Hi,
I was wondering if I could bother you for a few minutes.
It's nothing serious, I just wanted to ask a few questions, possibly some advice, as you seem to be the mentor, or the Old One in my current present.
It is nothing with work, or you, or anyone around us; just a few musings I've got lost in.
So, first, are we friends?
I mean, am I friend to you?
The landslide of nonsense I'm about to crash into your ears I usually like only inflicting on friends. They sort of agreed to a certain social contract that they are willing. Are you, is what I meant to ask.
The hilarity of all this is the sheer triviality:
So I met the coded one a long while ago, on webs of post-natural non-spiders. We talked about literature and how us being able to talk about literature grants us such pedestals we live on. How nice it is that we can shout to each other from one neighbouring pedestal to the other. Things like that.
Then, we disconnected, allowing me to continue a blossoming reverence and adoration to a lovely fellow, who shared the space-time continuum coordinates.
-- I'm sorry, I twist the absolute shit out of trivial things to make them sound as serious as they are in my head. (See also: this post.) --
So this latest fellow, the one without jealousy, is the epitome of graceful disgust, general, and pointed outwards. He is serenity, who fell in love with Athena. He also fell in love with Bacchus and Hades. He could. He can!
He also maintains a platonic relationship with Apollo, and a souly-fleshy being with a spirit wrapped in human, who happens to be the first one.
-- According to a whole different tree of religious escape than the rest of the lovers. --
The one without jealousy shared some of his lovers with me, and little me, you know, the one without a clue clung to the lips of those great Greek lovers together with him and were thoroughly entertained in the process. Delighted. Deported.
-- From the other, fleshy dimension where we were wearing textile and meat. --
And then my fleshy weekend home went elsewhere in that dimension. It had to, apparently. Some pride, or survival, or I don't even know. Something humany. It went to a place that is used for fleshy weekend homes to pseudo-meet and pseudo-writhe in a wet sort of, moany way.
And then, out of nowhere, the coded one reappeared on the sketchy map, and talked, and existed again. Even in matter!
The coded one is pale and dark in hair and eyes. Should you be around, you'd only see a vision of future, excelled, perfected. You'd get a whiff of the common, and you'd also know it's an assassin's tool to hide. Hidden in plain sight. Among the rest of the herd.
Should you see the coded one's fleshy weekend home -
-- He has one, too, you see where this is headed, right? --
-, it'd stride blurred among the rest, exuding too much of the one living inside. You'd see a neutral smile, maybe feel a bump, and if you were lucky, you'd also get pierced in your eyes and in yourself and in your heart and brain and pores.
With a look.
Through that look, the coded one would select you and claim you, or only your weekend home, or both.
You see, the special case with our issue here, is that the coded one only got a steady hold and ownership over me, not the weekend home.
I was captured and lived free, against my will. I have been forced into a home in the wilds, whereas I belonged to a whole different dimension's descendant.
It was cruel and I've felt misplaced, disowned, owned, left alone, and embraced.
Now for the technical part, my friend. The ownership of myself and my weekend home, they both belong to me, right?
Should I claim it back, as I ache to? Having someone rule over me is not a safe feeling, nor is it constant. It merely signals a present that provides an option for the owner to use me to a specific purpose, or not at all.
You see, claiming me had been sort of in exchange for me enjoying, or at least wanting to be used to that specific purpose, and other. Used, in general. To be put to use. To be a source of effective comfort, joy, and amusement.
Or should I just let the coded one keep the ownership, and let the belongings be forgotten, leaving me in a corner; a puppet not used, staring, whining, merely locked in my own fleshy weekend home forever?
You can see in which direction I'm leaning to, don't you?
Is that right? Should I be strong and reclaim the kingdom of me, to myself? Should I just abandon coded ones and first ones and all the ones and just roam around, random, and happy, or at least content, in worlds excluding them, and the experience of owning and being owned by them?
What do you think? What would you do, the godly one?
What should I do?
I was wondering if I could bother you for a few minutes.
It's nothing serious, I just wanted to ask a few questions, possibly some advice, as you seem to be the mentor, or the Old One in my current present.
It is nothing with work, or you, or anyone around us; just a few musings I've got lost in.
So, first, are we friends?
I mean, am I friend to you?
The landslide of nonsense I'm about to crash into your ears I usually like only inflicting on friends. They sort of agreed to a certain social contract that they are willing. Are you, is what I meant to ask.
The hilarity of all this is the sheer triviality:
So I met the coded one a long while ago, on webs of post-natural non-spiders. We talked about literature and how us being able to talk about literature grants us such pedestals we live on. How nice it is that we can shout to each other from one neighbouring pedestal to the other. Things like that.
Then, we disconnected, allowing me to continue a blossoming reverence and adoration to a lovely fellow, who shared the space-time continuum coordinates.
-- I'm sorry, I twist the absolute shit out of trivial things to make them sound as serious as they are in my head. (See also: this post.) --
So this latest fellow, the one without jealousy, is the epitome of graceful disgust, general, and pointed outwards. He is serenity, who fell in love with Athena. He also fell in love with Bacchus and Hades. He could. He can!
He also maintains a platonic relationship with Apollo, and a souly-fleshy being with a spirit wrapped in human, who happens to be the first one.
-- According to a whole different tree of religious escape than the rest of the lovers. --
The one without jealousy shared some of his lovers with me, and little me, you know, the one without a clue clung to the lips of those great Greek lovers together with him and were thoroughly entertained in the process. Delighted. Deported.
-- From the other, fleshy dimension where we were wearing textile and meat. --
And then my fleshy weekend home went elsewhere in that dimension. It had to, apparently. Some pride, or survival, or I don't even know. Something humany. It went to a place that is used for fleshy weekend homes to pseudo-meet and pseudo-writhe in a wet sort of, moany way.
And then, out of nowhere, the coded one reappeared on the sketchy map, and talked, and existed again. Even in matter!
The coded one is pale and dark in hair and eyes. Should you be around, you'd only see a vision of future, excelled, perfected. You'd get a whiff of the common, and you'd also know it's an assassin's tool to hide. Hidden in plain sight. Among the rest of the herd.
Should you see the coded one's fleshy weekend home -
-- He has one, too, you see where this is headed, right? --
-, it'd stride blurred among the rest, exuding too much of the one living inside. You'd see a neutral smile, maybe feel a bump, and if you were lucky, you'd also get pierced in your eyes and in yourself and in your heart and brain and pores.
With a look.
Through that look, the coded one would select you and claim you, or only your weekend home, or both.
You see, the special case with our issue here, is that the coded one only got a steady hold and ownership over me, not the weekend home.
I was captured and lived free, against my will. I have been forced into a home in the wilds, whereas I belonged to a whole different dimension's descendant.
It was cruel and I've felt misplaced, disowned, owned, left alone, and embraced.
Now for the technical part, my friend. The ownership of myself and my weekend home, they both belong to me, right?
Should I claim it back, as I ache to? Having someone rule over me is not a safe feeling, nor is it constant. It merely signals a present that provides an option for the owner to use me to a specific purpose, or not at all.
You see, claiming me had been sort of in exchange for me enjoying, or at least wanting to be used to that specific purpose, and other. Used, in general. To be put to use. To be a source of effective comfort, joy, and amusement.
Or should I just let the coded one keep the ownership, and let the belongings be forgotten, leaving me in a corner; a puppet not used, staring, whining, merely locked in my own fleshy weekend home forever?
You can see in which direction I'm leaning to, don't you?
Is that right? Should I be strong and reclaim the kingdom of me, to myself? Should I just abandon coded ones and first ones and all the ones and just roam around, random, and happy, or at least content, in worlds excluding them, and the experience of owning and being owned by them?
What do you think? What would you do, the godly one?
What should I do?
