There should have been a storm today, but there was None. I wonder where the skys scream went.
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There should have been a storm today, but there was None. I wonder where the skys scream went.
Yesterday, Nintendo announced Labo.
Labo is a collection of games designed to show off and explore the technology built into the Switch through a series of inventive cardboard peripherals.
While the games look quite basic (maybe “tech demos” would be more apt), the video suggests that Labo includes an educational focus.
Part of the fun seems to be in learning how the software uses the Switch’s motion sensors, infra-red camera, and rumble motors to turn intricate cardboard cutouts into things like a working piano.
It’s like a high tech version of Kelli Anderson’s excellent This Book is a Planetarium.
I also love the fact that Labo is relatively environmentally friendly, eschewing plastic in favour of (recyclable) cardboard.
It’s great to see that Nintendo are refusing to rest on their laurels after the early success of the Switch.
I can’t wait to get my hands on that piano. 😄
Just testing image uploading using snap.as.
Age-old question: what is it with guys and their dicks? They’re oh-so-eager to whip it out at any opportunity. Super glad to send unsolicited dick pics. Confident that all that come into contact with IT are forever changed (and yet the Do You Like It questions posed in eight different ways). They want their penis to be worshipped and revered yet when I do so, cockiness inevitably ensues.
I’m an extremely oral and tactile person. I was in Barnes and Noble today and became aware of how I tend to caress the books. I love the feel of them. The weight. The smoothness of the covers. I was vaguely reminding myself to keep my hands to myself as to not pick up nasty flu germs. But touching, holding, leafing through books sparks the pleasure centers in my brain. Those are books. You can imagine my senses-fest when I’ve got a beautiful, hard cock at the mercy of my hands and mouth. For a plain girl, I can be very shallow. I love a lean, tight body and I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Not model/actor pretty. Edgy, with puppydoggish eyes, a strong Roman nose, and a crooked smile that crinkles the corners of the eyes. Yummy yum yum. I show my appreciation for this lovely package by exploring with my hands, mouth, and tongue. I’m a giver by nature and get pleasure by giving pleasure. A guy’s moans send shivers down my spine. The tightening of thighs against my shoulders, encourage. Trembling and shaking legs spur me on. A rough, gravelly voice murmuring, “I’m close”...or “I’m gonna cum” makes me smile around your cock. As you cum, I try to remember to take-in all the myriad sensations: the groans of pleasure, the hot jets of semen filling my mouth, each spurt causing your penis to pulse against my tongue. I swallow as the pulses slow and then I gently slide my mouth from you, leaving you clean and spent. There really must be something to the mood-boosting properties in ejaculate because I’m pretty peppy afterwards and more than a bit smug.
Good stuff, right? Here’s what invariably happens. All this worship seems to make a guy feel (more than) a bit full of himself. He confuses Penile Worship with Ego Worship. He seems to think his is the only penis that can inspire worship. He believes he is doing me a favor by allowing me to suck his cock. So tiresome. His requests begin to turn into royal commands (Come over now... Come suck this dick... You know you love it...). He turns into a bratty little bitch. I want to tell him Hey, I might not be beautiful or have a hot bod but I am female and thus can't swing a dead cat without hitting a multitude of guys I can blow at any given moment. Next comes the litany of selfish requests (You can blow me in the car! Oh gee, can I?) that elicits the mental raising of one eyebrow as I try to tell you in a nice way to climb down off your high horse if you ever want to be in my mouth again. The smart guys snap back to reality enough to quit getting on my last nerve and we progress happily. I have blow job buddies that have been ongoing for some time. One has been over three years. I see him perhaps once a month. Respectful guy with good manners. I don’t know his last name, what he does for a living or his exact age. I know all I need to know: he has a smokin’ hot body and he likes what I do to him.
So what’s my point here? Guys: CHECK YOURSELF. Yes, I like your cock. Yes, I like to have it in my mouth. Yes, I’m orally gifted. No, it doesn’t mean you can treat me like a hooker. Get a fucking grip. Or that’s literally what you’ll be doing tomorrow night while watching Pornhub...
there's no reason to stay here anymore I say to myself everyday that saving someone isn't an excuse to hurt yourself but it doesn't matter it doesn't matter if I hurt because no one is watching watching through the pane that we've all blissfully divided ourselves into you want to know, you say But there is no other way I wish we had something else to do but I will end up hurting you so no, it doesn't matter if I hurt instead On other days, I'd watch through the pane as the days pass only to remember the times disappeared and people lost I did my best, didn't I? :“)
I’ve started and abandoned more blogs than I care to count.
This time I promise myself (and the world) that I’ll continue to write here regularly, at least once a week, no matter what.
from process imagining
Hostility to art is also hostility to the new, the unforeseen.
~ Robert Bresson, notes on the Cinematographer
I like simplicity. When looking for a new blogging platform, I wanted easy, I wanted clean, and I wanted free (I settled for cheap). I also wanted to use a custom domain.
I have only great things to say about Medium, and I recommend everyone sign up and check out the wealth of information available. I mentioned before how it didn't suit me as a blogging platform. But also, Medium recently stopped supporting custom domains.
After some Googling, I stumbled onto write.as. Minimal, clean, simple. Markdown editing is really neat too. However, there was 1 drawback – custom domains were not available on the free tier. A $10/year “Casual” plan would be needed. I obliged, and here we are.
Here's to hoping it helps me get in the habit of posting regular content.
My first attempt at blogging, damienosullivan.me, didn't go too well. I used Medium as the...... medium; and I'm afraid it didn't work out. I felt that everything I posted had to be of a ridiculously high quality, and I'm afraid this is just not me.
Here is my post summary after trying to use Medium for a year:
These drafts were exactly my problem with using Medium. I never felt my posts were ever at a Medium (read high) standard. So I never published.
Simplicity. No pressure. Content.
I have a new domain. I jumped at getting damien.ie. I am using a new minimal platform write.as. I have potential content – motorbike, travel, photography, reviews, trading, etc.
Watch this space & thanks for stopping by, -Damien
Welcome to damien.ie.
If you used Write.as between February 2015 and June 2016, you'd remember a totally free service where you could publish individual “blog” posts without signing up. I had launched by building a simple website that showed some nice-looking text, along with some apps to publish that text from whatever device you wanted. It was all anonymous — you couldn't sign up even if you wanted to — and it struck a chord with all kinds of people who just wanted a simple digital tool to write with.
As I launched on our final native platform (iOS) five months in and wrapped up the web application, I started thinking about how to make it sustainable.
今晚饭期间，跟媳妇闲聊，媳妇问我，“你现在有啥兴趣爱好？” 我答曰：“你和咱闺女。” 媳妇说这个答案太官方，要真实一些的。仔细想来想去，这确实是我当前最真实的答案。
In onrust. Hart klopt sneller, gejaagd. Gedachten onderworpen aan hakkelende energie en tuimelend. Substantie tussen energie en denken en uitvoering is vloeibaar maar met klonten. Blokkeer, saboteer, en opeens een kleine opleving. Opleving = activiteit, tevredenheid, klein beetje gelukkig.. maar moment duurt te kort om iets te laten leven, kiemt niet, nog niet. Nog = twijfel. “Je denkt dat het komt” niks komt, zelfs die vrachttrein met dat licht aan t einde van de tunnel komt niet.
Werkt niet, denkt niet, is het defect? Stroom toevoer in een knoop, draadjes los. Geen bereik. Te ver van t leven. Het is net net niet. Geen geluk, geen ongeluk. Zou ik niet beter kunnen wachten met schrijven op het moment dat ik volledig gelukkig ben of diep ongelukkig. Levert dat resultaten..moet ik dit vragen. Ik vraag me af wat ik weet van dit moment. Wat weet ik van dit moment? Mijn hart klopt, het bloed stroomt, mijn vingers drukken op gealfabetiseerde toetsen, dat doet geen pijn, mijn lichaam (ik) kan voeding gebruiken, ik sliep lang, ik leef, heb één afspraak om 2 uur. Daarna heeft deze afspraak een vervolg. Ik draag warme sokken en een badjas. Ik zit. Ben thuis.
Ik heb .. net een CD gekocht van Circuit. en .. een Huismerk snikker gegeten.. 2 kopjes koffie gedronken (eerst koffie gezet) .. heb transmission aan, geen duidelijke activiteiten, stel uit, doe niet wat ik wil doen, schrijf tekst ter afleiding. Aangepast, geschikt voor snelle verwijdering.
Het ontbreekt aan zin, doel, liefde en lust, energie, schoonheid, details, invulling,
te veel abstracties, vaagheid (meer dan voldoende)..
onrust .. zichtbaar .. gemaakt .. onduidelijk, ongericht, te min, korte woorden zonder melodie, zonder ritme.. ik zit in een experimentele fase, ben avant garde. Ik rommel aan, schrijf zonder gene, zonder pit. Loom, vermoeid, onduidelijk, afwachtend, kijk eerst een boom uit de grond en dan de poes er in en er uit. Waar wacht ik op? Wacht ik op iemand, op iets, een object, een energie drankje/love potion/ Geluk. Is er een gedachte in de groei die kan duiden waarom ik wel t 1 doe maar niet t ander. Niet doe wat ik van mezelf verwacht. Die door woorden helder maakt wat ik nu niet begrijp. Een gedachte waardoor twijfel, uitstel en futloosheid van elkaar los komen en geisoleerd raken. Klein gemaakt en door die kleinheid verzwakken en daardoor eenvoudig op zij gezet worden. Is dit mogelijk .. en zo ja, waarom niet meteen/NU.
amper bewogen, behalve uit bed en enige meters in huis wat hand werk en wat slik werk, nu de rest. Vandaag heb ik nog niet tegen een ander gesproken, alleen in gedachten.
In ochtendroes, tegen het middag uur.. in rust en stilte. 12 uur ..
Arrest: 5 Months and 19 days later. Today is January 10th, 2018; we are only 10 days into a new year...and a new year I dearly hope that it is.
Prior to 2017, the Department of Corrections seemed to be a world of its own, make believe or way up on a cloud...obviously not a realistic place. Even if it does exist, this is the place where Murderers and Rapists are confined to...right? On July 22nd, 2017 I learned that is not the case. Finding that in all actuality, there is a DCC (Department of Community Corrections) facility less than a few miles away from my residence. “How convenient...” At least the ride to the detention center didn't take to god awfully Long.
I'm going to take you back to about 3 years ago. May of 2014. Being raised in a relaxing environment, yet a wholesome one was more than an amazement. I had a stunning father, funny and supportive mother, and one older sibling. Graduated with honors from high school at 17, 3.71 GPA, Scholarship offers (enough to even pay my bills); off i went to college. I always had a great head on my shoulders, able to tell right from wrong, made great decisions (at least 98% of the time), and truly enjoyed education, learning, and school. I laughed, made friends, and even spent time in study groups just for fun. I knew that I had some ability to be the catalyst for helping others; Always turning the 'horrible' studying for others into a fun and enjoyable time. Now, not to toot my own horn, but...classmates enjoyed my presence, teachers just the same, and I was respected, and even desired I felt at times. Co-workers couldn't wait to be on the same shift with me, Newcomers always felt connected and safe, most importantly though, I was trusted. At this point in my life (2014) I was so well trusted that I literally could have protected a bank vault with no questions asked if I wanted, because in all honesty, I was a very trustworthy individual.
My life has always been defined by helping others. Sincerely making a difference in ones life. So with great effort and dedication, in May of 2014 I graduation with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. In July of 2014, a few months after my long awaited graduation, I passed my license exam (NCLEX). This is not a cup of tea type of test, it is more like super strong espresso coffee, that you had expected to be hot chocolate.
August 11th 2014 I began my “Big Girl Job.” Working at the largest Hospital around, and mind you, it was a not for profit hospital (happy to go into that if requested). Even worse than working for a Not-for-profit hospital (less staff), is working on a Medical/Surgical Unit at a Not-for-Profit Hospital. yeah, “Stable and Predictable Outcomes”....they said. “the patient was assessed in the ER and are stable”...they said.
from process imagining
One's reality is not exhausted by it's exterior