Duty over Love... For love Sometimes you are The princess and sometimes You must play The girl

Truth Beauty Freedom Love

Most of all... LOVE

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A life lived in fear is a life half lived

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Please give me the gift of the spirit in my heart and the spirit Of dance in my feet.

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words are our only real power #poetry #sxsw

With the whole Winterlude (NSFW) short vignette finally done, I thought it might be time for another Questions No One Asked. In this edition, you get to learn about how I prep to write about someone in a spicy story and hey, maybe you’ll get a little bit of real life lore too!

NSFWish for mentions of sex, discussion of sex lives, and potty mouthed tieflings.

#Writing #QuestionAndAnswer #NSFWish

So Diotima, do you ever write about people you know in your, you know, spicy stories?

I mean, I just wrote about Vul and Runar so yes? But you probably mean “other people aside from Vul and Runar” and like… no, not as of yet. So… okay. Maybe TMI, but I need to either have to have done ‘field research’ into how they approach the spicy or I need to interrogate them I mean have a lovely discussion with them about their spicy. Actually both is best, so I can sort of understand their approach, you know?

What do you mean by field research?

Oh come on, you just want me to say I have to have had sex with them. So yeah, there you go. It’s a lot easier to write someone in spicy scenes if we’ve like… done our own spicy things, obvs.

I… I actually didn’t know! So uh. Wow. Anyway. Moving on…

Oh no, let me explain in detail! It’s all gasps and tongues and shivers and probably some biting and occasionally-

I GET IT.

Pfhahahaha omg your face….

Anyway MOVING ON… you… so you say you interrogate people? So you what, asked Vul about her sex life before you came along?

Hn. Yep!

Wasn’t that awkward? Like… knowing about that?

So okay ha ha ha true story, we both were kind of like… socially inept at the whole flirting thing and trying to impress each other when we were ‘just friends,’ so we waaaaaay overshared and then it was like ‘well fuck, we’re now kind of lovers and we know all of those things’ and we both had some angst (me moreso, tbh) but we got over it and kind of eventually moved into ‘this is kind of fun to talk about.’ I think all seriousness, it was like… neither of us ever got to really share, we both were made to feel ‘wrong’ for our feelings and likes for different reasons, and it was nice to just finally be with someone who could, you know, way overshare and listen to my overshares without being like ‘what the fuck, Dio?’

Oh, okay. That is definitely something. So back to the whole ‘writing about people you know,’ have you written about other people you know?

No and… no. Okay so here’s my view right? Writing about someone that way requires knowing them well enough to write them accurately, sure, but also… I would not write about someone without their consent. Runar is a special case and I’m not going to get into that today, but like… yeah. I would feel icky writing about someone without their explicit consent.

Okay so this is a weird question but would you sex your alt self?

Pfhahaha WHAT?! Where the fuck did that come from?! Oh my gods, no!! Why would I… are you serious right now? Oh gods, that would be so weird, why the fuck would I ever… fuck nooooooooo!! Oh yuck, why would you ask that? Is this like, a kink of yours or something??

Okay, but not me but like actual true story? I had an ex who was like, sort of obsessed with the idea. Don’t ask bc I have no idea why. She was totally a narc tho. Yeah shut up I choose poorly sometimes.

Would you sex alt Vul, then?

Uh, that’s cheating?

Even if she were cool with it, which she would not be, and even if I wanted to, which I absolutely do NOT, I can’t imagine it would be anything but freaky weird. Ick. No.

Where the fuck are these ‘would you do the weird thing’ questions coming from? Like… what?

Because you’ve been writing about alt Dio and I wanted to know if alt you was… a thing. I was not trying to be weird!

Ohhhhhh right. Yeah, no. I enjoy writing it, but no. She can have her alt reality and I’ll keep mine.

Final question. How much of your Winterlude story was based on true events?

Hn. Well. Remember ‘field research?’ So…

Yeah no, use your imagination, and maybe take Vul at her word that it was an accurate portrayal of her, yeah?

But-

Nope you said that was the last one! Ask next time. Byeeeee.

Whoa! This Saturday almost got totally away before I put up this quick note. It has been a pretty good day, though once again I ate far too much food. I'm afraid the bathroom scales are going to mock me in the morning.

Glad that Purdue lost their football game today, and glad the Hoosiers won their game. Tomorrow I may have two NFL games to watch and one IU men's basketball game. Gonna try to catch all three.

posted Saturday, Nov 9, 2024 at ~9:39 PM #QNNOV2024

I finally arranged, learned, and recorded one of my favorite Indigo Girls songs. Ammie bought me the sheet music for their Become You album. Ignoring the obvious fact of their immeasurably greater talent, I couldn't have written this song. I'm not a Southerner. But I share many of the feelings from my own journey. Parts of it are even more poignant for me at this moment in history. I'm an immigrant to the South, but three of my four children are first generation Southerners if they choose it. The fourth has lived here since he was three. And we are still fighting the same battles to become something better than the southern history of oppression is trying to hang onto. I know this goes beyond the South. Living here opened my eyes to how my Utah and Wisconsin societies enact and hide many of the same racist and sexist systems of oppression. I hope we can continue becoming a new people. And I hope you enjoy my adaptation of their amazing song.

My arrangement and recording of Become You

Indigo Girls [Verse 1] I heard you sing a rebel song Sung it loud and all alone We can't afford the things you save We can't afford the warranty Well I see you walking in the glare Down the county road we share Our southern blood my heresy Damn that old confederacy

[Chorus] It took a Long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won't Tear it apart Without a fight Without a heart

[Verse 2] I'm sorry for what you've learned When you feel the tables turned To run so hard in your race Now you found who set the pace The landed aristocracy Exploiting all your enmity All your daddies fought in vain Leave you with the mark of Cain

[Chorus] It took a Long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won't Tear it apart Without a fight Without a heart It took a Long time to Become you Become you

[Verse 3] The center holds so they say (It never held too well for me) It never held too well for me (The center holds so they say) I won't stop short for common ground (That vilifies the trodden down) That vilifies the trodden down (I don't wanna stop) The center held the bonded slave For the sake of industry (Ah) The center held the bloody hand Of the execution man (Ah)

[Chorus] It took a Long time to Become the thing I am to you And you won't Tear it apart Without a fight Without a heart It took a Long time to Become you Become you It took a Long time to Become you Become you

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Saturday 2024-11-09

Prayers, etc.: * 07:00 – Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel followed by praying The Angelus * 07:50 – praying the Glorious Mysteries of the Holy Rosary, followed by the Memorare. * 11:30 – Praying to Atone for Rome's 2025 Jubilee Mascot * 12:00 – praying The Angelus * 12:05 – Thought for today from Archbishop Lefebvre: The graces bestowed on those who are not part of the visible body of the Church can only come through the Church. No one can be saved through a false religion. No one can be saved through error, through a path that opposes the Holy Spirit, that opposes the wisdom of God, that opposes the means that God chose to save us, namely, His Incarnation. * 14:15 – prayerfully reading The Athanasian Creed, followed by today's Daily Meditation found in Benedictus Magazine. * 18:00 – praying The Angelus * 18:20 – praying the hour of Compline for tonight according to the Traditional Pre-Vatican II Divine Office, followed by Fr. Chad Ripperger's Prayer of Command to protect my family, my sons, my daughter and her family, my granddaughters and their families, my great grandchildren, and everyone for whom I have responsibility from any demonic activity. – And that followed by the Saturday Prayers of the Association of the Auxilium Christianorum.

Health Metrics: * bw= 214.29 lbs. * bp= 149/76 (68)

Diet: * 08:30 – sweet rice * 10:15 – Ube Halaya * 13:15 – beef stew * 15:00 – kutsinta * 15:30 – Ube Halaya * 17:20 – Suman

Chores, etc.: * 08:15 – bank accounts activity monitored * 10:45 – listening to Pregame coverage of the college football game between Ohio St. and Purdue * 14:10 – have switched over to Pregame coverage of this afternoon's college football game between IU and Michigan * 19:00 – tonight's Svengoolie.

Chess: * 10:25 – moved in all pending CC games

• posted Saturday, 2024-11-09 ~20:50 #DLNOV2024

Driving home through the countryside as the sun set, I noticed a cemetery along the roadside. A few neat little acres where so many had said goodbye to their loved ones.

In the waning light, the headstones glowed crimson, as if the blood of all of those lost souls was splashed across a canvas. It was empty of the living, as graveyards are wont to be, save for one mourner.

One site was lush with flowers—not the kind left after a funeral, where the family asked the flowers to remain. These bouquets, likely plastic, had been placed over time and accumulated like the small gifts of life are known to do. The site was not all that unusual save for one detail: a bench had been placed at the grave, and upon it sat a man.

I could not tell his age or disposition in the growing darkness as we went by, but in an instant I understood and felt his loss deep in my being.

I saw not just a man at a gravesite, but an unmoored and desperate creature so deeply in love with a soulmate that her passing left him without direction or purpose. A ship whose sails and compass were stripped in a storm and now he was adrift in a sea where he no longer had direction, destination or propulsion.

I wondered: this lone figure was here tonight as he has been every night for… weeks? Months? Please, Jah, do not let this traveler be stranded now for years after the passing of this one cleaved from his own essence.

He did not share this moment with me, but I intruded and his loss became mine as I reflected on the mighty treasure I possessed and how delicate and precious it was. It occurred to me how we are like the green grass that seems so indelible when we are young but becomes so fleeting as the years and experiences stack up. The elephant of time tramples us until we are dust.

Our love is so powerful that it can transcend space and even time thanks to memory. But that power has its limits. How he and I long not only for the fondness of recollection but for the power and energy and thrill of existence with the ones we love.

As I rolled on, I heard the tearful whisper to her, “I wish I had said I love you more often. Held you more tightly, and just a little longer when I could. I miss the smell of you and the tenderness of your voice and the happy lilt of your laughter. How I pray God lets us be together again one day.”

I will carry the memory of the man with me, and perhaps my prayer will ease his loss in some small way, helping him in time to visit his little bench less often, until he is able to move forward again as the winds of life fill new sails and a recovered compass that directs him back to her arms forever.

And so, I reached and grasp the hand of the one I love and gently squeezed, knowing that one day I too might regret not having taken every opportunity. Tonight I have all of her, a gift I should not squander.

The darkness descended as she and I sang and laughed and celebrated all the moments we had behind and before us both.

Support will be a little spotty over the next week or so while I handle some family matters. In the meantime, please use our public forum for most questions, feedback, customization support, bug reports, and so on. Otherwise please send me an email for urgent discussions like billing issues, and I'll get to it as soon as I can.

- Matt

Day #1

I had a fight with my brother two days ago or maybe yesterday, and I hit my mother by mistake it was an unavoidable mistake, this event will or maybe has changed the course of my life. I got disowned for a day even if it's an unusual thing, it changed everything it is truly sad what a human does when he is angry, a man becomes an animal with no morals when he cannot see what's Infront of him. I went to a friend's house and talked a little bit of what happened... they said, “you are at mistake what you did is unforgiveable.” I did not say anything not because I don't have anything to say but because my mouth couldn't let the words come out. I feel like a cage eager to be filled, but in the end a man cannot fill his own emptiness, it is absurd but when a man is put against the world he will lose a billionth time. I really feel sad not that this is new I always felt sad, like I don't belong to anything, I'm a traveler here and there just destined to pass by memories and see them as nothing. is this punishment from God for being born, or just a great amount of bad luck since I was born and knew what was going around me, I felt sad and weird around everything, like a stone you throw at the ocean it bounces then drowns never to be found again. when I look at the mirror I see fragments of a dead person, I neither am myself or anyone, I'm simply a creature stripped from human ethics and emotions. there's no point in doing anything, I merely exist. my purpose is to observe and then die like how I was born crying. my loneliness is full of people. my greatest enemy is my brain sometimes I wish I didn't have one, so I don't have to suffer because of it, I'm a cloudburst, a storm in the inside there's nothing but a huge empty hole.

Day #2

This isn't either of the blogs I had planned for this week. I have a 90% written piece about why perfectly good computers aren't compatible with Windows 11. I also have about half of the background done on what I plan to be my first movie review here.

I can't promise I would have published either this week. No matter which party won the election, I was going to have things to do as it related to that. I might have had more energy if I hadn't been mourning the results. It would require a lot more than a time machine to find out what things might have been like for me this week with a different outcome.

This post is one I didn't plan. There's an oft-repeated phrase “the right tool for the job.” If you grew up speaking English, you've heard of it. Probably from a parent telling you to stop using a screwdriver as a hammer. It's not a bad phrase as is. It has uses but I come to you today to tell you sometimes you need the wrong tool.

A long time ago, I looked down at my grocery cart and realized that everything in it that wasn't food was something I was buying for a purpose other than its intended use. It's the kind of thing I didn't really think about before then. It's part of what I call “living a life without defaults.” I don't do it for some specific philosophical reason. It's a description of something I've observed about myself, not something I think you need to adopt. I do it because I don't know what the defaults are. Blame it on my autism. Even in an age with search engines providing access to much of humanity's knowledge, it's often hard to phase the question in a way that you can get a straight answer out of a search engine.

More fundamentally, there are tools I need that don't exist. That's literally why I code but I'm not an engineer. If a physical thing I need doesn't exist, I end up bodging my own thing together with the wrong tool.

The thing that reminded me of this is a Freewrite Alpha. It's a bit pricey but it's a distraction-free writing tool. That's becoming a bit of a theme for me. When you use it with the kickstand deployed, the rubber feet at the bottom aren't enough to keep it from shifting around a desk. That's very distracting which defeats the purpose.

Note: I'm not endorsing the Freewrite Alpha. I think for the money, almost anyone would be better served by buying a used laptop and installing Linux on it. It'll be cheaper and you can get a similar low-distraction environment by creating a local only account.

I have some silicone coasters and I set up three of them to solve the issue but I knew it wasn't quite what I needed. Almost surely there's someone who has something that's either purpose built to solve my problem or something pretty close to it. I could spend hours trying to find the exact right thing. Or I could buy some of that rubber jar lid grippers are made out of.

I'm not here to advertise for you the wonders of a particular retail chain. They're not paying me and they've betrayed the queer community two Prides running so fuck 'em. But they do have rolls of that stuff as shelf-liner at prices cheaper than any more purpose-built solution I was likely to find. You can probably find it locally at one of your home improvement retailers. Plus it makes my improvised desk look good.

I did have to cut it to size. I reached for my good scissors and realized “Maybe this is the time for the right tool.” I found my less expensive scissors and cut it to length.

When you have the right tool available, you should use it. Sometimes the right tool doesn't exist or isn't affordable or available. When that happens, embrace using the wrong tool. Take joy in it! When you do, you're participating in a tradition older than humanity.

#TechTips #CreativeProcess #Essay #Autism

It is Saturday, November ninth, the year of our lord 2024. I feel like it must be said to start things off: I’m not dead, FYI. (Ooh, he said the thing!)

I didn’t know how else to get this site started. Starting a new blog in 2024, especially one that is basically just black text on a white page, seems anachronistic. So I thought it best to start with some sort of explanation, if only for myself. Why am I even doing this?

This year, I have experienced tremendous loss that I am still contending with. I have been relatively blessed throughout my years to lead a life largely unaffected by such pains. I don’t feel like I’ve been dealt the short end of the stick or anything, but that is small comfort. If only trauma obeyed logic and objective fact.

I’ve been thinking a lot about life and death. More than usual, anyway. What it means to be, well, not dead. I have said it to myself many times in the past few months, “at least I’m still alive. I’m here. Not dead.” It’s true. Look, I’m typing these words right now. I’m here, able to affect and change the world even if only by altering the electrons flying around in the machine to tell it to produce the text your eyes are glossing over right now.

On the other hand, if I’m being honest, at times I have considered the other, darker interpretation of “not dead, FYI.” A sigh, if not a lamentation. At times, I’ll admit, it feels like I have no reason to keep going. Like I’m just stuck here in life. I struggle to find any purpose, and if I’m running out the clock, there’s no point to make any more plays or even call a time out. If the buzzer signals the end, good, no need to worry about anything anymore.

Happy, cheerful stuff, right? I actually don’t think my thoughts are that bleak, but I must admit that there are two sides to the coin. The negative thoughts often revolve around purpose, or a lack thereof, and that’s part of what this blog aims to remedy.

As silly as it may sound, I feel like putting something out into the world is a form of purpose. I’m under no illusions of potential readership, I don’t plan on promoting this or anything. These words will probably be read by myself, the robots scraping the web, and no one else. That’s fine. At least they’re here. They exist.

Thus by writing here I hope to not only make an occasional announcement to the world that, indeed, I am NOT DEAD, FYI, but to also give myself a reason to remain not dead (FYI).

As to what I plan to write about, I really have no idea beyond just typical personal journal-type stuff that I might want to share with the world. I keep a very extensive private journal already, which is all well and good, but those words never leave the pages beyond which they are written upon.

I actually used to write my journal very publicly. As in, it was at my full legal name dot com. A simpler, naive time, decades ago at this point. Even though what I wrote was largely milquetoast, when it came time to get a job, and as identity information became something to be mindful of, I decided to shutter it.

So this time around, I’m going to try and be more mindful of those considerations. I’m not going to be hyper-paranoid about it, as I know a determined individual can figure out who anyone is online. Regardless, I’ll likely end up writing nothing too controversial anyway.

In other words, I have no idea what I’m really going to write here. But I will write something. As a tangible, public affirmation that I exist. That I’m still here and I’m trying to create some kind of purpose with the time I’ve got left.

This blog exists, these words exist. So do I. Not dead, FYI.

< Back to the Index

1. We cannot seek to understand why people might want to limit access and agency. We must push against the errosion of opportunity.
2. On Tyranny is a must read.
3. California’s Governor Newsom seems prepared to set up a real opposition force. It would be great to see him and VP Harris, once she’s out of office, team up on this. Whatever it might mean for the 2028 election.
4. We are very lucky the U.S. Constitution is so hard to change.
5. That makes it even more important that we strengthen the ground game, supporting local institutions, ensuring elections can be certified appropriately, and districts are drawn fairly is even more important.
6. We’ve got to document. From preserving data to writing blogs to keeping personal diaries. We’ve got intentionally capture the data on our world. This is a big one and is attached to our current age of AI especially when combined with the machines of mis and disinformation.
7. We need to stoke imagination. We need to image more ways to preserve resources and allow access to opportunity than enforcing limitations.

#001089 – 07 de Novembro de 2024

Sento-me no metro e só há um terço do banco disponível. O rapaz à minha direita, nos seus vintes, tem as pernas abertas de forma a ocupar o seu lugar e boa parte do meu. Peço-lhe espaço, olho-o nos olhos, ele abana a cabeça como quem percebe, mas praticamente não se mexe. Tenho metade do corpo fora do banco, do lado do corredor. Dirijo-me a ele de novo e peço, “pode dar-me metade do espaço, que tal, metade para si, metade para mim?”, ignora-me. À sua frente está uma rapariga, da mesma idade. Talvez a atitude do rapaz, esta espécie de teimosia territorial, tenha sido espicaçada por uma vontade inconsciente de a impressionar. Mas na altura, há dez minutos atrás, não pensei em nada e reagi numa versão de road rage em transporte público. Toquei no rapaz: empurrei-lhe gentilmente a perna, a demonstrar o lugar dele, apontando com a outra mão para o meio. Não o devia ter feito. Não foi uma agressão, mas foi uma invasão do espaço desta pessoa, mais grave que a sua invasão do meu espaço, porque eu toquei-lhe. Os dois saem na paragem seguinte e eu fico sentado, envergonhado e espantado com a minha reação, convencido de que sou também, como qualquer pessoa, capaz de comportamentos imbecis.

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