Aaah the spring sun is shining strongly on the dusty streets and pave walks, but in the brownish looking parks, it is possible to spot bright green grass

And I was today eating lunch where there was a buffet of pancakes, pizza, Indian food and some sort of schnitzel with potatoes and gravy, together sending a powerful message that you don’t need to choose; you can have everything at once (there was also sushi and kebab but not as part of the buffet).

And I walked with a belly full of world’s food and my back straight, gazing at the horizon.

I’ve been questioning my reality a lot lately.

Not in a dramatic way. Just in this quiet, constant way where things don’t fully line up, and I can’t tell if that’s normal or if I’m the only one noticing it.

There’s so much happening—so many opinions, so many extremes—and everyone around me seems… calm. Or certain. And I don’t feel that way.

It makes me feel a little off. Like I’m missing something. Or maybe like I’m seeing something I’m not supposed to.

Or maybe I’m just overthinking it.

I don’t know.

I was raised in an environment that encouraged questioning things. Critical thinking, avoiding absolutes, not just accepting something because it’s said confidently. And I’m grateful for that.

But what’s been harder is realizing that questioning is only comfortable when it stays within certain boundaries.

When I started questioning things that sit underneath those boundaries—the shared foundation—it didn’t feel the same.

It went from being encouraged to being dismissed.

From “think for yourself” to “you’re not doing enough research.”

From curiosity to concern.

And maybe some of that is fair. I know I can fixate. ADHD does that. My brain latches onto something and wants to understand it from every angle.

But it’s always going to be something.

So I don’t really see the harm in learning how to think more deeply. In researching. In being open to ideas that don’t immediately fit into what I already believe.

Not everything is right. Not everything is worth entertaining. I get that.

But if we shut things down the second they make us uncomfortable, we don’t leave any space for actual understanding.

And I keep thinking about how everything that works—really works—has some kind of balance.

In nature, in ecosystems, in anything that’s meant to last.

Nothing exists in isolation. Everything depends on something else that’s different from it.

And when something takes over completely—when there’s no balance—it stops working. It becomes hostile. Things start to fall apart.

I don’t think humans are separate from that.

I think we like to believe we are, but we’re not.

There will always be outliers. There will always be ideas that feel too far, too extreme, or outside what we consider acceptable.

And some of those things do need boundaries. Systems. Protection.

But not everything that challenges us is dangerous.

If we treat it that way, we slowly lose the ability to exist with anything that doesn’t perfectly align with us.

And that doesn’t create safety. It creates fragility.

I think what’s getting harder is that it feels like the middle is disappearing.

Like everything is pulling in opposite directions, and instead of finding balance, we just keep moving further apart.

And I don’t even know what we’re all fighting for anymore.

It feels like we jump from one thing to the next, arguing until there’s no resolution, and then moving on before anything is actually understood.

And every time that happens, the space in the middle gets smaller.

Until it feels like you’re trying to stand somewhere that barely exists.

I don’t have answers.

I don’t even know if I’m thinking about this the “right” way.

But I do believe in balance.

In the idea that no single person, belief, or system can hold everything together on its own.

That it has to be something we participate in. Something we maintain, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Even when we don’t agree.

Even when it would be easier to just pick a side and stay there.

Because I think the only real common ground we have is that we’re all here.

All human. All shaped by different experiences, different environments, different ways of seeing things.

And maybe the point isn’t to eliminate that.

Maybe it’s to learn how to exist with it.

To adjust. To listen. To hold some kind of center, even when everything around it feels like it’s pulling apart.

I don’t know.

I just have a hard time believing that harmony comes from everyone thinking the same thing.

It feels more like something you have to actively keep in tune.

And I’m not sure we’re doing that right now.

This Saturday's Sporting Event to follow in the Roscoe-verse will be 3rd-Round Play in the 90th Masters Golf Tournament from the Augusta, Ga. National Golf Course. Weather permitting, of course. And it will be playing on the TV back in my room this afternoon.

Though I've never been a golfer, (my god-awful eye-sight from a young age), I certainly understand the appeal of this beautiful and challenging sport to those who play it and follow it.

And the adventure continues.

The Porch
It was a beautiful morning in the countryside with the fresh snow shining softly under the bright sun, the grass on the porch wet with morning dew the soft chirp of birds giving a wave of peace and calmness. There she was sitting on the stairs a hand on her face and other holding a cup of tea, waiting for him as her dress flowed in the air as if wanting to rush to him. She sighed softly. Her heart heavy with feelings she couldn’t explain. She felt a weird tightness in her chest and before she could address it she heard a loud rusty truck pull up in front of her door. “It was him, no it must be him,” she thought as she ran to the door, but fate had other plan. Her heart dropped as she saw his friends get out of the car with firm body but trembling lips and teary eyes. She walked with the little courage she had and stood broken as they handed her his belongings and the country flag. Her voice stuck in her throat as she accepted his belongings. She wanted it to be just a dream to wake up and find him next to her smiling. She had no shoulder to lean on, no songs to sing with, and no one to bake with. His friends left with tears in their eyes their duty stopping them from crying. She walked inside with weak legs and fell to the ground; she cried and cried till she passed out, fatigue taking over her grief. She had accepted the grief of losing him but one morning everything changed. When she finally woke up, the air smelled of vanilla and sun-warmed pine. He was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on her knee. He looked younger, his uniform gone, replaced by the soft flannel shirt she loved. She didn't ask how the flag left forgotten on the table. She only knew that he was there with her and she was in his arms. They spent the day in a golden haze. They sang their favorite songs until their throats were dry. They baked the cookies, the kitchen filling with the scent of sugar and home. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they sat on the porch, hand in hand, watching the stars pulse like living hearts. She kissed him, and for the first time in her life, she felt no fear of tomorrow. But inside the house, the clock had stopped days ago. The tea she had poured sat black and moldy on the table. The fire in the hearth was nothing but cold, gray ash. In the bedroom, the woman who had cried until she couldn't breathe lay still, her skin as pale as the winter moon, her eyes closed in a sleep that would never break. Outside, the neighbors finally began to knock. Their voices were muffled and worried, echoing through the halls of a silent, empty home. They peered through the windows, seeing only the dust settling on the family photos the grass turning brown and brittle. She didn't hear the sirens or the heavy boots on the floorboards as the door was finally forced open. She didn't feel the cold air rush into the room where she lay. She only felt his hand in hers, pulling her further into the light. Behind them, the house stood hollow—a shell of a life that had finally, quietly, surrendered to the dark.

You can call me crazy, or liar, or you just believe me.

I will never be able to prove anything I am saying, but some stuff for me are very real. And I only know that because I have felt them.

For instance, I didn’t really understand yoga until it came to me through meditation. I experienced it before I had a teacher. My first contact with involuntary movements happened when I was around 24 or 25. I was listening to mantras quite frequently and I'd meditate quite frequently. One day, it happened.

My body began to unfold into yoga poses and mudras (those hand positions) through completely involuntary movements, as if guided by an unseen hand. I assume that's how a flower feels when it's blooming, it opens not by movement, but by inner energy. It reminds me of a poem from Rumi that says: “What was said to the rose that made it open was said to me here in my chest”. I understood it, Rumi. Thank you.

At first, I was a little.. surprised. I really really assumed it might be connected to having smoked a joint with a friend the night before and thought there was some lingering effect of THC. A few days later, I meditated again, this time completely sober, and it happened once more. The surprise was replaced by a sense of trust. The movements were slow and gentle, guiding me into stretches and positions I never imagined I could elaborate. Whatever was happening was beyond my understanding and control.

So I did what anyone would do: I googled it, hahaha. After digging through questionable forums (no chat GPT at the time), I eventually stumbled upon the word “kriya”. Turns out kriyas are involuntary movements said to happen when kundalini energy rises through the spine. Super common in India, especially in group practices. In my case? It was just me. Alone. No teacher. No vocabulary to express it (the closest was Rumi). No training, clueless. I did not know what a position even was, even less the purpose behind it, but somehow, yoga already knew me.

Two years later, I was dating a guy who had just started a Kundalini yoga teacher training. Yoga was hype then, you could see a wave of people interested, rushing to studios. I did not connect the kryias that happened to me years before to yoga at this time. Because in my mind all I was doing was meditating when movements happened. One day, he came to my flat with a thick book. That particular day, though, we’d had a little argument, so I retreated to the living room to meditate and let things cool down.

I put on some mantras to play and sat on the floor. Within seconds really, it started again. The spontaneous movements were back. He walked in and sat on the couch. I was aware of him, but I stayed immersed in what was happening. After about fifteen minutes, I stopped. When I looked at him, he asked, clearly surprised: “Where did you learn this?”

I tried to explain I knew it would sound crazy, but I honestly honestly did not know what I was doing, it would just happen to me. Stunned, he told me I had just gone through a full sequence of six different postures from the book he’d brought home, without ever opening it. I then saw the sequence laid out in detailed illustrations and precise instructions. They had names and all. Said to activate certain chakras. Anyone who has ever seen yoga material must know what I am talking about. It all made sense now. I told him what I could assume is this indian practitioner (I do not remember his name) went through the sequence of spontaneous movements and decided to reverse engineer it by drawing them down into a sequence and teach them to westerns under the name of “Kundalini yoga”. He did not even fake it, he called it exactly by the name I googled years before “kryias”. But westerns, going through it, will probably think a kryia is a sequence of postures you should follow, and not spontaneous movements.

I have very clear in my mind yoga is not a practice of the wise ones, or the experienced ones, it is just out there as a collective knowledge. If it can happen to me, believe me, it can really happen to anyone. I went to multiple yoga studios in São Paulo and a few in Vienna after that, always had nice classes, but very pragmatic too. Not even once the kryias happened to me during those classes.

My yoga class in India was a completely different experience. Absolutely no focus on postures, no books, no attention to details. All we were asked for was to feel. I told my indian teacher that day about what happened to me and how I appreciated his class because I understood his concept. He confirmed that the kryias were indeed completely normal, he would always see people having them during festivals, while in the western world they would be seen almost as a supernatural thing. But according to him, the highest states of consciousness will arise naturally when you are ready, when you purified your heart. It has nothing to do with willingness or performance, because it just reinforces the illusion of separate self. It's a mimimi. When that performative thought does not arise, then you are not there the same way, you are here. You just are.

Another completely different experience: sound baths. Went to two sessions of sound baths in Vienna with a friend because it was an option on my Myclubs signature. It wasn't bad. It was very relaxing. The person hosting the session had a collection of bowls, a gong, and other instruments. She explained all of them to us before starting.

Sound bath experience in India: you would enter the room in complete silence. The teacher, seated with the gentlest smile, greeted each person individually with a silent “namaste”. He had only one small bowl with him, nothing else.

The moment he began, I felt an immediate sensation at the top of my head, as if four different points were being touched. I didn’t hear the sound, I felt it. The experience was so physically real that at one point I really thought someone was lifting my legs and dragging my body across the floor in slow spirals. I slightly opened my eyes, convinced someone was actually holding me. There was nothing, just the decorated ceiling of the room. No one touching me. I smiled inwardly, surprised by my own arrogance in refusing to believe what was happening. I was so disconnected from myself that I doubted the experience, convinced it had to be some kind of trick. As westerns, our belief systems are fragile, we’re conditioned to distrust our own sensations, and only trust logic.

End of last year I joined an energy healing course, which pretty much uses only hands and postures to transmute energy. Yes, look at me, a complete hippie trippy, I know. Anyhow, since then, every time I do the practice, I need to place my hands and I swear I can feel the energy circling from one hand to the other as of an electric chain. My hands who are normally cold get extremely warm before I even start.

Some weeks ago I went to concert at Arena with a friend and in the middle of a song while I just closed my eyes it happened again, the sound was traveling through me and touching me exactly in the middle of my chest. It wasn't even a sound bathing session.

It turns out I still cannot explain many things I had experienced and continue to experience sometimes. And possibly I never will, but one thing I am sure is that this life force or however you rather call it, spills beyond our words and escapes the boundaries of physics.

/Apr2026

2.05 Yarmouth Like the chances of DASHING DONKEY here. Three down-the-field runs over the winter but 9/0/2p in that sphere and much better on the turf with plenty of boxes ticked today; 6/2/4p at the track, won on both ground and at the trip, 11/4/7p on a straight course and jockey has won twice on him. Although this is his highest turf mark, he has done OK off 2lbs higher on the AW LTO and 60 shouldn’t be too much of a hindrance. With four places available I think he has a really strong each way chance. DASHING DONKEY // 0.5pt E/W @ 17/2 4 places (Bet 365) BOG

A esta hora, cuando las nubes en mi mente se transforman en rostros y lugares, música suave y se dispersan luces de arcoiris, claridad. Ahora, cuando el silencio da forma a las secretas sílabas y desaparecen, zorros azules en la noche del tiempo. Momento completo: tienes un altar en mí.

So today I from pretty much random coincidence sent a message in my works new grad channel looking for potentially more people to play a board game this Sunday. One of the people that messaged me seemed pretty cool and we have good conversation and they seem like a pretty cool person, and eventually I realized I have met this person before, and she was the girl at an earlier event that I thought was absolutely beautiful and I really wanted a chance to talk to you but I didn’t get much of a chance to. It seemed like she was very interested in getting to know me more, and to hang out, she even asked me if I want us to get drinks tonight which I said no too. I thought it was almost divine intervention that this person is showing up especially because I really wanted to get to know them from the little eye interacted with them earlier, but at the same time after talking a little bit more it became pretty apparent that they are somewhat similar to me in terms of background and mental health issues, except for the fact that they do not have it really under control. They seem to be very much struggling with it and also other general patterns that I remember going through and seeing in myself. I guess this is kind of like a mini test, of me recognizing the red flags and putting the brakes on before I get attached to this person or I have them kind of fall for me just due to codependency. I think the fact that I have my life so visibly together is a big thing that causes women I’ve interacted with as a recent to kind of latch onto me, but maybe it’s also for different reasons who knows.

I know it’s really nerdy and stupid but I wanted to fit a Poisson distribution or whatever to the frequency that I meet people that I feel interested in, because I believe that’s a distribution for random events like this. From that I would be able to fit a distribution and find an expected value and be able to apply things like the secretary matching problem to find unexpected value and variation for that, but I know that I won’t be able to perfectly model anything like this and it’s more just for the love of the game if I’m being honest. I really enjoy all of the art stuff I’ve been doing recently and the creative things, I’ve noticed I almost never gain anymore and I want to do my art stuff or play music and I’m really happy with that.

気温が高くなってきたので、ベランダで朝食を取ることにした。 スマホの天気予報を見ると最高気温は29℃。実際に外に出ると、すでにかなり暑い。

朝食は、トーストにひき肉とブロッコリーをのせ、チーズと胡椒を加えたもの。 最近は、ひき肉とブロッコリーを炒めて塩をかけただけのものをご飯にのせて食べるのにハマっていて、これはそのアレンジ版だ。妻が考案した。

ベランダで過ごす時間は、どこか贅沢な気分になれて好きなのだが、やはり暑く、結局15分ほどで室内に戻った。

最近は、寒さが終わるとすぐに暑くなる。ちょうどいい気温の期間があまりにも短い。 18℃くらいの気温で、薄いシャツを着て外でコーヒーを飲む時間が一番快適だと思う。 現代の人間はこれに適応できないまま寿命を迎えるだろう。

昼食は、ひき肉とブロッコリーを使い切るため、同じ具材をご飯にのせて食べた。 最近はシンプルな味付けのものしか喉を通らず、外食があまり楽しめなくなってきた。それはそれで少し不便だ。

昼食後は歯医者の予約があったので支度をする。 歯を磨き、顔を洗い直す。顔がはっきりしてくると、細かい毛が気になり、いつもより丁寧に処理した。歯医者に行くだけなのに、なぜかいつもより顔がすっきりしている。

今通っている歯医者はまだ2回目だ。 前の歯医者で詰めていた歯が取れたため、付け直してもらうために予約した。下の奥歯は問題なく処置してもらえたが、特に説明もなく、それに合わせるために上の歯を少し削られた。少し気にはなったが、仕上がりが良かったので何も言わなかった。

歯医者の後は、急な暑さに対応するため、エアリズムを4着購入し、妻といつもの喫茶店へ。 いつも通り、特別な話をするでもなく、ただゆっくり過ごす。

帰りにスーパーで、レコメンドされていたピコラとエアリアルというお菓子を買った。どちらも99円。 さらに、まるごとバナナを衝動買いした。久しぶりに食べたが、やはり美味しい。1本は多いので、2人で分けた。

エアリアルは思っていたよりも美味しく、新しい発見だった。あまり評価されている印象がなかったので、少し意外だった。

夜はツナ缶のパスタ。ツナと鰹節の組み合わせで、シンプルだが美味しいヘルシーな夕食。 もう少し食べ応えのある具材を足したいところだが、何を加えるのがベストかはまだ思いつかない。

自炊を中心にした、良い休日だった。

Izzy Watches Porn

#nsfw #Izzy

“OMG, they are really naked… wow.” Izzy was leaking. Her eyes were wide. Her pussy throbbing. She was in full overload. Suddenly her mom called. Her left eye twitched again. She doesn't want interruptions from what she was seeing on her screen.

“I think I should go to my desk and use my laptop. That screen is bigger.” Izzy thought to herself. She was comfortable on the couch on her phone, but she got tired of those jolts back to her old life that didn't matter.

She was naked in her own place now. She was free. She got up and giggled. She saw that she left a wet spot on the couch. This new slick and slimy feeling was caused by the naked women on her screen. She had to see more. No more control anymore. No more purity. Just her naked and porn.

Her phone was left on silent and forgotten. She padded fully nude to her desk and laptop, pulling on her nipples, feeling the electric pleasure course through her body.

“This throbbing feeling feels so good; I don't want it to go away just yet. I need to see more.”

For obvious reasons, she decided to stick with X since it was free to sign up. She made a modest anonymous account (just the bare minimum) and looked for the Instagram models and was surprised a few did have full nudity on their X pages.

Izzy was absolutely fascinated. Their bodies, their outfit choices, their poses. And of course things slowly escalated from there in such a short time. Izzy didn't fully realize this, but with porn being so in your face in the modern era, it wasn't long before sensual nudes led to more lewd and obscene content. She didn't mind.

“This is what adults do. Is this what they watch? I want to be an adult like them. I'll keep watching.”

Izzy so desperately wanted to make up for lost time.

“I don't care if this is sinful. I don't want to watch anything else.”

She had a full-body high of arousal.

Hours passed by as Izzy leaked all over her office chair, humping slowly as she liked and followed more and more black women owing their pleasure. She saw so much going into their pussies. Things she didn't even know what they were. She studied their bodies. She liked them shaved down there. She could see everything.

Oddly, she didn't care too much for men and their penises. Every time she saw a naked black man on her screen, she thought about Marco, and then she got sad and didn't want to watch men anymore.

“I only want to see porn that looks like me. I like watching porn that looks like me. I like seeing naked black women. I need to see more naked black women,” Izzy said to herself.

Then she said out loud. “I really do like watching porn.”

Izzy finally realized the gravity of her situation. In just a short amount of time, she has gone from a pious, pure church virgin to a bi-curious naked budding porn addict. She smiled.

“I want to change. I want this to get worse. I need to see more. I need to watch more women like her,” Izzy said out loud. Each affirmation was confirming the fire between her legs. She wanted to touch herself, but she didn't want to ruin it. She didn't want the feeling to go away, but she had so much more porn to watch.

“I don't need TV. I'll just pay for internet and watch porn. It's been a few hours already, and I cannot stop.”

Then she stumbled upon her first goon caption.

A curator called Shad0wgoone had entered her feed and she was absolutely captivated. He mostly did hypnotic writing captions, but what she read was a call to arms to fully own her pleasure. His selection of women as well as his hypnotic mantras really did something to her. She started scrolling nonstop.

He said so many things that were so porn-positive::

It’s not a big deal. You stay inside and put good things inside your pussy. You watch your screens and tell your brain it’s good sex. It’s not a big deal. It’s gooning.

You didn’t realize how much you need masturbation to regulate yourself. You need this more than ever. You NEED to do this to feel normal. YOU NEED PORN.

Some seek out partners and date. You sought out porn and now your life is better. Porn is your constant companion that will never hurt you.

The last caption really hit home. But he was right. Izzy gasped. “OMG… Porn really is better than people. It feels soo. right.” Izzy felt like she found home.

“I'm going to get more addicted to porn. I need this. I can't wait to start gooning for real.”

Izzy continued to deny her urge to touch herself.

“Not yet, I just started doing this; I'll know when it's the right time.”

The naked naive woman stayed glued to her screen for the rest of the night, staring at hundreds of naked women on her screen. Her nipples were hard. Her breath was shallow, and her pussy was throbbing. She loved it all.