greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,

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"And he took me to the river, where he slowly let me drown." (x2?)

It's currently 74˚F, overcast, and muggy here in Providence. In Georgia or Alabama, this would be called early May. I suppose there are no "dog days of summer" in New England. The weather is dragging me down, as are many other things. The weather likely gets more credit than it deserves, being such an attention whore, such a voyeur.

I haven't written anything in four days.

I've sat here, mostly, wishing I could reach the sea. Uncertain why I can't. I've sat here listening to my life ticking off its seconds.

This year has not gone well. I was promised the year that would make the last twenty worth all the work and shit and failure, and I got this year, instead. There's an entire essay in the particulars of this vagary. I won't ever write it, most likely.

It's ironic how much I loathe the internet.

We're set to random this afternoon. Which explains the non-linear progression of this entry. We're also slipping in and out of the pluralis majestatis for no reason I can readily discover.

I'm trying to make peace with the tattoo. No, it's not black. It's darker, but it's never going to be black, or grey. Interestingly, it is almost exactly the same color as the lacework of veins it covers, only many shades darker, which creates a peculiar effect. Were the tattoo black, there would be no such effect (and this would be desirable). Some days, I don't mind it. Some days, I almost like it, some days I hate it. It never itched. It has essentially healed. It's the first. Maybe the last. No idea. It has failed as a form of masochism, if we consider physical pain. It has succeeded beautifully in the domain of psychological masochism.

I'm missing the Olympics. Yesterday on Twitter (shudder), several people attempted to explain to me, in 142 characters or less, how to watch them live online by utilizing things with names like VPN and Tunnelbear and Witopia...looping all this mess together somehow, and giving people money, and...I'm pretty sure taximetrics and numerical taxonomy and character matrices are simpler to make sense of, actually. I just want to watch the Olympics, not spend days fucking around with computer shit. I miss the pre-cable days of three channels (NBC, ABC, CBS...four if you count PBS), when television was FREE, so long as you bought a television and paid your electric bill. When it was no more technical than understanding how an electrical cord is plugged into a wall socket. By the way, most of that advice I received yesterday amounted to "this is how you steal from NBC." Not that I care. Except it points back to the fostering of these entitlement issues. But. "Triggering fraud detection systems is a big nuisance." Um...yeah. Theft can be a hassle.

Time to wrap this up. It'll only get worse.

Below the Quick,
Aunt Beast
Tags: "my year" that wasn't, computer stuff, lost days, not writing, olympics, tattoos, television, the sea, then vs. now, weather

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