Perhaps some people might have a lot of fun with detangling this cryptic "brain knot clot" of odd metaphor soup....

"Geistesblitz" is German and describes an Eureka-Moment. I like this German word, because it contains the word "Blitz" - which translates to "lightning bolt" or "flash". This reminds me of the Lichtenberg figures.

Lichtenberg figures are branching electric discharges with fractal properties:

On this website is a great video/gif showcasing Iichtenberg figures burned into a wood table:

[please, everyone reading this, do not attempt to reproduce Lichtenberg figures; the amount of voltage needed kills]

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For the topic of non-linear/divergent thinking I found this German website helpful and well-summarized. (Unfortunately it is only available in German.)

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The alpha and omega in my drawing represent "point A" - the starting point of thought, and "point B" - the final thought. The branching plot between these points describes the "detours" into partially related topics to "point A/staring thought" - the core feature of divergent thinking. Often this kind of thinking appears merely incoherent.

In short, this branching plot just illustrates a non-linear train of thought, which disperses into many other detours of thought - that feed back - or loop back to the previous or main train of thought.

This is literally the behavior of a chaotic system.

happy pride pt 2

Crossed Wires. 👁️💧

Layer 01, Layer 02, Layer 03

sorry if my tone came as harsh but i was kinda just surprised cause some asks that i didnt answer publicly read as passive aggressive to me and about something that i didnt even know people would misinterpret about so and my mental health is also not helping me with this

TLDR cause some still think i said i came up with the name ?

In the post about their names I said "june's name came first" as in when we were thinking of names in our private chat we thought of june's(the first daughter's not the name itself) name first in our convo and I said "it was faye's idea" as in like it was their idea when we were talking about names.... in our dc chat...

i meant it in a how did we come up with the name! kind of thing not i claim that this is our name or we were original in coming up w the name litearlly just meant it as a we liked the name june not we came up with the name and its original

oh, hey there, didn't think you'd spot me down here. yeah, yeah that's right, I'm the little guy that chews on the server wires. when the server crashes? all me babeyyy

you know how the need to deep clean your living space comes so rarely with things like ADHD that once it actually hits you you're like "okay i gotta start on that before the timer in my head runs out and I can't even THINK about doing it for another 2 months!!!"

average programmer behaviour

It’s a good development that more and more people are getting disillusioned with Biden because it means people aren’t supporting politicians uncritically despite having voted for them.

The next step to make the most of this is to also realize that Biden isn’t even an outstandingly bad or good president and is average in terms of human rights abuses. What is different about Biden is that COVID, an overly gung-ho US imperialist ally (Netanyahu), and following Trump have made it much harder to control the optics and veneer that the US normally maintains.

He isn’t any more or less genocidal than any of his predecessors or anyone else we’ve personally voted for in the past, but he’s having trouble maintaining the illusion that there is such a thing as a just United States. The curtain that is usually there has been torn by a confluence of events and the machinery that has always been here is easier to see.

While Wednesday’s getting a knife in the gut, far away Morticia is struck with a phantom knife to her heart. She knows, she knows, something awful has happened to her daughter. She needs her, a mother always knows.

The car hasn’t even ceased moving before she is throwing herself from the vehicle. She storms through the gates. Morticia is met with flashing lights, crowds of unnerved teenagers, police and worse. She ignores them all.

She slams open the door to the dorm.

The room is dark, illumintated only by the Red Moon that shines through the extravagant window. A long shadow centers the room, at the mouth sit two huddled figures. They stink of dirt and death and blood. These mean nothing to an Addams, but it is the fear that permeates the air which shakes her to her core.

Wednesday and Enid are sitting as one, hands clenched together. Enid’s head rests upon Wednesday’s shoulder, and Wednesday’s head on hers. Enid’s free arm is wrapped around her daughters shoulder, and Wednesday’s is a fist clutching the amulet around her neck.

The unexpected intrusion mutilates their peace and in a blink, Morticia’s view of her daughter is obstructed by a growling blonde, the ripple of transformation sitting uneasily below the surface of her skin, ready and waiting.

“Mother.”

The tone is familiar, indifferent with a hint of loathing. But as the blonde recognises the woman in front of them and retreats back to her daughters side, Morticia can’t help but wonder, who is this stranger sitting before her in her daughters skin.

Eyes wide, body trembling, clutching to another, full of emotion and life and fear. Perhaps her daughter had died after all.

detective comics #509

[ID: Bruce Wayne sleeping in his penthouse, his eyes squeezed shut as the narration reads, ‘Gordon's strained laugh sounds hollow, but it echos in the Batman's mind... and haunts his dreams...” Bruce awakens to a hand on his shoulder and before he can think, he's twisting it and holding it down. The panel expands, revealing the hand belongs to Alfred as he's almost toppling over! He cries out, “M-master Bruce—my arm!” as Bruce groggily realizes who it is. He lets go at once as Alfred moves to the end of the bed and holds his arm while stammering an apology, “S-sorry, s-sir... Sorry if I startled you.” Bruce looks at him with aghast as he cries out, “My god, Alfred—I almost broke your arm!” Alfred reasons, “You must have been having a nightmare, sir.” as Bruce sits up and puts his face in his hands. He weepily dismisses, “A nightmare—what kind of an excuse is that? Old friend... forgive me...” Alfred reassures, “Nothing to forgive, sir. Just bad nerves, sir.” END ID]

OH MY GOD IM LOSING MY ABSOLUTE FUCKING MIND. NICKY AND RICHEY ACTUALLY FUCKING KISS DURING THE LIFE BECOMING A LANDSLIDE THINGY

AM I MENTAL??? AM I GRABBING LOSE STRAWS HERE???? IM CERTAIN THEY KISS!

LIKE FUCK JDB SINGING ‘THOUGH THERE IS NO TRUE LOVE’ LIKE YES THERE IS!! ON STAGE WITH YOU BBY <3333333

If anybody wants to know what the perfect depiction of recovery looks like in media, I think you should look no further than Anton Ego in Ratatouille. Weight gain is such a beautiful part of recovery, yet there are few pieces of media willing to depict weight gain as something joyful or even neutral. Weight gain is a beautiful thing in recovery. We need to start depicting it as so.

Crossed Wires. 👁️💧

Layer 01

If it’s not Current Events and/or Mind Stuff keeping me awake it’s the fact I can feel my own blood/become hyper-aware of how full all my blood vessels are if not mentally occupied and I hate how my feet veins especially tend to feel in most otherwise comfortable positions, hence the tossing n turning

THE FACT HE BROKE MY ART BLOCK

That dawning sense of dread when the coffee kicks in and you realize you didn't have enough food in your stomach before you drank it.