NireBryce

reality is the battlefield

the first line goes in Cohost embeds

๐Ÿฅ I am not embroiled in any legal battle
๐Ÿฆ other than battles that are legal ๐ŸŽฎ

I speak to the universe and it speaks back, in it's own way.

mastodon

email: contact at breadthcharge dot net

I live on the northeast coast of the US.

'non-functional programmer'. 'far left'.

conceptual midwife.

https://cohost.org/NireBryce/post/4929459-here-s-my-five-minut

If you can see the "show contact info" dropdown below, I follow you. If you want me to, ask and I'll think about it.


NoelBWrites
@NoelBWrites

When you were looking at Grishkin's underlined Russian eye, I studied the skull beneath the skin. When your uncorseted bust was promising pneumatic bliss, I mastered the anguish of the marrow. While you wasted your days in Grishkin's drawing room in pursuit of a feline smell, I crawled between dry ribs. And now that the Abstract Entities are circumambulating your charm and the Brazilian Jaguar is at the gate you have the audacity to come to me to keep your metaphysics warm?

"Whispers of Immortality," paraphrased


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in reply to @NoelBWrites's post:

You're right, but also, how dare you. (I love The Waste Land, I love it a lot, yet it objectively is edgy teenager bull***t. It moved me thought, so uh, that doesn't say anything good about me.)

Everything I say about this man is true but also out of love lmao The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock is pure (future) divorced man angst, but I still think "but indeed there will be time" and feel wistful every once in a while

showed up here specifically to agree with "love song" as an incel touchstone - my main recollection of that poem from high school is thinking "damn this narrator has some weird feelings about women slash being middle-class"