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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

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Part 19 - Mike

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 18 -- Part 20

Pairing: Mike x ofc

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: Drug use (alcohol, weed), minor violence (someone gets punched), a whole lot of ADHD, Mike being Mike, probably some mentions of some inappropriate things.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Yeeting some Mikey your way just because! (I love him, your honor...) God. This chapter has a special place in my heart because a) it's Mike and b) I loved writing this. I wrote most of it in a couple of hours, and I just completely let my ADHD take the lead on it. It was awesome! (Also: Sorry for not getting creative with titles here, that would just be confusing at this point 😂)

Let me know what you think! 🥰

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos (hope you don't mind the random tag)

I hate waiting. I hate it almost as much as I hate making phone calls to our internet provider, who always refuses to accept that I’ve already figured out what the problem is. Right now, I’m doing both. It’s infuriating. ‘Mike, the internet’s down. Can you take a look at that?’ Of course I fucking can, a two year old could do that! There’s usually not even a lot I can do about it, except call someone to fix it, and anyone else could do that, too. But no. It’s gotta be me. Why does it always have to be me?

That being said; I’d rather do this than help downstairs, and since they’ve got no idea what exactly I’m doing anyway, I can just play a game while I’m on hold. And it’s not as if I don’t profit from a working internet connection. I’m running low on movies to watch and half the shit I wanted to see has disappeared off Netflix again. I can’t help it that sometimes I need to watch every Disney movie I can remember from my childhood before my brain lets me watch anything new. And it doesn’t help that Dani refuses to watch any horror movies I haven’t seen yet, because she needs me to tell when the jumpscares are. I don’t mind - it’s cute. The way she curls up next to me with a blanket, and holds onto me when she gets scared… Makes me want to show her every scary movie I’ve ever watched.

Fuck, I’ve got it bad for this girl. But that’s okay, I like it. Even though it’s only been a few weeks since we first went out. And only two weeks since what she thinks is the first time we went out. She’s soft and nice and she’s not just okay with the fact that sometimes I just need to get stoned to shut my brain up, but she actually got stoned with me? She’s pretty great. It’s the insecurities that sometimes get me. Like when she doesn’t trust that I actually mean what I say. I’m a heart-on-sleeve kind of guy. Oh well.

“Hello?”

“Oh!” The phone, right. “Sorry. Hi…” As suspected; the guy on the phone doesn’t believe that what I say is wrong with my connection, is actually what’s wrong with my connection. Yes, I’ve tried turning it off and on again. Yes, everything’s plugged in where it should be plugged in. Yes, right passwords and whatnot. It’s really not one of those, dude, I ran basic diagnostics. Thanks. Why do I even still do that beforehand? Right, because if it is one of those, I won’t have to call to begin with, and I’ll do anything to avoid that.

“It can take a few min…”

“Dude, I’m so sorry to interrupt.” I really don’t have the patience for this. “I’ve tried all of this before I even picked up the phone…” Although I could have gotten everything done in the time I was on hold. “I’m telling you…” Finally, he agrees to put me through to someone who actually knows anything about the technical side of things. Great.

“Internet is up again,” I announce to the full - and excruciatingly busy - kitchen. I’m just in time to see Leon toss a bag of weed on the table. “Nice.” Wait, I was trying to think that…

“I knew there was a reason we kept him around.” Charles. It hurts when he hits the bone in my shoulder, but I’m fairly sure it hurts him more, even though there’s nothing on his face that reveals that little grain of truth.

“Yeah, it would be so awful if you couldn’t watch porn for one night.” Why is the word ‘porn’ so hot out of the mouth of my girlfriend? Wait. I’ve been saying ‘girlfriend’. Is it too soon to call her my girlfriend? Oh, what gives. She’s hugging me, I like it, and I’m going to be sad when she stops, that’s all that matters. Something Charles says about not needing any porn tonight registers vaguely, but I do catch the way he winks at Dani. What a dick.

“Think you can still get laid with a broken nose and a black eye, Brandon?” It’s entirely unlikely I can take him on my own, but I feel I can count on some support from Geralt - or even better… Sol. She’s fierce - and she’s the only one who’s ever hit Charles in the nuts. We all applaud her for that a little. Dani’s arms tighten around me. I don’t look away from Charles, I just pull her closer to me. When I finally do look down at her. She’s biting her lip, looking adorable. I can’t help but kiss her. Maybe it’s a little much, considering we’re in public. Maybe I’m just shamelessly marking territory here. I can’t say I care much right now.

“Where’s Sherlock?” Lucky bastard is upstairs, not getting mixed up in all of this. I was almost just as lucky, yet here I am.

“In his room,” I say, “he wouldn’t last five minutes tonight if he had to deal with all of this, too.” Neither would I, so I’m glad I skipped most of it. But not enough. Dani puts her hands on the sides of my face. Fuck, I’m clenching my jaw - so hard she noticed, apparently.

“Relax,” she whispers softly. I have no clue how long we’ve been standing there. I’d say it’s gotta be a while, but I’ve been wrong before.

“We’ve got it from here,” Geralt says. He jerks his head in the direction of the door. That means ‘Mikey, get out’, but in the nice way. You can’t grow up as me and not pick up on these things, honestly.

Taking a walk with Dani beats taking a walk without Dani. Facts. There’s one little thing though. She’s slow… -er than me, I should say. I could walk circles around her, I really could.

“I’m not fast enough for you, am I?” How does she always know? I smile apologetically. And I really do feel bad about it! I swear! My eyes flutter over her body - that always wreaks havoc on my brain. It goes: nice, nice, nice, nice, very nice, wish she’d turn around, nice, nice, she’s smiling, cute, mine, what was I thinking about? I was trying to get some form of… Right!

“Come here,” I say, “climb on.”

“Mike, there’s no way you can carry me,” she laughs. I love to see her laugh. It’s fucking amazing, the way she laughs. That’s kinda what made me fall in love with her on pretty much the very first day of the year. And then it took me like fifteen weeks to ask her out. Which, honestly… not a great move. Ange actually had to stop me from deleting the text I wrote to ask her out for the thirteenth time - yes, I counted them. Come to think of it, I should probably thank her for that one of these days. Where was I? Right.

“Yeah, I can, come on!” I’m not gonna be much faster with her on my back, but I’m gonna be able to tire myself out, and that’s kinda the point. And I get to touch her. Definite bonus. You’d think - I know I did - that her touching me would be a bonus, too, but it’s very distracting. Because she’s trying very hard to distract me.

She’s spent enough time in class with me, you’d think, to know that distracting me isn’t exactly an Olympic level sport. Anyone can do that. Squirrels can do that. Leaves can do that. Those little tiny bits of dust that you can see float through the air when it’s spring and there’s sunlight streaming in through a window, and it’s nice and warm and you’re inside, but you really don’t want to be inside, so you look at those little dust-thingies move and you’re really curious how it would feel to just float down, and you spend a little too much time breathing in their direction to make them move, until your teacher notices and asks what the fuck you are doing and you also don’t know the answer to the question they’re asking, so they tell you you’re not paying attention, but is it really your fault, because you’re just not made to sit still on a chair for hours on end, but no, it’s your problem and they tell you to leave the room because you’re disturbing the class when you were really just wondering what it would feel like to be dust and nothing was the matter and you weren’t disturbing anyone until they called you out on not paying attention for a tiny little bit? Mike, focus. Right.

Oh no. Focus just takes me back to her hands. They aren’t the problem, but they kinda make me wish they were. The problem is the fact that she won’t stop kissing my neck, and every last one of those kisses is kinda altering the fit of my jeans, if you catch my drift. Fuck.

“Babe, stop.” Of course she doesn’t. Cue adorable noise of sadness. Fine. She wants to play? I’ll play. There’s a few trees nearby, and I walk her straight across the grass to get to one. She thinks I can’t carry her? She’s gonna have to think again. I pull one of her legs to my other hip.

“Mikey!” she shrieks, but she can’t help but let go of my neck. This is only going to be impressive if I don’t drop her - that would be kinda sad. “What are you doing, you idiot? Oh.” I’m a little proud of myself that I actually managed to do this, and a lot happy to see her pinned against this tree, with her legs wrapped around my waist.

“Kiss?” I ask. I’d tell myself I have to stop grinning like an idiot, except, no I fucking don’t. She pulls me in - hell yeah! - and kisses me. It’s great when she does that. Her lips honestly feel so amazing. But the tip of her nose is cold against my cheek. Oh, fuck, she moves her hips, and they’re kinda directly over mine. Goddamn, feels good. No, no, why does she stop kissing me? That’s not good.

“Aw, baby.” She presses her lips to my neck again, and I feel her tongue on my skin. Every move makes me grind my hips into her, and she’s moaning softly against my skin every time I do. The sound makes my cock twitch, and that’s of no use to me, because I can’t exactly have her right now, which means this was - all things considered - a fairly terrible idea by yours truly. It really doesn’t help that I’m holding her up with two hands firmly on her ass, either. It’s so squeezable. Soft. I’m really not helping this whole pants-situation. Ehh, I’ll sort that out later. That’s what math is for, right? Right now, I just want to keep kissing my girl.

“Mikey,” she moans against my lips. I know she’s trying to speak, but her lips feel good and they’re soft and warm and I don’t want to stop… “Mikey, stop.” Ok. I freeze, and slowly move away.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she says. Good, she’s still laughing. That makes me happy. “Let’s get back?” I like that idea. But she shouldn’t think I’m done with her, because I’m not.

“Listen.” That’s Marshall. He’s been dealing with something, and I don’t think any of us have bothered to ask what it is. Not that he’d have answered, we know him well enough by now. “You’re not the only people on the planet. Get a fucking room.” Okay. So it’s about a girl, otherwise he wouldn’t care. I’m not going to scream at him, because that would involve taking my mouth off… Hey! I have to glare at him now. A second ago, I was making out with Dani, now I’m not. This is a problem.

“Marshall,” she says, “go find yourself someone to suck your dick, and leave us alone.” Let me try not to laugh at that. Marshall seems plenty ticked off about it, which adds to how funny I find all of this, to be completely honest. I’m not gonna laugh, I’m not gonna laugh… I mean, at least he backs off? My thoughts are still all over the place. I was going to just pretend they aren’t, but Dani points it out. Not in a ‘Mike, stop being so fucking annoying’ kind of way, but in a sweet, caring ‘anything we need to take care of to make it better’ kind of way, and… I know it’s way too soon to say something way too affectionate, but I’m really having trouble keeping my mouth shut.

“Herbal remedy?” she offers with a sly smile. Fucking marry me. Don’t say that out loud! We walk to the living room, looking for a place to sit down for a second. From the corner of my eye, I notice Dani makes some gesture at Marshall, who is talking to some girl - I don’t know her. Judging from the reflection in the window, she’s sticking her tongue in her cheek. I try not to laugh - again. This is a horrible night for me. I can’t laugh at anything, dammit.

I sit down and pull Dani into my lap, but she gets up immediately.

“My roommates are here,” she says. I’ve never met them, but I’ve heard some things about them. For one, I know Sloane is going to be majorly disappointed when she sees she’s already too late to get something going with Sy. I don’t know why she’s after him - possibly because Dani’s review was good. Is it insecure of me to question whether she thinks he’s better in bed than I am? I mean, she isn’t complaining, but we’re a long way from keeping the whole house awake like Geralt and Sol do on occasion. Oh well.

“Mike!” Hand in front of eyes, waving. Hand. Waving. OH! My head snaps up, and I remember just in time the bag of stuff I’m holding isn’t closed.

“Second,” I say, closing it before getting up. “Hi!” Sloane and Ariel don’t seem impressed, and honestly, who can blame them. I didn’t notice they were there for the first few seconds they were standing right in front of me. They introduce themselves, and Dani kinda quickly leads them away again to introduce them to the rest of the guys. It takes a while before she comes back, and she stands next to me while I roll a joint. I just keep working. I hope she knows I’m not ignoring her. When her hand brushes past my cheek, I lean into her touch. After some time, I hear a little bit of a tussle next to me, but if I look up now, this is never getting done. Just a few more seconds and... Done! I put everything back in my pockets and look up just in time to see Charles get real mad.

“I think it’s time to get the fuck out of here,” he says before taking a swing at some guy I don’t recognize. Dani! Don’t ask me how, but I can hear her breathing, it stands out from all the other sounds all the other people are making, even though the room has gone eerily quiet due to this scuffle. I turn my head to her so fast my neck protests, but big fucking deal.

“Hey…” I get up and pull her into my arms. She’s upset, but I didn’t see what happened. Fuck. “Come here.”

“Are you alright, Dani?” Charles asks without looking away from the guy, who seems to decide it’s probably for the best if he just fucks off. I can see Ariel standing across the room; she’s next to Leon, and she’s glaring at me. Fuck, I’m not making a great impression here. Sy calls for everyone to mind their own business, and the fact that everyone stops staring relaxes me a little. But only a little.

“Wanna go outside?” Dani asks. I can tell she’s upset, and it’s fucked up that she’s taking care of me right now instead of the other way around.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” I hope my eyes apologize enough for now, because I can’t bring myself to say ‘sorry I’m a terrible boyfriend’ out loud in a room filled with people I barely know.

“Actually, I could really use some of that joint right now,” she says. Apparently, she doesn’t want to talk in a room full of people, either.

It’s quieter outside, and I feel like I can finally think straight. We’re not the only people there, but the ones who are there - August, Anjelica, Sol and Geralt - are good company. With the same idea I had, apparently. Except no one is smoking.

“Did you guys step outside when you saw me leave the living room?” I ask. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and they’re not too proud to just admit to it, either. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll roll another one, here.” I hand the joint in my pocket to Dani and sit down at the only slightly wonky table to get to work on the next one.

“Thanks, Mikey.” Dear, sweet Angie. I love her to bits, we all do. Infinite bonus points to her for keeping August’s head level, too, there’s not a lot of people who can do that.

“Are you almost done?” Dani’s voice is shaky - and so is the rest of her. It’s cold, but it’s not that kind of trembling, I can tell. I finish what I’m doing, hand the product of my hard work to Geralt and pull her into my lap.

“What happened, Dani?” Ange again. She’s so sweet. If August ever breaks up with her, I’m fairly sure none of us will look at him for a while.

“Just some guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Fuck! That’s what I missed? Maybe I’m really not made for this relationship stuff, if I can’t even… Best I can do is hold her right now, I guess.

“Shit, you took care of that?” August asks me, forcing me to tell him it was Charles who ended up kicking him out. No one says anything. No questions, no ‘why not you?’ They understand. But does she? Her friend Ariel clearly didn’t. Everyone stays quiet for a bit, which is kinda nice.

“Anything I can do for you, baby?” No need to get creative in a situation like this one, right? She shakes her head and snuggles up closer. “Hold me,” she says to me, “and get me some of that.” August sees her pointing at him and he hands her the joint. It’s surprising, but he’s a lightweight when it comes to pot. He can drink like no tomorrow, though, and I can see he’s holding a glass of whatever. He hasn’t had enough to be all over Ange yet. Shame, they’re cute when they get all clingy. Geralt and Solveig haven’t had the courage to let go of each other just yet. Seeing Geralt like this sure beats seeing him the week after Sol leaves - or the week after he comes back from seeing her. Not that he gets particularly annoying or anything. Just sighs a lot.

A few minutes go by, and we’re still not talking. Most of us came here for some peace and quiet, anyway. Ange is a chatterbox, but she’s had a bad week. August probably took care of the worst part before they even got here. I wonder if she can even sit comfortably. Alright, I can't make myself laugh right now, they're gonna ask what I'm thinking. Moving on… Sol prefers to be in quieter places, Geralt is going insane with all the chatter inside when he’s standing out here, let alone when he’s in the middle of it, and August just doesn’t like people. I can figure that out about these guys in a heartbeat, but I can’t tell when my own girlfriend is being harassed. Honestly, it feels pretty fucking terrible.

My brain slows down unusually fast. It’s nice, finally some genuine quiet. Dani melts into me, which is awesome. She’s warm, she’s soft, she’s great. Oh, and she smells nice. August and Angie are getting inappropriately touchy, which just makes me laugh. I honestly couldn’t give a damn. They’re great together, and I love seeing people happy and in love. Same goes for Sol and Geralt. Like, who cares if they keep the whole house up all night every once in a while? Why the hell should I be mad that they’re having great sex? Little jealous, maybe… Dani puts her head on my shoulder, and I lean my cheek against her hair. Deep sigh. I used to think it wasn’t for me. I’m still not completely sure I can do it. But fuck, I’m gonna try. I want what they have. Love. Who knows, maybe I’ve already found it?

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser)#mike hellraiser #mike x ofc #mike hellraiser fic #179 crescent street #179CS #179CS19

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safety-pin-punk · 1 year

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Idk if this is punk-adjacent but feels like

It’s damn annoying that just about any website punishes you for trying to protect your online security

I’m using TOR browser whenever I’m streaming something online (and with the crap Netflix is pulling currently, fat chance I’ll ever make an account with them /s)

And I noticed whenever I use TOR rather than Firefox and just my standard VPN, I have to solve at least thrice as many captcha

That’s my point. Why are we getting punished for trying to protect our online security? It’s damn annoying that I have to solve thrice as many captcha just because of the browser I use

^^^^^^^^ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can’t express enough how annoying it is that it is HARD to be anonymous on the internet in the year of our lord 2023

I hate that even without syncing contacts or connecting facebook or turning on location or any of that shit, websites and apps just know who you know and will recommend them as friends. I hate it.

I hate turning off all the ‘tell the world who I am’ options and then constantly getting pop ups saying ‘are you sure you dont want to turn this on?’

I hate that kids feel like they are EXPECTED to put their lives on the internet for everyone to see. I hate that teens feel like they need to post on tiktok constantly to be someone.

I hate that everything is connected to google. I hate that everything wants to know my demographics. I hate that everything was location data.

I want internet usage without being tracked. I want to exist on the internet completely anonymously, only revealing the information that I choose.

#mail tag #i dont know much about computer words or internet stuff #but uuhhhhh #yeah #it fucking sucks

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bisexualgiftedburnout · 1 year

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UN-POPULAR OPINION I THINK: I DONT LIKE WEDNESDAY, not the day, the show on netflix, ANYWAYS HERE IS MY RANT.

The internet is amazing, no one cares about my opinion and yet here it is.

Anyways..

Ok, so on paper it seems really good, and I love Jenna Ortega in it, she played it wonderfully and the latina representation was gorgeous, they nailed her character 100%. But the amount of missed opportunities on that dam show I swear. First of all and probably the most annoying TEENAGERS DONT TALK OR ACT LIKE THAT TF. l

Like I'm around that age and the amount of weird outfits and random coffee shop things and all that was so fucking annoying like a classic case of adults not knowing how to write teens. Also they never fucking went to class. Not once. I get that the plot was about the mystery, but they could have at least used it as a setting once or twice. Or implied there was homework, like, more than once. They went to plant school that one time but THAT WAS IT. As someone who is aggressively overwhelmed by homeowkr that I'm paralyzed by it this was widely inaccurate. And the use of the words "normie" and "outcast" was so fucking annoying. Like please stop.

Also, I feel like the plot could have been a little deeper, if they had just been more explicit about people they were representing. I've heard fan theories about how the whole thing was a metaphor for people on the autism spectrum, and I actually really liked that idea, I'm not nerodivergent, I don't think, but Wednesday seems like she would fit this well, especially with the plot line of her neglecting friends because she was extremly focused on her SPECIAL PROJECT TM. but they did zero with that. She spoke very briefly about how the pilgrams had stolen land, that was great, but that could have been taken further. When laurel said that thing about how nevermore was on "stolen" land I thought Wednesday was going to pull out books and maps and shit but NOTHING. Also, yes, I know, including a couple of black characters in the background was a ton of project for Tim Burton but come on, they could have gotten better roles/plotlines (one dead, one a dangerous bigot, one with a dysfucntional family who got the spotlight for one episode), there could have been more minorities in the cast, THEY COULD HAVE USED THEIR EXISTENCE TO TELL MORE STORIES. Wasted potential. And the one that bothers me most. WEDNESDAY ADAMS IS THE MOST QUEER CODED CHARACTER I HAVE EVER SEEN. SHES AND OUTCAST HER ONLY REAL CONNECTION WAS WITH HER FUCKING ROOMATE . THEY COULD HAVE KISSED, COME ON MAN. Wednesday was an "outcast", literally every gay kid ever. Come on. I'm too tired to lay out the arguments, but that bitch ain't straight, infact I'm pretty sure she's not even bi, girl's a lesbian. Doesn't want to turn into her parents who's whole thing is that they are madly hetero for each other that's a dead fucking giveaway. And enid's whole plot line where they actually name dropped conversion therapy was weird. And then she became a werewolf anyways? Like what was that plotline? No I'll never change for you, my disrespectful mother who wants me to be different. But I changed by myself to be that exact thing so it's fine now. Like let's be real, this was supposed to mean something, some writer thought this was meant to be like a thing about uniqueness or something, but even then what was this????

But you know what, the main plot was decent, I actually got invested, love Wednesday, and even though they hired adults to play children at least they didn't sexualize them.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday and enid #the addams family #thing addams #tim burton #queer #nerodiversity #neurodivergent #representation #lesbian #biseuxal #gay girls #gay #dont sexualize children

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dimosar · 1 year

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so Discord is removing Numbers from your handle huh

Are they serious? The idea that strangers could GUESS your @... and the chilling truth that this may indeed be the point. Discord, a CHAT service, adding social media “discoverability” shit into their app…maybe a timeline? doesn’t it make you mad?? Doesnt it piss you off??When are we going to start making bombs?

Imagining a moment in Demolition Man where stallone gets unfrozen and is handed like, a cell phone. It has a list of phone numbers like he expects, but also a "discover tab" where you can just call a random person whose phone number is trending today.

I love how ‘Social Media’ as an industry has been taking the project of the Internet, IE "All people should be able to connect to each other and have access to goods and services they want/need" (itself a notion with a few red flags, but hey fuck it why not) and advancing it into "all people should be MADE to connect to ALL other people, and the goods and services should have constant access to them at all times" just flattening everything from an at-will community into a philosopher's stone from Fullmetal Alchemist of roiling conflict and anguish, all while Brands hurl bull SHIT down at us from the top of the pit.

I remember something Twitter's “Jack” said somewhere about how his dream was always to make twitter ‘a global conversation’, like a GLOBAL…CONVERSATION. He was talking about some policy they implemented like the discover tab or not blocking nazis, and something clicked in my head like... these tech people really do think that they can annihilate the very concept of Context. As if these little doodads on the internet can actually Solve human interaction to a permanent end. Turns out the solution to our growing sense of alienation in the 21st century was just that we weren’t all in the same bucket.

This is why social media is so profitable. Its like the crux of neoliberal thought made manifest in every person's pocket all the time. It’s founded on utopian egalitarian principles but is actually really stupid and doesn't really democratize anything as much as it makes strangers fight (which IS fun to watch tbh) and actively resists the formation of resilient communities. Social Media only gets so far as a product because it's a perfect for investors: Nothing means anything and you have no privacy, but don't worry because we’re turning the wasteland into an ad space killing field.

And every system that starts out okay has to eventually be molded into this formula. Even DISCORD. Nothing can exist unless more value can be extracted from it and replaced with cardboard. Netflix Battlepass. And the guys running it always think it will really add to our user experience! Its like if the manhattan project got started because Oppenheimer believed that nukes would help people scrub barnacles off the bottoms of their boats.

#discord #my work

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howdytherepardner · 1 year

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feelings within

in which one goes nowhere, a lot of places, fast

1. there is a sensation in the body when there are needles in major veins in both of one’s arms (if applicable).

it might be easy, or even natural, to expect that this is pain of a certain degree. i imagine the visual, splayed out and propped up like a turkey pre-roast and subbing an oven thermometer for tubes constantly pulling out and pushing in blood via a machine of constant whirs, is largely disquieting for some. the fear of just one needle is enough for some folks to swear off blood donations period and to dissuade from more than a few medical procedures. i’ve never been too avoidant of the situation, being Weird enough to relish the chance to look at the needle embrace the sensation as it washes over.

but having one in both arms is a new experience for me, and with it new that a new discovery. an arm must remain still when the needle is in, and when both are occupied, both must be still. i can’t say what it’s like to lose a limb, but it did make me think of a reversal of the common trope with tools as ‘an extension of the self.’

2. it would not be a stretch to say that the Smart Phone (or a connection to the internet) is very much a tool that becomes a part of us in such a way that the Severing is felt. my little refurbished friend will tend to die when i even think of using the camera in extreme temperatures; a loss when out-and-about creates a particular sense of disturbance, despite knowing that It in many ways is a disturbance.

but i digress. the jump between one arm and none arm is much larger than two to one, which was made somewhat evident by my choice of music as an intended pass time for the two hours. i was listening with wireless earbuds, and while the staff member attending was very gracious to manually insert the left one after i was already still, it was not all the way in - hanging off the pinna, rather than covering the canal entrance. much to consider beyond just the asymmetry of music, but my own hesitance to ask for it to be readjusted. like when waitstaff asks if the food’s alright, and you say that it’s Perfect, despite the fact that it’s not what you wanted (and probably isn’t the best food in the world).

3. I do wonder about that sometimes. It’s the meme that I see sometime, the girl requesting a correction on behalf of her boyfriend (the Daisy/Luigi “he asked for no pickles” remains a standout). I’m sure there’s that element of timidness, with whatever socio/psychological basis that informs it, but I also do think there’s an element of exploration, tolerance, and/or contentedness.

i did ask eventually, encouraging a staff member to not worry about applying pressure. sealed in, the waiting i expected began.

Set the scene a little more. The space is a blend of hospital and office vibes, with cubicle-esque desks on the east end of the open room, with surfaces for donors in the west. Some more simple surfaces for the standard blood donors in the middle, but west most was two rows of the more intricate set-ups. Seats facing each other (my eyes occasionally made contact with others, but only briefly), with the massive blood processing doohicky right next to them. The seats have a screen installed, with Netflix as an option recommended. Another screen on the doohicky, monitoring things like input/output pressure, blood iron content, and importantly for the experience - an estimated time remaining and a progress bar.

4. where a high fantasy element lacks literal verbal incantation, i always found it interesting to consider what it is that actually causes the magic shit to happen. avatar characters can execute bending forms without needing to actually manipulate things everytime, so what kind of ‘switch’ do they need to flip? the idea of there being some muscle-flex or mentality that allows one to opt in and out of this more freely manipulating state was always funny to ponder.

anyways, my actual time was about 5 minutes longer than my estimate at the start. i would chalk it up to less-than-optimal hydration the 24 hours prior, but in the moment with the stress ball in hand, i really believed that if i found the perfect rhythm of squeezing or breath depth and interval, that it could slice the time into nothing. some of the timing was the machine of course, presumably determined to not take my own life, but the timing Disparity is enough for me to believe that some onus was on me. reaching for straws that slipped through my fingers.

5. that said, i think the attending staff were sure to let me know that i was “almost there.” 10 minutes out, 25 minutes out, a full hour out, just under half of the way. it was this really strange thing, and i imagine medical professionals have to negotiate something a lot with how they provide comfort. since the machine would not deprive me of life after the fact, and presumably low chances of complications (the only qualifier being a minimum blood iron content, weight, and pulse), the choice to offer reassurances is not loaded with many ethical considerations.

it would have been my preference though to just have been left alone, savoring my music over the long course like i preferred - but of course, they upheld a standard of decency and care to check on me. how dare they ask if i wanted a blanket? how insulting, to make sure i was really okay without Netflix for the time! must i not have even a moment to savor any sense of discomfort?

6. because i probably would have been more comfortable if i did have a blanket covering my short sleeved self, the subtle a/c and grey skies outside enough to have a chill walk, but not run, down my spine. i didn’t feel strongly cold, but enough to notice that the blood seemed absent.

unburdened by the bounds of the vein, my self had expanded to share rent with a machine (and my platelets later, i certainly expect, well beyond the confines of the room). seldom do i get to try density like that, and indeed, one feels just a bit closer to being as light as air. it takes a second to get to that subtle high, and with the sensation grounded by the truth of cold and stillness, one recognizes the elation as something realer than a dream.

it made the music that much better. a playlist of old favorites and nothing else to do let the reflection and the feelings and memories from those days come rolling right back.

7. the little sense of pain, then, to know those days as things to remember, and not to be.

8. and roku city scrolling by right through it all. a placeholder, not made to be known or noticed for more than a few moments, known upside down and backwards, all its film references decoded before even halfway.

9. and after it’s done, and the utility of arms, motion, autonomy return, the body maintain a stony sense of numbness. and the little packet of cheez its are never quite as salty, savory as the first time.

10. oh well. the promise of a free t-shirt ft. Joe Cool seems to mean something.

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smackemback · 2 years

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Internet Down !

Ok here's a little problem That fills everyone with dread A little message just popped up And this is what it said

No internet connection No access to the net Please try restart your router Turn it off and press reset

That didn't seem to do the trick That didn't work at all Now where's that bloody number I'll give the tech support a call

I'll call in couple of minutes Yes, that is what I'll do It's not that I am desperate But they'll know what to do

I quickly dial the number And now I'm in the que The message says politely " You're number 92 "

This really is annoying And must be against my rights I hope it doesn't get too dark Cos I've only got smart lights

I've been waiting 40 minutes In this bloody telephone que The message tells me once again " Now you're number 72 "

This will take forever And that will never do I hang up the phone to watch TV " Shit, Netflix is down too !"

Smackemback - 05/09/22

#Wifi #Poem

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zhouprodigy · 30 days

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Back when I was younger, when we didn't have wide-spread access to the Internet (when making a phone can killed the Internet connection), I used to love reading. Reading was my first love, for real. I remember I used to read this children's bible my parents had, pictures and stories. I was so obsessed, I used to read everything. Game manuals, the decorations on cereal boxes, the ingredients list when I got bored. We didn't have many books that weren't Bibles in the house. And then I found out about libraries.

I don't know if that's a thing anymore, the absolute JOY of a reader finding out about libraries, but let me tell you, it was like a movie buff finding out about Netflix. Or a foodie learning about buffets.

But I remember going by here ALL the time at school. Staying up late reading one, so I could turn it back in the next day and pick out another. My family just looking at me all types of way, because apparently reading was an acquired taste, even then, and I guess someone who took naturally to it was... Rare? Idk. I didn't care. I just wanted books.

And I think that's really how I ended up going from writing poetry to wanting to be an author. I sucked at poetry. A lot of what I wrote was forced, at Best, mostly lies of feelings I've never known, but only imagined how they would feel.

And it hit me one day... Making up shit. Isn't that just... being an author? Maybe I was better suited to that.

#personal #writblr #me #reading

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cluster-bi · 2 months

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I'm so sick of my piece of shit smart TV it can barely hook up to youtube from my phone and it can't connect to Netflix or casts from the internet at all. Fucking piece of shit "smart" my whole ass.

#rambling #i wanna scream

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ntriani · 3 months

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WHO KNOWS WHERE THE TIME GOES? Fast Forward/Rewind As the decade draws to a close, many are trying to fathom what just happened over the last ten years. Be it cultural, political or the climate catastrophe that most conscientious types realise they find themselves in, the past decade might be remembered as an introduction to what may be our most challenging times here on earth. In layman’s terms – we are in the midst of a climate emergency. As The Clash once warned – the ice caps are melting at an alarming rate, the planet’s heating up – and we’re not doing enough to stop it.

The diagnosis is critical, yet most of western privileged society just shrugs with an uninterested uneasiness born out of a selfless need for non-reflection, a simmering vacuousness of staring into the void and merely asking “isn’t there anything good on Netflix I could watch so I don’t have to face this reality?” The need for escape is exemplified by our own immersion into the internet and the virtual pleasure or pain that belongs to someone else.

My main take-away from the last decade could be about screen addiction, at least in the sense of what I can see from my own environment. This particularly relates to me being a culture junkie and most of the culture I obsess over has moved online. Over the last ten years I simply haven’t been able to get enough of that light, those words, that browse, the fear of missing out on the latest tweet, FB update, email, news headlines and of course, the biggest attraction: my own virtual social engagement. So many of us have become the arbitrators not only of our own cultural worlds, but political opinion combined with a great capacity for trolling and nastiness. The internet is an outlaw land and creates its own web (ouch!) of intrigue, opinion, controversy or simply bat-shit craziness. It’s this wild cacophony of noise that keeps us hooked, a place where YOU can have a voice (even if no one is really listening). Yes, I’m hooked (though increasingly growing weary.)

Boomtime is over As the decade ends social media as a time consuming phenomenon wanes for me, while at the same time I am aware that the internet has become a routine part of nearly every aspect of my life. I have a peace of mind now that I don’t stress if I haven’t posted anything on one of my many social media platforms. Social media’s decade-long sprint to offer a consumerist paradise has merely hastened my move for the shutdown button. I prefer to live in the moment now rather than documenting that moment. Ironically, the fast sprint of social connectivity has made me more remote and less willing to share and connect.

Of course, as I get older and the looks fade and certainly as regards a platform such as Instagram, I have become less comfortable in my own skin, a development I don’t really feel like sharing with the world. Did anyone ever mention the visual vanities of older lives? They should, it’s a heartbreaker. More vivid pursuits inform me nowadays. Time spent with my family have become the best of times, though my family will probably attest to me being still addicted to screens. I have no particular vice or drug habit, I eat healthily and don’t really drink, I’m proud of my clear-headed sobriety. I merely spend time with the things that interest me most. This is the privileged life of a white-passing +50 male. I have become extremely selfish with my time.

Calling it out A new development has seen a general consensus driven by public opinion becoming our barometer of what classifies as the word of the day. For me the past decade has seen standards become lowered to a simple classification of; “if enough people like something, then it must be good” (the reverse of this premise also applies). Mixing commercial revenues with quality of endeavour is something that has become heightened, at least in most MSM. It’s more escapism with an extra dose of dumbing down. Yes, an elitist view perhaps, but I won’t apologise for calling out something that is truly dreadful or politically odious, especially if that something’s only merit is being popular. We have accepted capitalism as high art or as our only aspiration. Popular opinions define critical consensus, yet if we lose the ability to take on or offer criticism, worryingly we lose our capacity to discuss or communicate. Despite our supposed hi-speed connectivity, I have finally come to the pessimistic conclusion that this past decade has been one long communication breakdown.

This sporting life As a fan of nearly 50 years, I can revel in Tottenham Hotspur’s general improvement as a football team; it’s been a highlight of my decade – Spurs’ competitiveness. Football has become all-enveloping for me. I ignore the obvious, devious and evil commercial aspects of the beautiful game and give into my innate state of tribalism (I really never knew I had it in me.) Come match-day (which is ever frequent) my passion knows no bounds and I am lost in the increasingly intense revelry of the sport. Yes, football has become more intense, the pressure often unbearable; the increased speed of each game, the superstars, the global reach all entwine in my mind to create the perfect 90 minute exaltation of personal release. So two of my highlights of this decade have been Mauricico Pochettino and Harry Kane. Football as full throttle escape has been essential to me, an escape as much from the daily grind but also an escape from the intensity of my partner’s chronic illness.

It’s all about numbers Music has intensified as the main line that runs through my veins both professionally and as cultural recreation. The way we consume music and interact with music has been as much a talking point this past decade as the music itself (which is a bit sad), but as a music consumer I feel it’s never been so good. A purist music culture still thrives even though an over-reliance on numbers and stats to justify success often overshadows any perceived artistic accomplishments.

For all the knowingness of pop music in 2019, music culture has mourned the passing of Prince, David Bowie, Aretha Franklin, Scott Walkerand others because they dared to dream; artistic choices were simply de rigueur and not based on any commercial aspirations. Rare exceptions such as Beyoncé’s Lemonade and Kanye West’s My Dark Twisted Fantasyalbums cut across cultural lines to become something more meaningful, helping pop-music reclaim the critical consensus and capture the spirit of the times.

Still, for me popular music has become a slightly duller place over the last decade, with risk aversion and social media compliance an essential part of making it. In simple terms I started listening to a lot of old music and relishing the freedom of jazz as a form of expression. If anything dates me, it’s this. Sic Alps final album tapped into my own inner sadness and seemed to reflect feelings that were closer to home. An increasingly important record for me personally and one that captures a world-weary mood music of the 2010s – Sic Alps surmises my musical direction and word-view these past ten years. I regress to my inner child Reading books has become a chore for me. Fiction has fallen by the wayside, but this has been increased by my becoming a near full-on digital reader. The literal printed page has virtually disappeared from my grasp. Most of my physical book reading has been in the service of my child. Harry Potterand Lord of The Rings have taken the limelight, but my still alive inner child has secretly thrilled at these works. Graphic novels have been a regular staple: too many to mention but Pat Mills’ Charley’s War reigns above most. To emphasise my move to the virtual, The Guardian online has been a constant companion. It’s my first port of call everyday and of course more than anything fuels my screen time. As an outlet for free online journalism with balanced reporting and great writing, it remains peerless.

But a certain sorrow and even guilt accompanies my abandonment of physical books (the digitisation process has impacted most cultures important to me.) Technical progress feels more impersonal and this decade’s rush to digitise has increased the sense of commercial possibilities in exploiting hi-art. My old punk heart is weary as much as wary, scrolling on my phone has replaced reading a well thumbed paperback novel on any journey I take nowadays. The passing of the silver screen In 2010 I was still spending as much as I could afford on DVDs and along with my Sight and Sound subscription; cinema, film history and the writings of David Thomson and others fuelled a passion for film. Hell, me and my partner even went a little crazy and started a very active movie-blog, which let’s be honest, probably helped give us an idea for you know what.

The home movie streaming revolution, pioneered by Netflix, again gives us pause for thought for the issue of more screen time. As life becomes increasingly busy and tiring, Netflix has offered even more simple escapism that has impacted further on our own social behaviour. TV streaming handily also supplied a his and hers menu which rarely crosses over into mutual gender lines and impacted negatively onto shared time with my partner. We still watch things together, but we have so much more to consider nowadays, tailored to our own individual wishes and desires. The dividing lines on streaming culture has developed a new phenomenon for couples addicted to binge watching (and no doubt more scrutiny on fragile relationships).

But Netflix and HBO (and increasing others) have also managed to deliver some genuinely startling art beamed straight into our living rooms. Twin Peaks: The Return bettered most cinema and TV over 18 slow episodes of small screen nirvana. Cut from similar cloth but equally mind-blowing was Damon Lindelof’s The Leftovers, a three season series that deals with loss and stays with you and never quite leaves.

But the biggest cinematic achievement of the decade away from the small screen has been the relevance of the franchise (a TV serial for the big screen if you like) and especially the all-conquering power of the superhero movie, from Marvel’s slick, witty Avengers universe to the polarising populism of this year’s Joker. Martin Scorsese, not sounding like one of his onscreen streetwise characters, rounded off the decade by decrying the success of Superhero films and describing them as anti-cinema. The authority of Scorsese’s quotes mixed with the fawning love for his new, overrated film also displayed the privilege a director like Scorsese is afforded due to his reputation. It’s our own perceptions of quality and nostalgia for Scorsese’s CV that gives his words such authority, even if I think some of the films he’s criticised have far exceeded the quality of his own work.

I make the connection with reputation and white male privilege because cinema suffered its greatest fall this decade, with the emergence of the #metoo movement and a greater call for equality between men and women in general. #metoo chimed with an awareness for feminism in the 2010s, a development that has jump started the process of change towards women receiving overdue equal billing not only in the workplace, but at home.

The universal lurch to the right What has defined this decade for me has been the increased and unopposed shift to a right-wing ideology throughout many nations of the world. Conservatism with a small c has given way to an array of populist theories that often result in racism with a capital R. An increase in the harbouring of natural resources often against the needs of the planet and the greater good. Keeping the establishment and their capitalist values in place, the rightwing thinking lobby have exerted greater control, often using the seemingly liberal tag of ‘freedom of expression’ to legitimise overt criticism of being racist or just talking shit about minorities or even attacking an overtly critical media. Under such guises and hammering home a continued, legitimised worldview against ‘the other’ in our societies has now become the norm rather than something that should be a source for feeling deep shame. The rhetoric of this decade has made many of our communities divided – and destroyed that essence of community itself. Trust in leadership has become an issue like never before. From the populism of Trump to the logical conclusion of the Nigel Farage/ Boris Johnson axis, which fuels division and hatred, extreme views and opinions nowadays reflect our society and sense of humanity. Erdoğan, Orbán, Bolsonaro, Italy’s Salvini and Finland’s Finns Party; the trend in right wingers gaining political power seems irreversible. How did we get here? Does anyone really know? A heightened awareness of my own Brexit fuelled vulnerability have made these the most uncertain of times. I’ve noticed a subtle shift with a more normalised racist expression toward me and my family during this period. In Finland I feel alone in having to try and combat these situations, even amongst my most liberal associations. As Jeremy Corbyn is crushed by electoral defeat in the UK, recriminations and humiliation end the decade with me feeling we’re in an unsafe place. As political tribalism sinks the centre ground we all search for our own visions of extremism that we can place our own ideological hat on. Compassion and solutions have to be our way forward, yet we’re still arguing with big business and corporations about being fair and creating safe climate environments for future generations. Self-interest has won the day.

Movements such as Extinction Rebellion, Momentum, Occupy Wall Street, #metoo, Black Lives Matter, Wiki-Leaks and Anonymoushave offered us some hope and often questioned this era defining status quo. This last decade represents a new era of protest, a new voice, a reactivated youth movement that expresses shared values and the concerns of all ages. A new level of responsibility, a real taking back control. We need more Greta Thunberg and less Rudy Giuliani in all our lives. An uncertainty at home to add to the feeling of international insecurity has permeated much of this most immediate passing decade. My dearest and nearest have been the barometer by which I have to measure our progress. With a chronic illness in the close family not only defining our day to day routines, my partner’s illness has come to define how I am viewed by others. Increased public recognition of my partner’s condition has cemented a new public picture of who I am. That’s often hard to take, but I am now regarded by many as the partner of a cancer patient. Sympathy for my own new condition is widespread. My own ageing and the toll it’s taken, both physical and mental, has only contributed to a personal feeling of lack of relevance whilst bringing more awareness of my own sense of mortality. My only response to this decade of freewheeling doubt and extreme movements is to keep the ones I love near me and never let go. 2020 finally sounds like The Future. Let’s hope a new positive dialogue, face to face, can develop amongst all the other ideas.

#OQM #2010s #essay #trump #politics #tv #culture #music

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