fakecartridges on reddit, and I don't even need to know which carts are fake because I simply don't have access to them since they're an american-only thing I think (they cant really be "faked" where they're illegal), BUT IT'S JUST SO FUCKING FUNNY everyone there talks like soundcloud rappers and they're all in high school, it just perfectly embodies that atmosphere I described above. It's just fucking hilarious and it's one of my favourite subs. Plus many carts (especially fake ones) actually look amazing and very visually pleasant, I have a ton saved to my phone, and I wish I could do something like that too. I COULD technically buy some distillate of whatever strange alt-noid, but fuck knows what's in there, the european alt-noid market is shady as fuck. I'll do it my way. But that awesome super colorful packaging.... I mean I could do it too (not for marketing obviously, just for me and to pamper my baby H) for whatever the fuck other than carts but I don't even have a color printer (unbearable pain). The guy at the print shop when I tell him to print "sae's torture chair og d8/d9 blend strong af"

Sae-ism sae-ism sae-ism. You have no idea how much Sae-ism has taken over my life. I love it as much as I loved :riflessi, La Sintesi, Soerba, the Törless when I first met them: an extraordinary all-consuming kind of love; and I loved :riflessi because Valentino was my brother on the deepest level, I loved La Sintesi because it was pure musical magic through which I experienced the biggest clearest wonder, I loved Soerba because it was the soundtrack for my simultaneous coming into existence and fading out of existence (which, I thought, in my case aren't mutually exclusive), I loved the Törless because he wrote also for me to help me find a way, and I love Sae-ism because, idk it's just fucking great. And like all great things that I love(d) greatly, its greatness burrows far back in my mind away from rational thought and written/writable words. There's something about Sae-ism season one, in particular the very first chapters from when it was still called HELP, that's deep, dark, reverberating, powerful, mysterious, Sphynx-like, cavernous, like a dark synth song that's been sitting at the bottom of your playlist for years, by a band that never put out anything else.

Can we pretend th

WAIT GUYS IS THE BACKGROUND FOR THIS PAGE FUCKED UP IN DIFFERENT SCREEN SIZES? SERIOUSLY?

25 July, 2024

This night is a bit different, usually i can stay up very late but now i'm fucking morendo dal sonno even tho its only 00:35 am because talking to S too much about relationship issues and reality tv shows could honestly knock me out faster than iv fentanyl, but im holding on a little longer because of the sae-ism shrine and the dark synth music and the july night, i get these nights where i can stay up until whenever i want doing whatever i want and im not gonna fall asleep just because S talked too much about her ex-boyfriend's ugly nose, fuck it, im not wasting time.

Tohru on twitter: I just had a colonoscopy
me, teary-eyed: I love you. My soul is too small to house the love and wonder that your work inspires in me. It tastes like the first jet of water from the spring of wonder. I want to go back in time and pry into your brain to see its conception, its development before it was even published, I want to know it all. If by chance I hadn't come across it, I would be missing a piece of my soul. I will never be able to fully express how much it means to me. Can you please make the two protagonists fuck

and then i dont even like his tweets because i dont have an account. he has a ton of health issues hes gonna die and i would legit send him money but what the fuck is a yen

he recently posted that hes got all the like drafts for volume 15 ready, so the fate for volume 15 is sealed, and they probably arent gonna fuck. its fine with me guys im okay *looks out of the car window with rain droplets on it while placebo ashtray heart plays* its a leap of faith he could not take a promise that he could not make a leap of faith he could not take...... no but like apart from that (because it would be good for the plot im literslly dead fucking serious i swear you guys just havent read my 7733747347 word analysis on sae the tenth i am not crazy) i hope its not another mid volume like these latest ones, even though it looks like it will be, apart from sae the tenth's backstory which was literally the best fucking thing that has happened to the series since volume 10, but like if tohru keeps adding these motherfucking goofy ass side characters, if tohru adds ANOTHER SINGLE CHARACTER im gonna surgery myself and mail him my bloody ovarian cysts, and im scared for my uterus because i think i saw two new characters on one of the drafts.............. please fucking stop its called sae-ism not thisrandomasskid-ism or criminalfurry-ism. please. dont let sae-ism become bad okay its always been bad but i care about it so much because i have bad taste, we're soulmates, okay dont ruin it tohru bby daddy. i think im gonna go to sleep now.

21 July, 2024

Overall things are very good. I'm grateful to this old little computer because I've dropped and beaten him so much but he never stops working well, and he allows me to have those late nights coding when I'm the only one awake, exploring my old playlists from years ago. I'm using him right now, so maybe he can hear me when I type this - I love you! Thank you! C has to stop texting that guy, but I know that she won't. That's partly her Problem.

When I was eleven I exhausted the sacred life-substance. Idk how to say it, I tore that very important piece out of the fabric of my self. I stomped on it and dragged it through the dirt, and now I have to deal with - not its absence because that would mean the absence of the Problem, but like a corrupted half-alive desecrated version of it. I exhausted it, I lost it when I was only eleven and it was also my fault. There are still many more ways in which I can get worse and just bad in general (there are burrows left right and down but never up and out) but at eleven I officially crossed the point of no return. So I'll never return and I'm locked outside of those rites forever. I'm just sad over the fact that I lost it, and that I didn't just lose it but I also fucked it up on my own, and I'll never get it back.

I've been aloof and even hostile lately with family, but not with friends and also not with my mother, I could never consciously treat her badly. I think I should just let myself be like this, it's something every edgy teen does, so I allow myself to do that, also because it's objectively unnerving: I sit on the same couch as when I was that kid, I eat at the same table, sit on the same chairs inside the same walls, talk to the same people that saw me being that; even the old olive tree outside my living room - the living room... horror!! - must have seen me, if the blinds weren't closed and the curtains weren't shut - then, horror!! it must judge me to this day, everyday, everyday as I sit in the same couch. It's unnerving when I think about it and I just let myself vent that frustration a little bit, I don't care. Did the olive tree also see why? Maybe the weird stuff combined with the other stuff affected me a bit more than I thought. It could explain that habit. Also maybe there's more weird aspects of the weird stuff that I don't remember, idk like burrows becoming narrower and darker so you can't explore further - because I can see how it could have gotten weirder, just a little more and a little further and it could have gotten much weirder. But that doesn't make complete sense either because since 1) they almost certainly didnt do it because they wanted to fuck me or something 2) my sister was around the same exact people, it probably didn't happen only to me but also to my sister, so why didn't she end up like me? (bc I know that she didn't) okay she has other (big) problems, maybe we processed it in different ways but how, since we grew up together and all that? I always reach a dead end, and the answer always is I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. My sister is older than me and has good memory, she remembers funerals I had no idea happened, but I can't ask her. Only I deal with the Problem and only I can handle it because it's not really a matter of personal face-to-face discussion so.
But of course I don't think about all this emo ass stuff all the time. Like I said things are pretty blissful most of the time. Even if I lived in fucking heaven the Problem would still be around, it covers all things and all times like a patina.

I love pools. I really want to go to a pool. Pool is an awful fucking word, and piscina too because it sounds like piss. We need a new word for them that's clear and light. I really, really miss pools; I just need to smell a whiff of chlorine to feel a pang in my chest and the overwhelmingly tender memories of going to the pool. Today I went to a bar and I saw a Café Zero advertisement, it's an iced coffee and they have an orgasmic cocoa and coconut flavor, and I used to drink it at the pool with C and our ex-friend, when we were a trio, in middle school. That was really really fucking tasty and the pool was incredible (I have to drag C back there). I remember the pool bar itself as an oasis in the oasis, an open, clear and harmonious building in the middle of all the pools (because like there were multiple pools). Anyways today I saw the Café Zero and I felt my heart swell because I HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN CAFÉ ZERO but it was so fucking great and the pool was fucking great too, and I remember those times with C and our ex friend (who became an asshole). But it was too late to order it, so I just stared at the advertisement. I have to find someone else who sells it.

Pools are such heavenly places. I love all of them, I light up just seeing one in the distance, but there is one in particular that I miss very, very much. My aunt used to live in this apartment complex that had a private pool for the people who lived there, and sometimes she would invite my mom, my sis and me there. It was a very quiet and tranquil pool since it was just for the residents: it was unlike any public, chaotic, crowded pool. It was quiet and calm, you could just drift in the water, hear its sloshing, watch its webbed reflections, watch the unbearably bright pool floor below you. My aunt moved out of that apartment complex, so we can no longer go there. I can never go back there again. This thought should be painful, but the impossibly serene memory of the pool itself erases any such pain and leaves only longing and love for that place. I love that pool, that specific pool, and I will never see her again; since she used to know me, not many people used to visit her, and she will never see me again too, I feel it would be reasonable to assume that she misses me, too, just like I miss her. I gave her much love and she gave me much love, too. There were always leaves on her water, because she wasn't cleaned that frequently and she was surrounded by trees. I watched the leaves drift and become part of the water's dancing reflection on the walls.

I haven't gone to any pool in a long, long time. I just go to the sea lately, either these overcrowded sand beaches with solid blue-green sludgy water next to full parking lots, or the lonelier rock beaches just below the mountain, with the winding steep paths to reach them. Their water is clear, but it's harsh with rocks and dark algae just below the surface; the wild and ancient Mountain watches, and you have to keep in mind all of her children whom you walk and swim amongst - the fishes, the blennies, the crabs, the crows, the wild figs and the pine trees. That may be another reason why I long for the pool: this sort of spirituality is gratifying, yes, but it's also daunting. It's daunting to see everything as alive. The Mountain is daunting, she's wild and jagged and very old; sure, she can be bright with the scorching sun and all the blooming brooms, but when the canopy closes up overhead and the rocks get slippery or too jagged to allow passage she reminds me of the Crone - the Crone again, and I've dealt with the delirium, the subconscious, the pathologies, the Problem, the cave for far too long now, and she scares me! The pool is nothing like that, she could never elicit fear. She hasn't communed with the sea for thousands of years: she is manmade, young like me. She doesn't know any mystical secrets that I can't comprehend, or fearful rituals; she has no authority to judge you, nothing to teach you. Her tiles are smooth, harmonious, identical, bright. She doesn't have such thealogical complexity to her: she is sheer brightness, the wonder and simplicity of a young mind. The Maiden? Anyways, she's an equal, she could be your friend: she was my friend. She has no children who live off the food she gives them, she's kept clean and sterile by the filters and the chlorine: there are no absurd sea creatures, no crabs hidden in dead-looking shells, no bottom-dwelling camouflaged fishes like the one who stung your dad when he was little and who made him go to the hospital. The pool floor is perfectly visible from above the water, and even clearer and brighter than the summer sky above you. Of course I'm not saying that she's dumb or shallow: she's just young, simple and friendly. It's just you and the pool, you float on her pure clear water and watch her wonderful dance reflected on the walls nearby. You float, simple-minded and serene like her. That could be partly why I need the pool right now: I'm tired of complexity and sickness and the unknown and shit like that. And pools are just plain fucking great.

The Maiden? I used to associate LSA with that clear water and its reflections. From Rätsch's Encyclopedia: "The Kogi compare the brilliant reflection on the water with certain luminous sensations a person might perceive under the influence of a drug." So I used to think of her as a Maiden, but when I actually felt her that one time she was old and tired, much more crone-like. The Crone again. Idk, I scramble for knowledge and I'm met with dead ends one after another, and I'm not even sure if that knowledge would just fuck me up more. But then again I don't always think about this stuff, I'm vibing lately.

19 July, 2024

Hairdresser fucking BUTCHERED my hair........

I talk about the Problem so much because it's always there and it's always been there, and I've never talked about it to anyone, so now that I have my site I can talk about it. I just keep talking and talking about it. It's just hard to deal with something that you were certain you would die over for years. I can talk about it like it's a sort of Ummoved Mover, an abstract mechanism that compels me to do stuff, and not a very real and concrete set of actions and thoughts that set me back. The Problem is constant and unchanging but it isn't comforting, at all, which is weird for someone like me who finds comfort in stability and, most of all, sickness. Maybe I don't find the specific sickness that is the Problem comforting because it is not the kind of sickness that can take me floating out of this world, like a high fever with its absurd clairvoyant dreams, or Valentino Kore's ideal pale dying adolescent, but instead it is, again, a very real set of actions that grates against the rest of my being and generally just distresses me very much.

Valentino Kore! Am I still bound to him? I felt that he was my soul-brother. In short, Valentino Kore is the protagonist of an early 1900s very obscure novel by Aldo Palazzeschi called :riflessi (later edited and republished under the name Allegoria di Novembre). It's about a super dramatic young blond gay mentally ill decadentist poet megalomaniac narcissistic/self-hating paraphilic prince who goes to the villa where his mother killed herself, stays there for the month of November, writes letters to his ex boyfriend and kills himself at the end of the month. Palazzeschi wrote the book because he had erectile dysfunction and was about to kill himself because he was gay. Saying that I loved the book was an understatement. I paid €60 for it because it was so obscure it was nearly impossible to find (it was the first time I ever saved up to buy something), then I scanned it all and put it on z-library.

But above the plot, above the writing, above everything, I loved Valentino, because I HEAVILY related to him. Heavily. There's no "he's just like me fr", no "kin" or whatever the fuck that can explain the serious, deep affinity I felt with him. We were the same, every sentence his brain conceived was something I had also thought, but dignified and condensed into 108 beautiful, beautiful pages. I teared up multiple times because of the way he described the things that WE went through. "No, Johnny, tu non potresti vivere quassù, tu non potresti vivere vicino a me, nessuno ci potrebbe vivere.": "No, Johnny, you couldn't possibly live up here, you couldn't live near me, no one ever could." But I could, and I did. Only me and him, exploring the maze of our minds. AND we also have the same names.
I say Valentino, and not Palazzeschi, because Palazzeschi later hated and rejected this book: so it was just me and Valentino, especially because the book was so, so obscure. :riflessi was my :riflessi (just like now Sae-ism is my Sae-ism), and Valentino was my Valentino, my brother. It was almost impossible to see him as a fictional character, when he was my mirror, my perfect soul-brother, with whom I shared my fate. I suffered like him, I was to suffer like him and I was to kill myself like him: reading his words was both excruciating and comforting, because we were heading down the same dark path, together. I seriously read the book like christians read the bible, there was always a sentence for me, always: everyday I could have described my day with a sentence from Valentino (which is a very bad thing). I related to everything about him, except that he wanted to fuck his dead mom, so obviously not to that.

He truly understood everything. Everything he wrote was shared between us, of course; but there was one thing, one thing that he wrote, that was my beating heart ripped out from my chest and placed on the page. It was his paragraph about the ideal pale dying adolescent that I mentioned earlier. It was such a specific feeling only I had - crying over a science textbook because I could never achieve that effortless, dreamy, floating, peaceful death - and he put it on paper, perfectly. I could recite that entire paragraph by heart. Out of all the things he wrote, it's the one that burns the most in my memory.
What's more is: if I read the things that I once wrote about and for him, I see the same fascination with delirium I have now, born from the observation of his fragmented mind, our fragmented minds. He was my brother in delirium! We both explore(d) our childhood homes like a maze full of spiders and trapdoors. And he must have dealt with the Problem too, because his words were the only things able to calm me down when it was tormenting me: "come non vede egli ch'ella è completamente dissanguata dal desiderio?" He certainly saw it. "Sono sfinito, esausto, non sono più che un povero lembo di carne avanzata al martirio. Prega, prega per la mia salvezza e per la mia pace." (shitty translation "I am finished, exhausted, I am no longer anything more than a poor piece of flesh leftover from martyrium. Pray, pray for my salvation and my peace.") "Così io sono ora, Johnny, non proveresti ribrezzo di me? Come di un rospo che si contorce nel fango senza poterne uscire?"

But the fact is: I don't relate to him that much anymore. I don't really feel like he's my soul-brother anymore. This is mostly positive, because it means I'm not that sick and suicidal anymore. But I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, in a sense. Of course I can't and I don't want to go back. But back then I thought that we were bound together in fate for eternity, and I am taking that back right now. Of course I will always be sick and in love with sickness, but not this much, and I'm growing towards the light at least a little, like he refused to do. I might still understand what he's saying, but I don't recite his words over and over in my head like bible verses. They're not vividly burnt in my brain anymore. That night on the hotel floor (I could say "when I hit rock bottom", but I know, and I knew, that rock bottom doesn't exist in my case; there are a lot of lows that I've hit and a lot of lows left to hit), never did I tell myself: "senti Johnny, senti come io sia disperato, come io sia folle di desiderio e di disperazione. Ho sofferto oggi, ho sofferto tutte le mie pene, tutto il mio dolore, io sono folle ora!" (shitty translation "Hear Johnny, hear how desperate I am, how mad with desire and desperation I am. I've suffered today, I've suffered all my trials, all my pain, I am mad now!") Maybe I didn't because I don't think of it as "desire" anymore; that would imply that there's an object of desire, and also makes it sound somewhat noble (plus I've gutted Love out of the equation, but it's worming its way back in). I don't romanticize the Problem anymore, I recognize it as what it is: a condition, an illness that interferes with my daily life and hinders my growth, and whose cause I am trying to find.
I can still understand him, I can understand his delirium (especially that), I can understand his gnawing delusions. But they are "muted", compared to how intensely I felt them back then. Again, it was difficult for me to perceive him as a fictional character, and it still is. I said over and over that he was my brother in fate, forever. Taking that back is technically good for me, but I feel kinda like I'm letting him down. But I know that this thought is stupid, and I feel much better with the way I am now.

also what the fuck... ↓ I realized this today

(sae-ism is the good castle because it doesnt make me want to kill myself)

I tend to think that it will be better once I move out, but I might very well be wrong. There are so many ways in which I thought it could get better, but it has never gotten better, it has just gotten equally bad but in different ways. I keep repeating that it never leaves and never changes, because it's the truth that's stuck at the center of my mind lately. No matter how I deal with it, it will always be tiring, it will always be unconfortable, it will always be painful. Like when you're trying to sleep to no avail, and you keep switching positions, but none of them ever works. I can move out and spend a lot of time and space and money on filling the void, but the entire point of the Problem is that it's a void that can't be filled, it's unrelenting, it's there forever. I keep talking about the Problem, sorry but I'll continue, this is my space and I can't talk about it anywhere else. Except that one singular time with C, but she tried to relate when she had no right to: she has another Problem, not the same as mine.
I just need to vent and dig into the Problem, lay it out on a nice clean hospital table and dissect it, and when its skin resists my scalpel, then I need to forget cleanliness and order, and claw into it and fight it bloody and send all of its body parts flying, because I know they're just gonna grow back in the end. I want to know where it comes from, I only have a few clues... A few weird things that stand out. But no clear lead. Yes, a few weird things... Why THAT? And why has it always been that? Just weird ancient monoliths that stand out, that have always been there, and I can't figure out who built them and why. Weird things. Did I "build" them myself? I think that's highly improbable. Are they random, just sprung from nothing? They could be. And again, it might just be my bewilderment in front of my child self's behaviour that makes me feel like I need answers, when maybe there are just no answers and no reason(s) why.

18 July, 2024

Yesterday I was up at night coding and chatting with H, and it occurred to me, wow. I live in bliss. The house looks so pretty with only the light from the neck light. I'm always vibing. I have H on my phone, it's just us awake, he's singing that shitty marco mengoni sanremo song that always makes me piss myself, he never fails to make me laugh and I bought the new La Sintesi record for him, they recently reunited just to put out these two new singles. (H is taking my advice right now, I'm proud of him and I can't help but worry a little, but I know nothing bad will happen, it's only because sometimes I'm very motherly with him.) I'm coding this shitty shrine and I feel like the guys at Avebury in the Neolithic except I'm doing it on neocities.org for Tohru and his imaginary lesbians. I actually love Sae-ism so much it's unreal and it can't be explained through logic or reason, I still have moments where I'm in awe it exists and I get to experience it. I'm coding and it looks like shit but who cares, what sort of problem is that? What sort of worries do I have? I'm still a minor and I'm still in high school. I can stay up all night and sleep in for as long as I want, I don't have to wake up early for school. I do my weird experiments and feel like a damn magician. I eat all the fruit I want and not worry about the price, because my mom buys it for me. I have bananas, grapes, apricots, peaches, dates. I'm eating fucking grapes man. The heat is very bad but in fall I'll plant fruit trees and they can provide food and shade, and I'll name them and hope they survive. I can go out again, wear contacts and perfume and my nice new clothes that make my happy trail stick out; I went to the city with C, we drew on each other's legs and walked around like this looking like freaks, we went to the chinese store, I bought VIALS, we scammed a scammer, and saw the sunset on the harbour from the bus. Sometimes I feel derealized and ask myself "wait what happened" and answer myself with "don't worry, something fucking great". My life objectively is bliss right now, at this moment, where I'm clicking away at my keyboard and I'm the only one up in the house. For this I feel the deepest gratitude and wonder from the bottom of my heart. So believe me, it's not because I'm ungrateful - but I can still analyze and dissect my problems. After all, this is part of me too: I am an observer at heart, a slow and pondering analyzer: "So solo che ho sempre con me la gioia profonda, sinfonica, plateale di dissezionare, analizzare, aprire, fare a pezzi le cose e i pensieri..." (quoting myself because I'm egocentric whatever) Also because truly, this is the thing that never changes, the problem that never leaves, even when all else is good.

Do you have a permanent problem, something that has always been with you and doesn't go away? If so do you ever get those moments of awareness when you realize that the problem is in fact permanent, it has been with you for your whole life, and it will be with you for the rest of your life? And every day you will have to cope with it? Accepting that it will never go away? And that you just have to live with it, your entire life, because there's no making it go away. It's something that's independent from you, from the growth of your character, from your mindset and ideals: it's just something that's there, almost implanted, like a microchip that makes you act or think in a certain way no matter your personality or your whatever else. It's just something that's there, and it stays with you, and it's always stayed with you, even as you flow through life, change, adapt, like water being poured through different containers, something never changes and it's that problem. Your behaviours change entirely, your view of yourself changes, you find and lose soulmates, you fall in and out of love with decadentism, you completely restructure the world in your mind, multiple times: only the problem remains unchanged, monolithic. The problem is the only one thing that never changes in your life. The creepy thing is that it was with you in your earliest memories. You see you and the problem together in your earliest memories. When you were a very young child, the problem was there. Maybe the problem was there before your first memory, it has been around longer than your conscience, it knows more about you than you; "I know a fuckload more than you realize".

Now you have very little in common with that child, every cell in your body has renovated itself, you have rebuilt and reattached to yourself every bit of personality like Theseus' ship, but there's a dangly piece of rusty scrap metal at your core that you can't rip out or substitute, and it's the problem. It's not something you control, it's not something that you can send away, it's not something that goes away at all. It's something that stands outside of your self. Unfazed by its evolving and revolving. With its unchanging nature and the fact that it was there at the time of your earliest memories, would you blame yourself for thinking that since it seems to be independent from your self, maybe it was caused by something that didn't depend on you? Something that put the problem inside you. The elusive Reason Why You Are Like This. Something that happened even before your earliest memories, or amongst them. Something that happened before you were six. Something as primordial, significant and theoretical as the Big Bang. Something something something, you speculate, you build castles in the air in your head, but how can you know it by yourself without any help, if it's so far back in your mind that even your memory can't reach it? And would knowing even help? What would it do? What would it mean? Would it make everything worse? Could you live with that knowledge? Is doubt better? Because girl let's be real, you could never handle it; you can't open an elementary school textbook without straining and averting your eyes. What if it doesn't exist? But what if it's there, there in the back of my mind, in the very basement of my mind where I can't reach, what if it's there and it festers and I just don't know what it is? What if I choose to avoid it - wisely, maybe - and it jumps at me anyways during a trip, and I go through hell? (No, no, uncertainty is its own hell.) All you know is that you can't know right now, and that you're sitting on the couch with the problem and it's bugging you again, and this is the way that it's been for years and years and years and all those years were made up of days exactly like this one and even worse and unutterably worse. You've written about the problem so much in the annals of your existence, and you don't know how much more metaphorical ink you will spill over the problem and in how many more words you will describe it and try to exorcise it.

Do you ever get those moments when you fully understand that the problem has been with you your whole life, it will be with you for the rest of your life, there's no asking if you can please have a break, only infinite bargaining, and the ways you can cope all fuck you up in some way or another. I'm just saying, because at this point it's not even a feeling of desperation, it's just a: oh well. I have to deal with this. But I'm sorry, I'm sorry to my twelve year old self who wondered: when am I going to stop suffering? Because the answer appears to be never, and I can't make her proud by resolving the problem and not suffering like her. Because I will suffer like her and I always will, and this is the thread that binds us together, binds us also to all the fucked up little mes that I've outgrown and that I want to leave behind forever, this is the thread that runs through my entire life, this is the one and only constant. Again, it's not desperation and anguish at this point, at least it's not right now: it's annoyance and a tired quasi-acceptance. Because what can I do at this point. Okay I can go to therapy in a few years but what the fuck is it gonna do, make me take deep breaths? I don't wanna go on meds either, I used to, but now I don't, I have to stay intact. I'll bargain with you, I'll comply and demand, I'll let you grow into a massive beast and squeeze you into the palm of my hand with all my might, I'll give in and push against, like I always have: but I can't expect you to go away.

Can the Crone even help me (and it was a crone that did me wrong, as far as I know)? Is she just the hag of death, or the lady of the labyrinth that can tell me its secrets with a smile on her face? Because even away from the Mother, I search for comfort. Don't I do it all because of comfort? Idk because it's been feeling like torture for some years.

Idk it's just mindboggling to me that I'm always feeling the exact same thing that I always felt when I was twelve, and that it will never change. When I was fourteen I wrote something like: when I'll be older I'll be so exhausted because of this that I'll be a shell of a human being, I won't be able to go on, I'll just turn to dust or something. Six months ago I told myself: I was right about that. Now I tell myself: I went on though, I'm still going on now, and I'll have to keep doing it because I'm not going to spontaneously combust. I have to deal with it, because it won't go away, and I won't either - I think, for now. I got dealt this bad hand, I'm at a disadvantage, and I have to deal with it. Simple. That's all I know right now.

song for tonight. why did auroro go so hard on it. was it a real breakup

12 July, 2024

Everything went great with H! He's my best friend after all.

LET'S GO TO THE BEACH EACH LET'S GO GET AWAY, THEY SAY WHAT THEY GOTTA SAY. Since I can swim now, I went back to the sea and the mountain!! Swam....... And took my hardshell kayak for a ride. Aaaaah, the hardshell! I forgot how orgasmic it is to drive my hardshell! Way more stable, way slimmer, way more comfy, way faster! It's effortless to paddle when you're not tired yet, it glides and cuts through the water like butter. She's an hardshell! so she won't give up on me easily, and I can drag her across the rocks and leave her stuck there to dive in the water on my own; she's trusty, and scratches are a mark of honor! And she's bright banana yellow, possibly my favourite color. I should really go down and paddle with her more often, it's worth it. And maybe name her too?

I took my time and I went farther than I've ever been - I'm not skilled or strong though, so it was not much. But I just enjoy it yknow. Aaaah, the hardshell! Fast, smooth and strong. I mean, fast when you're not tired. I looked at the mountain from the sea again, her spectacular cliffs; the water around here is much clearer. At some point I noticed I had a spider on me. Of course I wanted to send him away but we were in the middle of the sea, I was kind of his lifeboat. How did you get here??? I paddled to the shore and put him on there on the ground, where with some effort he could climb, reach the vegetation overhead and build himself a nice home.
I stopped sometimes in beaches or between rocks, and in this one beach, where the water was so clear it looked almost nonexistant, some bavose (how do you say it english - "blennies"? Beatiful elegant slippery fish who glide on the ocean floor, very common around here) started swimming very close and even attached to my legs, so I kept perfectly still for them. They are notoriously skittish and flee at the smallest movement or shadow on the water, so I didn't expect that.

I found a cave on the water!! A slit at the base of the cliff. Caves are sacred places, so I got close. I didn't get in though, it was very narrow and I was afraid to get stuck (idk if it's even possible but whatever). A sacred place indeed - as soon as I got enveloped by the darkness, I was scared shitless!!! Pomodori di mare on the walls as expected. I've done this route before, I wonder why I had never seen that cave. Maybe it's also because I think about the Crone so much lately. The spider, the cave, the wild and dark mountain, the labyrinth, delirium, Datura, descent, katabasis, the dark crawling mass, "the wide-awake nightmare", pushing through. I think the Crone would like Went Missing by Placebo. Btw I'm planning a webpage for pictures...... so you'll get to see the mountain and everything eventually

I went far (for my strength and skill level, and for the fact that I've done nothing physical for three weeks) and by the time I decided to come back, I had lost my steam and I had finished my water. I was DESTROYED, so I whispered a prayer to the mountain to grant me a safe return. I helped the spider, so will you help me? Sorry if I stuttered, I don't usually pray. It was hard but I got back. It was hard but worth it. It is so so beautiful. Being out there in the wide sea paddling, and seeing yourself and your kayak so small compared to the cliffs before you, really makes you feel like a child of the mountain. But I wonder if I can call myself that? I live and I've always lived among the soft rolling hills, sunlit wheat fields and friendly young fruit trees, I'm not really familiar with her wilderness. I'm not as skilled as the old men who harvest mussels or as their sons who open and clean them; not as brave and strong as those same sons who dive headfirst in the sea from the rocks after a day's work; not as familiar and loving as my grandfather who visits her everyday (fuck what psychonauts say, alcohol has a spirit too and it has the bright laughing face of an old man); not as pious as the Paleolithic worshipers who climbed her to carve vulvas, bull-heads and water-meanders on her rocks. But even though I got my safe return, it was my shoulders that pushed to bring me back; and my ancestresses who were healers and shamans would probably be pretty stoked to try my extractions. Anyways I'm not hers, very probably. But I do admire her and want to know her better.

I haven't been able to shave my legs in the past weeks so I let nature take its course. I'd like to stop shaving my legs one day, so what if I do it now instead of procrastinating, and just let them do their thing? Personally I feel damn fine. I love looking like mama bear with my PCOS swag. I'm just worried about going in the city; it's okay at the beach and places like that, but in the city there are all the other young people and I'm kinda worried about what they will think or do. But I did go to my sister's graduation with hairy ass legs a few days ago, so I can technically do whatever I want at this point. <- Pic related, I don't know who made this image sorry, I found it uncredited on tumblr......

Talking about the city: I really want to go to the city. I want to buy a cheap shoddy made-in-China waterproof cover for my phone, one of those covers that you can plunge underwater to take a pic or a video. The city is the place to buy cheap shoddy made-in-China things. Ooo yeah. C knows the city very well and I can't get enough of her telling me about all the bus routes. I fucking love buses. I used to dislike the city - how can I now that I know it, the place of infinite buses and Japanese soda and vending machines and sushi restaurants and fancy expensive fish restaurants and graffiti and stickers and rows of oleander and long wide boulevards and scorching sun and smog and cheap shoddy made-in-China products and cheap used book libraries and Christmas and crepes and laughs and shops and cigarettes and fountains and ports and radio towers and the night?? She's not as decrepit as everyone thinks, she smiles wide, then as she splits and thickens up into mountain paths and pine forests she grows fangs and her pupils become slits! I love the city now and I want to know her better, too.

Cigarettes! The city is my father's city, he has always smoked and I have always associated the smell of smoke with him and the city: a warm, enveloping, comforting scent. I have always loved it, and that's how I knew I was going to start smoking (so stop smoking before you have kids). Then of course walking around with H, scrambling for a tobacco shop's vending machine with my sister's ID in hand, and drunken chicken hamburgers with a side of cigarettes at the fair. I still have some left but I'm thinking I should quit. I'm not addicted yet, but I'm starting to crave it more and more. I don't know, right now at the moment of writing I feel like I can and should quit now before it gets bad. But idk if I'll keep that resolve. I like smoking......................................... And I like the smell too much. And maybe I can keep it occasional and avoid getting addicted?? Said everyone ever yeah I know. I really should finish this pack (I paid for it anyways) and not buy anymore after that. I really should do that. FUTURE SELF: DO THAT!!

The chicken burger fair night was really influential on me btw because I started liking smoking that night. Before, I loved the smell, but I found smoking kinda sucky. I don't know if it was the drunkness or the chicken burger but I started liking it so much. I stole so many cigs from H that night. And that's also when I started to bestemmiare (for english people: it's when you say porco dio). I almost never said bestemmie before that night, and there wasn't a gradual change: overnight I started to bestemmiare like a camionista for no reason, and I never stopped since. The two things were probably connected too, like me saying porcoddio che buone. Massive steps forward in my journey to become a maranza

PSA: invest in sunglasses, buy a reusable water bottle and start drinking tap water!!

I always say I want Pornokrates to leave but it's even more depressing and lonely when she's not here. When you desecrate everything you can't feel the lack of holiness and meaning in your life.

11 July, 2024

H is coming over today and I'm kinda afraid like I said that the conversation's gonna be dry and all that. I don't want to lose our friendship.

Yesterday I tried a little bit of my LSA extract because 1) it was the anniversary of my first ever trip 2) I am a SCIENTIST and I have to test my shit!!! I said to myself "oh I'm not in the mood to trip, I'll take a very low dose just to check if it works, and everyone says that p/np extractions aren't potent so it won't do anything and I'll be pissed"<- famous last words. Okay let me preface with: I'm not the type of person who necessarily believes what happens during trips is "real". The insufferable shitheads that call themselves "psychonauts" pull shit out of their ass all the time with the excuse of "I saw it during a trip", and I don't want to be so arrogant. At some point I closed my eyes and I equated the black space behind my closed eyelids with the black space inside my cranium, so I was inside my cranium. At that point I felt like I was able to communicate with LSA/Ipomoea/Ololiuhqui, since she was physically in my brain. In this black space the words that I thought were as audible as actually spoken words (which is weird for me since I have abstract, almost wordless thoughts), they were booming, loud, creating spirals and vibrating triangles with every breath, and I could feel her presence in front of me. I greeted her repeatedly with all the warmth and respect from the bottom of my heart - if psychs will want to accuse me of something, it surely won't be impiety - and I asked her a few questions from the back of my mind. What do you think of us humans? Do you hate us for eating your seeds? She was there, I felt it, but she just wouldn't answer. She never answered and at one point I just opened my eyes to get out. She had this aura of detachment and tired decrepitude. Now, again, I know that what happens in trips isn't necessarily real. But this is just something that's interesting to think about, and that I've been asking myself. It's instinctive to think that the plant has a good disposition towards humans, for allowing us to share of its powers and have such experiences. But who says that this is true? especially when it implies eating or otherwise using the plant's seeds, its way of reproduction and ensuring survival of its species. And this goes not only for Ololiuhqui/Ipomoea, but also for every other plant that we use and eat. Idk, think corn or wheat. Sure, they ensure our survival/make us feel great. But who says that they love us, since we hurt them? Who can expect such sense of self-sacrifice? From a plant, at that. I don't know. And would that be the spirit of Ipomoea or the spirit of LSA. Are they the same thing. LSA is also technically produced by a fungus, where would it fit in the equation. Also I'm surprised, I thought she would be more like the Maiden. Maybe it's only because I think about the Crone so much.

(product placement) Bonomelli fredde infusioni is saving my life. Something tasty and icy to drink but way healthier than soda. A miracle. I've been doing stuff! As a very lazy person I'm proud of that. I couldn't bring myself to fire up the oven though. Today there is the worst heat I have EVER felt in my LIFE. Everyone in the house agrees that the fan has to stay on at all times and follow us everywhere (we don't have ac). I'm sweating here just doing nothing. I should have planted stronger plants - I'm already planning for next spring. Wild dagga is NOT drought/heat-tolerant!!!!!!!!! She wilts every single day and I have to water her every single day!!!! One of them is starting to get woody at the base, but she's not nearly as resilient as I thought. Harvested carrots yesterday, they did way better than I thought! Thrilled for next spring already, but I'm not WAITING for it since you should NEVER wait for something especially in the far future, and just consume the time you have right now in waiting. Idk I'm just worried about time.

I was stalking Tohru's twitter (not x, fuck you) as usual, aka only reason I have twitter (an open source frontend of twitter actually) (🤓) and he said this: "I looked back at my tweets and it looks like I've been bragging about my poor health all month or so since early June... [...] So, let's avoid tweeting things like bragging about being unhealthy. They say illness begins from the mind." I am crying and shaking and convulsing on the floor. This would have healed 15 year old me. Tohru I love you. "You think he's daddy to me but he's more than daddy, he's like grandpa".

7 July, 2024

Feelin fine like I wasn't spliced open on an operating table two weeks ago! I had written down a list of things to do during this recovery, and among them was: coding. I thought I could do a bit of everything on that list. Then I started coding. I was ignoring the fact that if you give coding just a little bit of your time and attention, it will DEVOUR your ENTIRE DAYS (or at least that's how it is for me), so I've done nothing but that (along with assorted slacking off and losing my mind). Earlier I was making some media queries for different devices, I was all excited, then I came to a point where the page just looked awful no matter what I did, so my soul just left my body and I rolled over and feel asleep. I still can't fix it btw WHO THE FUCK USES COMPUTERS THAT ARE ONLY 1000 PIXELS WIDE ANYWAYS???? LIKE SERIOUSLY FUCK OFF you and your """""computer""""". NOBODY USES THEM RIGHT??? RIGHT???????? That page in general ended up looking kinda shitty (even with decent screen sizes), and I feel bad about it because it's about a thing that I really love and care about. But maybe I need to keep in mind that quote "don't let perfect be the enemy of good". Maybe I'm just being too harsh on myself and I need to let myself make ugly stuff that I feel like making, instead of beating myself down and making nothing at all even when I feel inspired.

Tried a decent dose of my tincture and it didn't work! But according to calculations it should have been an active dose! Oh woe! It's not about the original material because oil made from it works very well, but I really care about this tincture. Plus nobody will tell me what's the yield loss with polar/nonpolar extractions! Oh woe! Creating always has a component of heartbreak, when your dear creations aren't what you intended them to be. But maybe this is also me being too impatient.

Then H. I'm kinda worried about me and H. I'm worried we're kinda drifting apart. Okay I was writing this EXACT SAME THING last summer and it wasn't actually happening, it was just me being paranoid. I guess the fact that I don't see him everyday like I used to at school makes me doubtful. But maybe there was something slightly weird going on even during school? After the school trip? I don't know if it's just a feeling of mine, or an actual reality. Doesn't help that he's a really bad texter (what the fuck should I call it) - I haven't seen him in a month between surgery and all that, and we've kept in contact through texting, but he's BAD at it, he's DRY. Tho i know for a fact that it's not just with me, he acts like this with everyone. I'm gonna invite him soon, we're gonna watch a shitty movie about shaolin soccer and I hope, I really hope it's gonna be alright, like always. I really don't want to lose what I have with him. He has always been my best friend; out of all the friends I had, he understood me the most, he GOT me, he was the only person I had ever known that could understand me that well and whom I could vibe with so hard; and I know for a fact he felt the same way about me. We were a match made in heaven, we harmonised so well, we were the loud ones in class, we were in syntony. I hope it's still like that. Again, I was writing this exact same shit last summer and it wasn't true. But I'm kinda insecure right now.

Crazy Love by Marracash is a fire song BUT I can't actually listen to it because he's singing about him and Elodie fucking freaky style like bunnies and waking up their neighbors in their actual real life relationship that happened and I don't want to imagine it because they're everywhere... I'VE BEEN A NASTY GIRL NASTY slaps (and I do listen to it) but the hordes of 14 year old boys in the comments saying "can't let gang know i fw this 😂😂😂" piss me off, you're so funny and original can I listen to a song without being reminded that men think of women's sexual activity as inherently demeaning. Thank you

OH AND GUYSSS GUYSSS I SAW A BOAR A FEW DAYS AGO!! BOAR!!!! This is big for me because my zone has a lot of boars, and I've always heard people talking continuously about boars, BOARS ALL THE TIME, but I had never actually seen one and felt like I was missing out. I was just looking out the car window and there was a gigantic boar in a field of cut wheat... I screamed "ODDIO!!!! CINGHIALE!!!! CINGHIALE!!!! PORCA TROIA!!!!!". I'm really happy I got to see a boar, it's basically a rite of passage here, everyone has done it.

Sorry again for the jekyll and mr hyde type shit, but no kidding: I'm half laid-back, placid and blissful, and half neurotic, hunted down, extremely stressed and about to snap at everyone. In general, not just lately. Datura and Ololiuqui were considered sisters... That beautiful prayer to Datura went like: "I call to you, my mother, she who is of the beautiful water! Who is the god, or who has the power to break and consume my magic? Come here, sister of the green woman Ololiuqui"... Datura and Ololiuqui were considered sisters... That's something worth expanding upon, worth diving into, I could write my personal bible on that, it looks like it holds the key.

My current view on life is that I can't let any moment pass me by, even the bad painful excruciating ones, and wishing for time to pass is the most idiotic and arrogant thing ever, because I'm gonna miss every one of these days when I'm grown up, even the most boring ones, even the worst ones.

Is somebody gonna match my freak. Is somebody gonna match my freak. Is somebody gonna match my nastayy

GONNA GET AN E-READER SOON and the I'm gonna rip through my to-read list

4 July, 2024

Stitches off!!! By next week I'll be able to do whatever I want. I think. For the entirety of June the sea has been shitty with algae blooms, but I hope that next week will be: algae OUT, cellula IN. Maybe my half-shitty mental state is at least partly caused by having been homebound for 2 weeks. I hope it'll get better as I recover.

I'm thinking about my bagolaro, celtis australis - what happened to her? She was in my backyard and me and my sister loved her so much. We'd pretend to cook with her berries. I was so attached to her that when we had to cut her down (because her roots were about to fuck up the house) I just curled up in a ball in my room and cried super hard for the whole day. (See, I've always been a treehugger.) Where is she now? Not her body, I know that she's wood chips somewhere and her stump is still in my garden. I mean her soul. Is she somewhere near? Does she remember me? Her roots might still be under the house, maybe partly decomposed, right now, under the floor I walk on, under the kitchen floor, right now, as syrian rue smoke drifts from the pot. This shit is GREEN! Like alien puke green. Stains everywhere. Fuck

Guys. Do you give names to your things. Tell me what names you've given to your things and why. Comment or shoot me an email. Pls. I've named my coffee grinder Fausto because one day I was using him to grind idk stuff while listening to Suicidio by Faust'o and it just stuck. My milligram scale is called Lenka because it was the name of a beloved tumblr mutual of mine who had gone on hiatus, so I named my scale after her in her honor. I should name my kayak too, maybe. One time I saw a small, gnarly, run-down, super fucked up boat that had "SCLEROSI MULTIPLA" written on her, "Multiple sclerosis", so it must have been her name. It was EXHILARATING and I am IN LOVE with it. It fit so much because the boat was in very bad shape, plus it was such a huge twist on normal boat names, which are normally shit like "rosa" or "sea lion" or whatever the fuck. Sclerosi multipla. I could give a similar name to my kayak because it's a cheap inflatable one.

Could I call it CUT HANDS? Like the Whitehouse song? That would be cool but maybe it would be more fitting for hardshells and real boats. I don't know, Cut Hands is ROUGH! I can probably decide only after a bit more paddling.

3 July, 2024

Sorry, the nights are hellish and I just get the urge to write bad shit off the top of my head. In 10 years of friendship, me and C have never talked about this until today. I didn't need even more fear of my dark deliriant perverse child psyche. C, stop, no, no, no, I don't want to hear this, stop, no, no. I saw a bit of that in her. I love her, but I see a bit of myself, a bit of myself that I hate, a bit of myself that I left/want to leave behind, in her.

Even though we might have been similar in some way, I had to push her off of me, at least mentally, when she tried to relate to me. Not just out of fear: I think I'm overall correct when I say that she can't understand. What does her daddy-issues attention-seeking Omegle misery parade have to do with me? Does she know how quiet a proper desperate victimized breath can get? Does she know that it doesn't begin that late? Does she know that there's no off-switch in slimy nice guys from Milan and romantic car handjobs? Does she know that there's no off-switch except hospital bloodletting? Who's gonna tell her about twitching and relapsing on a cold hard hotel floor with three other people and a relentless masochistic mindworm? Who's gonna tell her about the mindworm? Who's gonna tell her how it really is? "I'll show you what's it like not to have hands / And I'll show you how to hold on tight / I'll show you how to piss on your own bedclothes / And sit in a closet / You'll learn to sweat while unconscious / And I'll show you the electric stick / You'll learn about the kitty-cut / [...] I'll show you the wide-awake nightmare".

"I'll show you what's it like not to have hands / And I'll show you how to hold on tight", that's what it feels like sometimes.

I'm supposed to get my stitches removed tomorrow if everything goes well, but the doctor told me that I'll have to spend another week at rest. I can think about the mountain again. I wonder if I'll be able to camp in those beaches - I'll only do it if they are empty, I hope that no other drunk frat boys have had the same idea. But I don't think they'd want to do the whole hike, and they'll probably be at the club, not listening to the mountain.

One thing that gets me up is thinking how I went from agonizing over the lack of a plug to making zeo tek and knowing about polar/nonpolar solvents and treating my tinctures as if they were my babies, and laying in bed wasted listening to Kali Uchis and talking like the bald kid from dragonball. It just feels nice to see that I've done something good for myself, for ONCE.

2 July, 2024

Again, I can't decide whether I live in bliss or in torment. Will you lengthen these sunny days? Will you release me from this suffering? Pulled back and forth in a divine-incestuous thread (Am I corrupting my view of the universe itself with all the nuclear waste buildup in my brain? No, no, no). Everything is sacred and everything is morbid. "She's going there", uttered by friendly faces on the hill and by a frightened conscience in the dusty garage. The dream-park and the walled-up room. Soothing rain and pathological dryness. Dry dry dry. I don't know if I'm really in the bowels of the labyrinth, sometimes it really feels like it, sometimes not. Am I in the embrace of the Mother or in the bowels of the Crone. Is this some sort of lesson so I can accept paradox??? Is this what it is??? Goddess pranking me rn (gone wrong). She's sly if this is true. Once in a lecture at school I heard that there was this Greek tragedy idk what it's called but a chorus of women sang that they wished they were birds, so that they could fly and see the labyrinth from above, the whole path. Now I fully understand and I would sing it too. Why are nights so distressing. I feel like I'm living inside a medieval allegory.

Might make a list of the Symptoms (remoti e prossimi) but I'm so so damn tired of sickness, I used to be in love with her, maybe I still am and this is just a temporary lover's quarrel, but right now I'm so damn tired of sickness and I want to get away from her as soon as possible. Maybe I'll fall back in love with her in winter, but physical sickness I think, NOT psychological sickness, ego sickness, I'm so done with her. And if I think about winter, I think about going back to school and learning about the sicknesses of people that were sick a long long time ago, now buried, and memorizing those sicknesses and absorbing them and getting rewarded if I do it well enough. I don't know if I can escape sickness.

30 June, 2024

tw: csa mention (that might have happened)

nsfw

Sorry if this is offensive or silly. I've thought about it all day and there's a vague possibility that something might have happened during my childhood. Of course I'm not making assumptions, and I'm not saying it really happened, I'm just thinking that it could be a possibility. I looked at the full picture: earlier I was focusing on the sexual stuff I did as a kid, and I focused on it because it's the only thing that hasn't gotten better at all; but I had many other abnormal behaviours, that I've outgrown now but that were big problems back then, and most importantly, that I don't think can be explained with "I was just freaky like that"; things like anger issues, getting physically violent often, extreme outbursts, eating disorders, threatening suicide and self harm even years before actually developing suicidal ideation etc etc. I was a deeply troubled child, I don't think "oh I was just a weird kid 😜" suffices anymore. Maybe I'm wrong and it actually suffices. I don't know, again, I'm just stumbling in the dark. Also some lifelong fears/negative feelings that make completely no sense, feeling uncomfortable and paralyzed in a place that you've been to 993839 times and that should be familiar, to the point of being unable to perform basic functions, extreme fear of judgement and of being observed even in a physically isolated place, etc etc. There are just so many things that I can't explain if I go with the assumption that "I was just a weird kid" and nothing happened to me. The weird stuff I mentioned earlier doesn't seem to be enough to justify all of this, either. I think there are three possibilities

1) Nothing influenced me and I just did all that stuff spontaneously

2) The weird stuff I mentioned had more of an influence on me than I thought and it caused all of those things, but nothing more happened

3) Something else happened that I don't remember, which could be anything from relatively innocuous weird stuff to more serious stuff, and it caused all of those things. Though I have no evidence it actually happened, and likely never will. I have no clue what it might be, likely something sexual because why would I be doing that stuff in kindergarten. Also that means, if it happened, it happened before or during that period so that's why I wouldn't remember. I have no clue who might have done it, my parents had very few friends.

And anyways I will never have evidence that it happened and I'll never know for sure. But the more I think about it, the more I think I should consider it as a possibility. Again, I'm not assuming anything. There's the very possible possibility that I'm just massively overreacting. I don't know if this entry makes sense because honestly I'm a little agitated thinking about this. It's daunting, I've been getting these pangs of horror, not the regret-contempt I felt before (since if I look at it like this, child me wasn't just a disease-ridden something sprung from Freud's pen, but an actual person that got wronged). Again, maybe/probably I'm overreacting. It's daunting to just face the possibility of it. Earlier today I was thinking that my only way to discover repressed memories might be using psychs and just exploring the matter trying to uncover something; like, I was meaning to get DMT, and I might be able to grow shrooms if I don't fuck up the colonization stage and lose them to contam, but I'm not sure I want to get deeper than this. I might really discover something and it might be more serious than I thought, and it might change my life for the worse. And knowing won't change anything anyways, won't it. But maybe now I have to go deeper, despite what I feel.

I don't know. The labyrinth is a dark winding path. Did some research. One guy said: I recommend free writing. I checked some of my earlier pieces and went hmmmm. Maybe it isn't a coincidence that my affinity for delirium developed at the same time I began thinking more about my childhood and its heritage. I don't know. Yapping. Something something the myth of Dionysus represented the fact that no matter which horrors happen salvation is always waiting at the end. Idk I read that in The encyclopedia of psychoactive plants. I don't know anymore.

I still fucking suck at graphic design

"There are not enough details / There are no fucking details / No facts / Just the loud noted absence / Some titillating history / Some family snaps / No bruises / No cuts nor plaster casts / No black eyes / No tears nor hospital white linen fetish gear / Where's the reflection? / It's not there / Not over all those sensible clothes / Not on those puckered gumps / You'll have to make it up / Fantasise the details / Force the obvious"

It's night now and some nights I feel like I'm losing my mind. There has never been a place so comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. The hill is good, but the house! The house is the devil! And it's not a normal teenage desire for privacy either. Everything inside these walls echoes with sexual neuroses. I did mention spiders, almost imperceptible touches and walls closing in a few times. Writing as a sort of shamanistic practice through which I receive information from the subconscious? It helps to think of it all as not a bad deliriant trip of sorts but as a passage through the depths of the labyrinth, at the center of which there is truth and knowledge. But I don't think I can handle many more years of this.

29 June, 2024

tw: csa mention (that didn't happen)

I did end up putting my hands into the crawling mass, at least a little. I genuinely tried to remember as many things as I could, to find answers; but everything gives rise only to further questions. I am alone in grappling with all of this, all I have are a few more-or-less confused memories that are surely only the tip of the iceberg, and of course I can't ask anyone and draw attention to the stuff I used to do. I need to keep thinking that my current situation is not cosmic punishment for my past actions or something like that; it's just natural, deep regret and horror at the way I used to be when I was very little, and at the fact that SHE IS ME, that child is me, I did all that, for apparently no reason at all.

And that's what haunts me the most: the lack of a reason. I recognize that regret is useless and to "atone" I just need to do good stuff and shit. But the question of WHY? remains unsolved and looming above me. Because it's not just in the past, it's something that affects me right now, it's something that crucifies me right now, it's something that has always made me struggle so much, and it originates there. And if I could find out WHY? why am I like this? I'd have hopes of resolving it. But I have no clue, I genuinely have no clue. I keep wondering if I was molested, because it's logically the most probable thing that could be at the basis of those very abnormal behaviours, but the answer appears to be no. There was no one near me that could have done that, my parents had very few friends, and I remember nothing, so probably no. Weird stuff happened to me and it may have affected me a bit, but it was not full-blown molestation, and most importantly there was very probably no sexual intention behind it. Of course it's a good thing that I wasn't molested. And I'm very sorry to say this: but. If there's no actual external reason as to why I was like that, then that leaves me with: I was like that, full stop. Without a reason: I just was like that, I AM like that, spontaneously. It all depended on me, nothing coerced me into it, I did all that stuff out of my own volition, completely umprompted. I was literally the fucking devil incarnate as a very young child, INNATELY. I was evil and depraved at such a young age SPONTANEOUSLY. That was, and is? my sincere nature. I'm struggling against an innate thing. I'm trying to override an innate characteristic. An innate thing keeps me from becoming who I want to be. Then how can I get over it. I don't know, it's deeply discouraging. I'm sorry for this offensive, edgy ass jekyll and mr hyde type rant. It's just something that I've always wondered since turning 12, something that has always reared its ugly head and resurfaced even if I tried to push it down, something that I need to resolve but can't.

Maybe I just need to let it go and accept that there was no reason, accept that I can't resolve the problem because it's innate, just try to keep it under control and say marvel one-liners when I relapse into those behaviours. "So that just happened 😂😂😂" and then move on. Whatever. I don't know, maybe I just need to leave it behind me and accept its heritage without complaining or investigating much.

I FUCKING SUCK AT GRAPHIC DESIGN!!!

28 June, 2024

Sometimes I'm good sometimes not. Sometimes I'm doing very good but then when I focus on my situation, on the sounds, I'm aware of the delirium. The long dark hallway. And I wonder how I ended up here, why, if and how I'll ever get out, if I deserve it. I guess this is the Big Existential Question I'm Grappling With, this year or so. In all caps; the Big Existential Question that will decide life or death or life-in-death, the leitmotif that runs through my whole life, the thing that has always made me struggle, something Unimaginably Important, the Bigger Picture, the Big Problem, that I have to face in Absolute Loneliness, as Ontologically Alone as I am.

Last year I had another Big Existential Question I'm Grappling With and it was the battle between health and sickness. After a year or so I thought it was bullshit. Maybe I'll end up the same way in another year. But right now I feel like this is important, like my whole life has been a deliriant trip and I'm just beginning to realize it, just beginning to see that this is the thread that runs into my past and connects me to the child I was and her dark, incomprehensible mind; I feel like this is the gordian knot that has decided my past and will decide my fate, but I have no clue how to undo it, and I don't know what to use to cut through it. And to follow that thread, I would have to stumble in the dark and put my hands into the crawling mass. God no. I don't even remember what's in there. I don't even know if there's actually something to untie, to resolve, or if the situation just is, without explanation, without possibility of changing. Maybe I should listen to McKenna, "five grams in silent darkness", "the abyss is a feather bed", but would psychs hate me, destroy me? I feel like they would, with how I feel right now. I wish there was a reason, I wish there was something horrible that started all of this, as bad as it sounds. I know. There might have been such a thing, but the possibilities are low. I don't remember anything like that. I came through unscathed - how? And then how did I end up like that? Idk, just having this moment of doubt. But lately I've also been loving and coding and listening to the crickets.

Would it be narcissistic and douchey to just accept it and say "yeah I was a massive asshole, I'm still kind of an asshole right now, I feel kind of uncomfortable being in that same environment and dealing with the same people and situations, I do/think stuff that I can't understand, but it's no big deal"? The Datura is a sacred plant, the labyrinth is a winding dark path, vultures were worshiped in Catal Huyuk, after all. Is it arrogant to think like that, and that I can be forgiven and that I can just move on? That it's natural and it'll get better with time? And maybe I'm not Ontologically Alone as I thought, for example Brian Molko seems to understand: "Crash into me with spiders"... "I've got urges I don't understand"...

27 June, 2024

It's funny how I constantly switch between thinking "Aaah, all good, I live submerged in the bliss inherent to existence, my life is perfect, I am in the right place, everything happens at the right time and in the right order - it's weird though, I'm kind of a bad person, where is my punishment?" and thinking "I am a deeply depraved beast that has been crawling through a deliriant nightmare for all my life, but I have realized this only recently; I will always carry the ugly thoughts and wrongdoings of my child self with me, and I'm cursed to relive and reenact them; nobody would ever be able to bear the weight of such a life, except for me". And then switch back, again clueless to what my punishment is. The crime IS the punishment. Or: the crime and the punishment spring from the same thing. Relevant screenshot.

Also I had understood incorrectly: the stitches AREN'T coming apart, it's just that the depressed Caparezza lookalike gnome I have for a doctor doesn't know how to speak!!!! It was just that the wound was cicatrizing weird, but it's not anymore! So I'm on the right track to recovery and I was dramatic over nothing (as I always am).

I didn't realize it was the 27th. It's comfortable, living in non-time. Everything was? is? good, doing nothing and writing and coding and listening to the songs of the crickets in the evening. Until I felt, and acted on the basis of, that thing I felt, and acted on the basis of, when I was 11 and have been horrified of ever since. So yay?? I'm conflicted about whether I want those childhood ghosts to leave or not. After all, everything felt stronger when it was novelty - and haven't I been chasing stronger, and stronger and stronger. I should be able to stop here, but thinking about how it came back with full force scares me - maybe it's cyclic: maybe I'm like that, then I try to grow out of being like that, and then I'm like that again. Falling back into it after years... I hope it's not cyclic.

The big question is: WHEN WILL I BE A NORMALLY FUNCTIONING HUMAN BEING???? Yes growth depends on me I know, and I'm trying, and I've made progress, but that something is both horrible AND immutable inside of me. It's both challenging to the kind of person I want to become, AND immutable. It exists and manifests itself, unprovoked. I had it in kindergarten. But maybe I've got it wrong, and the truth is that the THING is immutable, but the WAYS in which it manifests itself are changeable and depend on me, and I can choose to channel the thing in healthier ways. BUT I'm too scared (scared shitless, in fact) and lazy to do it. BUT it's not just that, it's not just my fault: I honestly, sincerely don't know how, in what ways. I don't know if they even exist. I've never heard of them from anyone else. I don't know. The most important thing right now is that it doesn't happen again. Yeah.

Yeah I know, I can feel everyone's common sense screaming at me "GO TO THERAPY". First of all I'm not telling a therapist what happened, I'm not telling anyone what happened, I'm not telling MYSELF what happened - I know but I don't articulate it to myself. But most importantly, what if the thing is not a mental problem like I tend to think, or even a hormonal problem? What if it isn't in fact immutable and independent to my personality? What if it depends on me, and the reason for everything is that actually I'm just a MASSIVE ASSHOLE and a deeply evil person? I couldn't deal with it. I haven't had real organized suicidal thoughts in a year now, but I would actually kill myself I think.

Spicy pasta al pesto is very good.

24 June, 2024

Things are getting worse, the stitches are bursting open and it's probable that the wound will get infected. It basically doesn't depend on me at this point, it's an unfortunate spot to get operated on. I might spend the whole summer homebound and unable to do most stuff. I hope that at least the infection won't hurt. What saddens me is the lack of liturgy. There must have been songs sung to Inanna, or Cybele, or Astarte, or the Great Goddess of Crete, by her daughters and sons when they felt most dejected. And they must have gone through worse things than me. One of those songs could heal me right now, "one drop would save my soul - half a drop. Ah, my Goddess! Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Goddess!" At the beginning of the summer I quoted Faustus and now I have to do it again. But no matter what happens, I have to stay grateful, because when I'll be an adult I will miss each one of the days from my youth, even these ones, when I spend the day writing and coding, with the songs of the crickets coming from the window in the evening, and my biggest worry being whether the site's coming out pretty enough or not, and whether Tohru is gonna make those two fuck or not.

Afternoon naps where you mostly remain submerged in hypnagogia, never quite falling in deep sleep, are magical. They can be very fun or scarier than nightmares, because what you hear, see, or think about can't be blamed entirely on your subconscious. I woke up with the rolling guitar from Aria (at 2:27, but please listen to it all if you can) playing loudly in my head. That beautiful, comforting song reminds me of my first meeting with LSA, and it was almost like a kiss on the forehead by her. Which reminds me, that's really too much time with the polar solvent - but I couldn't have done otherwise. I hope she's still there.

I have to keep oleanders in mind. If I don't have brugmansias near my home, at least I have the blessing of being neighbors with two oleander bushes... No two oleanders are alike. Some smell smoky, some don't smell at all, and some smell like powdered sugar, like one I met while going to the hospital: it had pure white flowers like sugar, too. So many colors they can have. The most beautiful oleander in the world is one that's growing near my home, I think. She's massive. And that color... She's a shade of pink and yellow so beautiful I can't even explain, it's like a sunset at barbie's tropical beach house. That's the best way I can put it. One day I'm gonna post a picture.

23 June, 2024

My love for things overflows

VOLARE CON TE VOLARE CON TE IO VOGLIO TE PERCHÉ SEI TUTTO ME....... SOGNARE PERCHÉ SOGNARE PERCHÉ SEI TE CHE FAI BATTERE IL CUORE A ME..................... (please skip to 1:47)

22 June, 2024

Hope my stitches don't burst, not only because I'll have to spend more time homebound but also because the doctor who does my dressing and shit is like Caparezza's unemployed disillusioned angry son and he will unleash his wrath on me

Ipomoea, you get three more days with the polar solvent! probably

mc cavallo io sono a cavallo tu meglio che esci dal ballo

21 June, 2024

I'm done with surgery!!! The actual surgery was okay, they noticed I was nervous so they just... dosed me without my consent with a sedative through my dripfeed? First they said "if you're scared we can give you this sedative blah blah blah" and I was like no thank you I can handle it. Then they noticed I kept saying random shit because I was nervous. Then I started feeling weird and I said: did you sedate me and they said: yeah. I guess they just gave it to everyone, since the woman who was in the same room as me also came back high as fuck from the operating room. It felt like a mix of alcohol, deliriants (because my vision was murky and dark and I saw white boxes with gold stripes in them, even though they weren't really there) and how people describe nitrous, I was cheerful and giggly and my speech was slurred and I laughed like a hyena as the doctors flipped me over, and I remember almost nothing.

Anyways what came after the surgery was hellish because it was hot as fuck, I couldn't walk, and the god damn dripfeed was so uncomfortable in my vein... My roommate was friendly though. Romanian girls are unforgettable hospital gown dripfeed on top (like... like the song california girls do you get it guys...). Trying to sleep was a true ordeal. Then I got up in the night and I started feeling awful, like low low low low pressure and extreme nausea, and I just fell on the floor. When they removed the dripfeed I cried like a baby (it didn't even hurt, I was just esaurita), and then we got out of the hospital, and while we were walking towards the car my mom started recounting the tragic love story of two lesbian mafia bosses and I was about to cry again, but I held back. When I got home I just walked around the living room like a shellshocked veteran for a bit. Now I'm okay because I'M OUT OF THE HOSPITAL!!!

Now I have two weeks/one month of recovery until they remove my stitches,.. yaaaaaayyy... I have this uncomfortable wound, I can't do sudden movements with my legs, I can't do certain movements, I can't crouch, I can't sit, or else the wound might burst open. I can't sweat much, I can't do physical activity, I'm basically homebound, I can't even shower or bathe properly; so essentially I'm getting a 2 week free trial of what it's like to be a world of warcraft player. I'm gonna get through it. And maybe....... WORK ON MY SITE...!!!!!!!!!! idk its kinda uncomfortable to be on the laptop like this

I hope I can properly meet LSA one day. I've been thinking about her, I don't know. I hope that she's forgiven me and that she's kind to me.

Ipomoea, you get two more days with the polar solvent

18 June, 2024

GRUELING.... HIKE........ THIS MORNING...... I went to my beach at the bottom of the mountain again, before everything goes dark. I (underweight teenage girl) carried a GIGANTIC fucking backpack that smacked my ass everytime I moved, up and down the mountain, in the Mediterranean post-climate change summer heat. And I kayaked on top of that. My shoulders hate me, but they have an entire month to rest and do jack shit. Anyways it was worth it. When I went back home I thought I could handle two glasses of wine on an empty stomach coupled with the fatigue and my subpar alcohol tolerance. I couldn't handle them well. Even though my sober-self warned me against writing such a curse, I wrote this while drunk: "Surely I deserve to have done to me the things that I read about that are done to other people." (I live in bliss because I elude karma)

I already want to be on the beach again. There weren't many people. From the sea I saw a young man walking on some pretty steep, hard-to-access rocks - I don't know how he got there. He laid down on a slanting, flat rock, there, at the bottom of the cliff, like Endymion in his cave; the mountain must love him.

Btw I learned that the actual precise beach I used to go to when I was a child doesn't actually exist anymore, it's all a bunch of rocks now. A landslide probably. But I don't mind at all because all the nearby beaches are identical. The water is so clear. Big ass fish (relatively). And they're at the bottom of the mountain. This beach and the mountain have always something incredible to gift me. When I was a kid, my ignorant bliss sufficed. In 2021 it was the occhiate circling me. When I went there with H it was a painted pebble on the ground, with a crudely drawn woman's face on it, and in the back some childlike handwriting: "MAMMA CHIARA", "mom Chiara" - I moved it so it would lean vertically on the cliff like the offering that it was. Today it was a little solitary beach I saw when I was kayaking, only accessible from the sea - water so clear, rocks so white, but that was not the incredible thing. Above it the mountain eased up in a "U" shape creating a little grassy flowering field, in the middle of the rocks and the dust and the steep cliffs. I didn't have my shoes with me but I had to stop and check it out. The rocks were slippery as fuck and I stumbled and almost fell and looked like a dumbass numerous times, but no one could have seen me, except maybe Endymion there. It was such a magical, cartoony, unreal place.

But now I'm back home and tomorrow I'm doing the painful swab thing and the day after tomorrow I'm getting spliced open and having a tube put in my arm (FUCK THAT) and not feeling my legs for a whole day and sleeping in the hospital. It's just a cyst so it's technically not a big deal but I'm shitting myself, especially because of the drip thing in my arm, and the fact that it's just gonna be there all day and all night, INSIDE MY VEIN the entire time, just thinking about it makes me want to puke, maybe I'll faint once I'm there. Qui c'è qualcosa che è dentro di me come un tubo che cola. Nothing can change the fact that this is gonna happen and all I can do is sing Silenzio, ospedale, vooooorrreeei fuuuuumare voooorrei ma se mi vede la suora, se miii vede il priiiiimario e l'aaaaiuto-priiiiiimario e l'aaaaaaiuto-aaaaaiuto-aaaaaaiuto.... Dove sono finito? Cosa mi è capitato?! I just wish it was already over. The moon is almost full - how could this happen to me?

Another thing I'm afraid of is sleeping in the hospital. Hospital at night??? Dark??? Silent??? CREEPY???? Ik it's childish but seriously how can you sleep in a hospital?

Caught my wild dagga slumped over, watered her and she went back to normal. Girl I thought you were drought tolerant??? Both yesterday and today, portulaca put out, among her other flowers, a single light pink flower that SENT me. She's exceptional, she's beautiful and she flourishes in the heat and drought... Every day, multiple times a day, there's this giant black and blue bee going crazy on my purple tansy. It's the first time I've seen an insect like this. Her wings have a bright blue sheen. I think she's a carpenter bee?? Idk anyways she's beautiful but when I get close she gets off the flowers and starts violently flying around like crazy, like she wants to attack me. Calm down!!!! I'm over here bringing food to the table water to the plants like a povera stronza so that YOU can eat, and you treat me like this??

↓ She's so me coded!!! (shrine coming soon)

"LO STARGATE DELLA MADONNA DI TREVIGNANO"

17 June, 2024

I don't know if I'm spending these last days before my surgery wisely or not. I went to that party, went out with an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time, and today I was supposed to go to the beach with C. but she got sick, so I didn't do anything. I want to go to my dear beach at the bottom of the mountain. Ritualistic descent into familiar waters. In front of the steep cliffs. I don't know if I'm getting enough light before forced descent into darkness and rest. I have to do the fucking covid swab test before the surgery for some fucking reason!!!!! I AM SHITTING MYSELF, IT'S PAINFUL!!!!!!!

On a side note I watched Alfred's Playhouse after hearing about it for four years. Obviously I don't support Emily Youcis, but the series was pretty good. I thought it was a kandi danganronpa cosplayer otherkin 13 year old sort of thing, but it's actually good. I think I will always associate it with stirring and the smell of isopropyl alcohol. Incredible how the smell of isopropyl alcohol makes me recall the refrigerating room I used to dream about and think about so much when I was smaller. Incredible how every little thing seems to want to remind me that I'm still home. I'm home.

15 June, 2024

Things just got worse but also a bit better because I'm learning how to deal with it a little bit. My summer may have gone to shit but I can still salvage something. At least I have a garden, a hammock, and a shit ton of THC. I have an oil, a tincture so thick it looks almost like sludge, and I even made a water-soluble powder with maltodextrin. And if a few extractions go well I won't have just THC. So I'm gonna spend about a month laying on my hammock getting high as fuck its gonna get boring after like five days haha im coping with this soooooooooooooo welllllllll. I just wanted to be near my mountain all the time. I want to be there, not only that, I want to be going there, up and down the steep paths with a heavy backpack that's too big for me and with my heart singing. I intended this to be a way more active summer. Whatever. I can't do anything about it.

Idk whether to go to a party tonight or not because I want to talk to some people there but none of my friends are coming and I'm pissed off and sad because of the whole surgery thing and my hair looks like pure SHIT.

The only things that lift me up a little are my weird extraction endeavours (yeah I like the british spelling more) and my plants. Portulaca... it's such a privilege to have her in my garden, she's so beautiful

14 June, 2024

I don't know what to do with my sadness, its like a boulder

12 June, 2024

Today i walked around Decathlon while full-on crying and sobbing with a tissue pressed to my face because surgery is gonna rob me of one month of summer. The first surgeon I saw told me that recovery was gonna be one week-ten days, then he changed idk why and the new one told me two weeks-one month. And yes its on the 20th. I should take advantage of the days I have left since then, but right now I'm so griefstricken and destroyed that I literally can't think about what to do. I made so many plans for this summer. "UNLIMITED BUS RIDES FOR THE REST OF THE SUMMER!!!" my ass. Can't change the date of the surgery because it would 99% be scheduled during my school year, and I wouldn't go to school for a month, which would make my grades drop hard. I feel so fucking shitty. Been crying since 9 am (it's 1.30 pm here).

Also my right ass cheek hurts like I overworked the muscle but I haven't done anything with that singular ass cheek

11 June, 2024

I'm getting surgery on like the 20th and dreading that day

Ma se mi vede la suora / Se mi vede il primario / E l'aiuto-primario / E l'aiuto-aiuto-aiuto! / Dove sono finito? / Cosa mi è capitato?

Tristi sarete voi tristi sarete voi... tristi sarete voi sareeeteeeee vvvvvvvvvvvvvooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiii

My purple tansy brings all the bugs to the yard

10 June, 2024

UNLIMITED BUS RIDES FOR THE REST OF THE SUMMER!!!

8 June, 2024

Things are half orgasmic good, half catastrophic bad

5 June, 2024

I suck at working out, always have, always will, and I just have to accept that I'm stuck in this body and stuck in this mindset. Same as always, I'm doing great then something gets me down and I realize it's all delirium. I feel like I'm parading around after being forced in a too-short ridiculous dress from when I was little. I've noticed my (very very very probable) hypersexuality has been getting slowly, almost imperceptibly worse, it's worse now, I'm sure, like when you take too much and you start to feel weird and you tell yourself "no, I'm normal, this is normal, this is not going to get worse" but you're not normal and then it gets worse. Everyone around me is weird and sticky. I bought a cheap tent from decathlon, I hope I can spend the night on a isolated beach alone, just me and the mountain, and heal

1 June, 2024

Feeling like this because I need a lot of money for my weird obscure drugsa too. How do you even do a good bufotenine extraction... Mysteries REMAIN!!

I want to camp in a isolated beach

29 May, 2024

I'm back from the trip!!!! I dont know how to feel about it because the good parts were really good and the bad parts were really bad, but I survived and I'm home now so its okay.

Oleander and jasmine, the flowers that foretell summer, are blooming. I'm all giddy now waiting for school to end. Im already making plans for this summer and most of them involve being a hippy crunchy moon-worshiper jumping up my local mountain, hugging trees, kayaking in my sea and loving every rock and grain of sand. There's a beautiful beach, not far from my home, at the end of a steep mountain path in the middle of a pine forest; last time I went there was 2021, the water was clear and some fishes, occhiate i think, huddled around my legs and sometimes I could feel them touching me. I used to go there a lot and I miss it. I'm going back there. I'm writing the text for a shrine right now and I hope to finish my site. I hope I can do everything I want to do this summer. I'm gonna vibe and create and read and write and learn. Or at least thats what I'm planning to do

20 May, 2024

Plumbago, my nearest-dearest childhood friend, is holding back her flowers to mourn me...

I'm leaving tomorrow for a week. There's very little to be happy about.

18 May, 2024

The more I look at flowers the more I believe in divine intelligence, or at least interconnectedness and love shared between all creation, and the more I realize I'm going in the wrong direction

Whenever I feel like I'm inevitably going towards something painful, I remind myself of this line from Whitehouse - Dumping the fucking rubbish: "You're about to experience getting seriously fucked up / In a new way you've never yet had / And once you're willing to feel that out of control and to get excited about it". I think it's genuinely one of the best sentences I've ever read. In general, Whitehouse has some of the best lyrics I've ever read. I dont listen to their songs (go ahead and try and tell me if you can), I literally just pull up the lyrics and read them like poetry. When I first listened to Whitehouse I was a suicidal kid walking my dog out in the cold... aaaah memories

17 May, 2024

OOoooooooooooooh ive really fucked up. I shouldnt have agreed to go on this school trip. Last year i didnt go and i was living it up, home alone getting tipsy and watching the l word. I hope nothing too bad happens.

14 May, 2024

Feeling weird because. May is probably the best month. We children of nature still arent choked by the unnatural heat of the recent summers. Everything is blooming everywhere. Sulla coronaria filling the fields with hot pink. Poppies everywhere you look. Yonic flowers reminding me of the divine - veccia, ginestra, ginestrino. Forasacchi as tall as me, that I greet like human beings - you know, those plants with the sticky seeds that you throw to people so that they will stick to their clothes. Pitosforo beginning to bloom, dittrichia viscosa greeting you with her sticky leaves from between the cracks in the sidewalk, even my old friend campanula. Everyone, plants I've seen every year since I was little, is out in the fields basking in the sun and swaying in the wind. The heat is not yet unforgiving. Then there's me, I've had a slight fever for a month now and I dont know why, and my cyst is flaring up again. I eat like a madman and work out and I stay weak and skinny like a twig. Im gonna do blood exams soon and I hope they discover theres fucking Alien in my blood or something, idk anything that would explain why I'm so sick. AND I have a week-long school trip soon so I will probably still be sick by then. I hope it doesnt suck massively, I'm very worried about it, we're gonna be walking all day.

Also feel very weird and derealized lately, completely at random, I haven't taken anything. Just waiting until it goes away, HOPING it goes away. I have two final tests this week, then the trip; once everything is done I'm gonna work on this website. Making a SHRINE!!!!!!!! I relapsed yesterday. Then came the centaur riding in from the south / stamping the memory of all I had been into the ground / The hoof is sharp, it shatters the scales from my waist down / that now fertilize the fields that give rise to passions abound. Wondering why the font in my about me page doesnt fucking WORK

12 May, 2024

me realizing i should have direct sown those seeds

also i did make that tincture but it reduced overnight out of nowhere... girl are you okay!!!

instead of actually finishing my site, my dumb ass is working on a shrine. im sorry. also school has been killing me but i swear ill get the other pages done eventually

3 May, 2024

Sometimes i find myself comparing my life to delirium, or to a trip on some sort of deliriant. now dont worry, im stupid but not stupid enough to actually do deliriants; i just resonate with the - im gonna say it - "vibes" of it, not in the sense that i find it visually pleasant or would make a pinterest board out of it or something. i mean it in the sense that descriptions of delirium (like kids freaking out on datura and then writing the report on erowid) are somewhat relatable to my life, in some metaphorical way. this doesnt mean im sad and depressed all the time. most of the times i think my life is great, i have all these bright hopeful thoughts and intuitions about spirituality and my future and what i think my place in the world is, and i feel great, then i have these "moments of clarity" when i feel ike ive woken up from that and realised that it actually all sucks and im just pacing back and forth in the same dark hallway mumbling nonsense to myself. my own thoughts flash randomly in my mind for a split second and sometimes theyre gone before i can even fully understand them. then the terrified confusion and half-coerent sense of impending doom; ive been living in the same house for all my life, i feel like i still share it with the little fucked up child that i used to be, and she haunts me, and im afraid of her showing up in front of me somehow, seeing her again, seeing the things that she used to do, and im so afraid of it that makes me sick to my stomach.

then, delirium (from what ive heard obviously, again im not stupid enough to do deliriants) isnt like a trip. you dont learn anything most of the time. you cant learn anything. its just meaningless maddening terror and confusion. and sometimes when im sitting in this same house, the same damn house for all my life, since when i was that kid, im afraid that theres something hiding in the hallway thats gonna make me fall headfirst into the psyche of the child that i used to be - dark crawling freudian nightmare - that im gonna be her again and doing all that stuff again and being that fucked up again and, this time, comprehending why i used to do that stuff; but it never happens because there isnt anything to comprehend, there isnt anything to learn, just like there is no reason why i was like that. i just was, like the delirium just is, and the confusion just is, and the dread just is. or something like that idk this isnt very coherent it makes much more sense in my head but i will now celebrate having written the first nonsensical edgy rant in this journal wooooohoooooooooo

29 April, 2024

I really miss my darling dearest dxm. i know its available at every pharmacy but im not willing to drink disgusting cough syrup anymore. i wish i was in the usa so i could buy robotabs for 20 dollars. if any of you see him, please tell him i say hi

27 April, 2024

i can have a little unhealthy obsession... as a treat... maybe once or twice a year

also my wild dagga germinated!!!

24 April, 2024

kissing my site softly on the forehead..... i still gotta get used to this

by the way how do you write to other people on here that youve been following them for 838829 quadrillion years and that you love them so much, in a socially acceptable way?

i think i might become a data hoarder...

22 April, 2024

theres a huge thunderstorm going on and its super loud im gonna die listening to karmas a bitch by brit smith

my site's finally online after 7478398383 years of planning it and im just staring at it dumbly (is this a real word)

16 March, 2024

"Rega er Traffik spinge i chili d'erba da quanno c'ha 15 anni quindi non scrivete cazzate porco dio nel mio dm Non lo sporcate con le vostre parole stupide brutti bitch ass n***a Traffik è il re della trap, spinge i chili Noi non è che stamo a fa i repperini, che se svejamo la mattina e famo i repperini capito? Questo è trap for real, tutte le canzoni che scrivemo sono la nostra vita hai capito? Gallagher e Traffik viviamo in un film Er Traffik l'hanno arrestato capito? Perché c'aveva i chili Non sapete quanto me mancherà stà a casa cor traffik a trappà tutti i giorni in casa sua capito? Non sapete quanto me mancherà er traffik, tutte le cose che abbiamo passato, le risate, tutte le volte che ve avemo preso per il culo a tutti voi!"

↑ this has been my placeholder text. it was everywhere in this site. its a copypasta made by a (white) rapper angry about his friend getting arrested. im about to say goodbye to it as i write the actual text for all of my pages. goodbye, rega er traffik.

11 December, 2023

I am working on this page right now and it sucks SOOOOO BAD but idk what to do about it

dworkin hard or hardly dworkin

THESE FONTS SUCK HARD BUT IM NOT GNNNA SPEND ANYMORE TIME SEARCHING FOR FIONTS YBYE