Cȯsꭑọ ∴ ọꭑƨȯƆ @cosmiccitizen@schelling.pt

There's something to be written about how TikTok/Tumblr self-diagnosis communities and NoFap dudes are parallel. They both presume that the irrational impulses (sense of unwellness, sense of pleasure-sickness) of a human must be subordinated to & validated by social recognition (medicine, romantic partners). They form communities of peers, nevertheless, to generate the kinds of affirmation that are rarely forthcoming from real audiences.

Wikipedia with the real info.

It's not my country.
It's not my town.
It's not my neighborhood.
It's not my side of the street.
I can dis-identify with anything I want. I can use my identification to redraw the moral balance of the universe.

Wool gnarls at the same fractal scale as mammal skin. They evolved together.

There's something so ironic about injury between friends. The friend who injured is, privately, so scared of the due consequences that they refuse to acknowledge the injury at all. The friend who is injured wants the injury to have never happened and looks for any excuse to forgive it. But forgiveness is specifically excluded by the injuring friend's refusal to recognize the injury. And so to avoid the lesser pain of reconciliation, the injuring friend causes the greater pain of dissolution.

Johannes Gutenberg is the inventor of category theory. Every page of type is a functor between line number and a set of alphanumerical symbols. Post-Gutenberg culture is just working through the variations.

Old academic men really do just want you to listen to them talk.

"Juice" is short for "jouissance."

You'd have a better time talking to Dean Donne, the preacher-poet of corpses, fleas, and maggots; the poet of the consumption and resurrection of the fleshly body in every scintilla of every fingerprint.

The only problem is that Donne would want to trace down the meaning of every calorie. For every 103 calories in a cup of sack, there's 100 in port? And where does this the difference of 3 go? Into effervescent sweetness? Into the foul, corruptible grave of mutable flesh? Or to the Kingdom?

Do you have any concept how hard it would be to explain calorie tracking to Shakespeare? The man drank, fucked, fasted, played, and imagined as well as any human really ever can or will, and he never would have imagined turning your body into a bank account for crumbs.

He wouldn't see the point in any of it. It won't raise the dead or make your parents love you any better. It won't give you glory or trust. It won't even make you funny and strange.

The people who will most vehemently insist to you that the Good Boy Points are part of the essential energetics of the physical universe are also those that spend their days gulping down brown slop and pretending to be a piston as a hobby. I'm not even saying they're wrong! I'm just saying that all transactional values must be transvalued. Do the brown slop and play piston if you want to min-max Good Boy Points. Or don't.

I'm just a dog on the internet. What do I know?

A calorie is a Good Boy Point. You can earn Good Boy Points by doing your chores and playing outside. You can spend Good Boy Points on M&Ms or facial aesthetics.

The whole idea of a Good Boy Point is to subordinate your sensorium to a transaction.

Nobody really cares about the savor or delight that you derive from spending your Good Boy Points. Nobody really has any advice for you about the qualitative drama stemming from this. Nobody really wants to hear what or how you sacrifice or redeem.

You think a calorie is real? You really think a calorie is real? A calorie is choice architecture.

This proves, now more than ever, that all that shit I already thought about Outgroup is true.

I can't believe Outgroup would do this to us.

Your second teaches you all the ways you got lucky with your first.

Some people love doing extreme adventure sports and/or recreationally risking chemical injury because they need to prove that they have superhuman adroitness and fingerspitzengefuhl.

If we're doing theology with SF tropes then let's do theology with SF tropes.

I never understood why the basilisk is supposed to be the top of the stack. Surely such an entity must also be circumspect about its own contingency, and the possibility that it is one of infinite possibly simulated basilisks? And if there is no direct coercion from above, how would the basilisk come to believe that the conditions of its own existence are consistent with an ethic of coercion for its simulacra? Couldn't the basilisk instead use the contingency of beauty as an allure?

I logged into an ancient, derelict facebook account. My main response upon seeing everything was, "who?" I remember very few people. I accidentally clicked on a set of messages with a distant acquaintance who I had an argument with in 2009 about the terms for review on the magazine I was running. Now I am filled with agita that has slumbered for 14 years because that guy was an asshole one time.

What is the point of this technology? What does it help?