bao: (amused)
You know, I'm thinking that "wank" is just one of those evolving words, like "soulbond", that totally didn't mean three years ago what it means now. Once upon a time, post comment threads could consist of something other than vague target-bashing that's supposed to be witty but mistakes wit for acid. Not that it has to be positive, but seriously? There are more amusing ways to make fun of something or somebody than to go "ZOMG STUPID BINT SHOULD DIE NOW LOL DEAD FROM COKE IZ PASTEDE ON YEY".

So, "wank" once meant masturbation, then humorous self-importance, and now has devolved to mean anything set up for mass mockery that fails to be humorous AT ALL 99.999999% of the time, because no one's really putting any effort, thought, or consideration into it. Sarcasm isn't always funny. Heck, judging from most examples of Impromptu Snark Humor, most of it isn't. (I wonder if this is why oldtimers were always complaining about newbies.)

I did get some good advice that time around in [livejournal.com profile] poetryslamming, if you exclude the useless one-word potshots. And heck, after a while of bashing heads in [livejournal.com profile] religiousdebate, those one-word potshots are downright cuddly. So I might take another try sometime with this journal. That is, if the mod doesn't still think I'm [livejournal.com profile] naienko or that she was a sockpuppet of mine. You'd think that her replies all being quotes from Pope and mine being actual direct replies to the comments with good criticism would tip people off, but. Then again, we'd both have been technically "trolling", right? (There's a question. If take it seriously and aren't being an ass to anyone, are you a troll? Or a disgrace to wankers everywhere?)

Maybe sarcastic humor has passed its prime. I wonder what would happen if everyone let it rest and tried, say, Dada for while, or least tried to say something funny WITHOUT using "stupid", a synonym of "stupid", statement of innate unchangeable inferiority, or statement that someone should "get off the planet" (or internet, or what). Remember "the wank is coming from inside the house"? Well. Have fun with the endless unexplained injokes, at least.
bao: (Default)
I am... three, maybe four degrees of separation from [livejournal.com profile] saunteringdown, artist of Friendly Hostility, which apparently started off as a story about the Maharassa family (...a webcomic with a well-written primarily nonwhite cast? IS THIS LEGAL AND CAN I MARRY IT?), and then got sucked into the usual Huge Lovecraftian Demons of Doom Arc thing that lots of webcomics get into (see Sluggy Freelance, and to some extent, Megatokyo), incorporating characters from the old Boy Meets Boy comic (maybe it was the previous project?), and eventually featuring Nyarlathotep in the comic on a semi-regular basis and in the default icon of [livejournal.com profile] saunteringdown. The hypnotizing one that I'm staring at and makes Mack make cracks about Sadu-Hem.

Unfortunately, the degrees of separation are like this:

Me -> Darling Crow Girl -> Metaphorical Phoenix Girl -> Late Stranger -> [livejournal.com profile] saunteringdown.

So.

There is also the fact that Late Stranger seems to have been a fascinating person, the kind I would have liked to have gotten to know, or at least, read every now and then.

I've also been digging through old email, as far back as June of 2000, and... um. Wow, [livejournal.com profile] ippeas. Some of this is disgusting. And you say the chats were worse?
bao: (upset)
So now, after a year of staying away from a particular journal because I didn't want to feed the worries of a certain bird, I gave in and checked up on what's been happening after all.

A couple of weeks after we dropped contact, one of her friends died. We weren't there to lend support. Especially her, as for the rest of us the connection is more by association and hearsay than by heartstrings. So her worries are more than overfed, and the best I can do is provide a shoulder to cry on and arms to be held in.

But no words of wisdom. Words have to come from thoughts, and all the thoughts I have right now are just confused and guilty.

This person's friendship with all of us ended because [livejournal.com profile] thebkcam went overboard in a stupid, stupid, stupid argument. One that would have boiled over if she hadn't taken the horrid advice of a girl that didn't really give a whit about what was best or right, advice that was the exact opposite of what it turned out was her actual belief about us. How you do fix that? How do you explain that someone else was being a stupid idiot and that you yourself didn't agree or approve without, yet again, getting branded with the label of "dodging responsibility"? "Oh, it wasn't me, it was someone else"? Isn't that exactly what causes people to believe this is fake? Everyone has to take the consequences that come from someone else's foolish act. To do otherwise is immature and unrealistic.

Yet it means either a certain homogenity in our friendships, as happens with carefully choosing people who can tolerate all of us and be tolerated by everyone in return, or else a lonely separateness, of having to compartmentalize friends into groups of "this person's friends", "that person's friends", and then never interacting within another's token group. There's no middle ground. There's no room for a few being friends with someone that one other person pointedly can't get along with... or even a person whom everyone got along with and only ended up having major fights with one particular person.

Either way, overworshipping "collective responsibility" was the wrong thing to do. I don't care if anything else had gone the same way, I don't care if we probably would have been in a hospital at the time, I would rather go back and apologize for it the very day after, lose several notches of respect in the short term, than not be around when a friend needs real support. And I know she is the same way, as she very nearly did.

Responsibilility can't really be forced through protocol. As it is, I don't feel responsible for the fallout, but for the months of isolation afterwords that did not need to and should not have happened. The end.
bao: (Default)
There used to be a time, not so long ago, that I was a widely respected and powerful man. Not here, obviously. Not Thái Nguyên, either. In TN, I was always up to no good, even if I didn't know it, because what else would you expect from the son of Liên Tuyết? "Thắng lưu manh đang lá con đĩ." And here, I'm either flattered half to death for being so very "wise" and always knowing what's best, cursed for being horrible personified evil with large serrated death, or teased for being a silly pervert.

If it sounds like I'm standing on a soapbox and about to bitch at the world with a megaphone, I'm sorry, but I'm not really up to that right now, or possibly ever. I'm just thinking about pigeonholes of all kinds, whether they be the reputations you can't live up to or the reputations you can't live down. There are only two people in this world that I'm absolutely certain know what I'm like at both my best times and worst times, and can still accept both and everything in between.

There is a particular person whom I'd like to be more frank and serious with. But that, right there, is the wrong way to phrase it-- there's already been some confusion about how I feel about her, or her about me, and I want to be serious in a non-romantic non-sexual direction. I want to actually talk about my life, my fears, what's going on, in a serious fashion without having to feint one way or the other to avoid the topic. I don't care if it's face-to-face or if she prefers to keep it in email so that it doesn't mess up the fun of hanging out... heck, I've known for years that even the most open-minded folks have an easier time dealing with me if they're talking to an icon rather than this face.

It's not just for me that I want to talk seriously for once. It's that I've got this hunch, this gut feeling, that she's dealing with a lot of the same fears and issues that have been plaguing me for years. That mode of thinking that you slip into after years of living here under a constant barrage that claims to be a reality check, to "save" you from daring to think that God doesn't make mistakes, that what you think you have to hide shouldn't have to be hidden, that you don't have to force yourself to pretend that what everyone tells you about yourself is the way you must be.

I knew what I was getting into when I retreated from respect and power to become a nobody that few even believe exists. I did it to save a soul. I've taken the best this world can toss at me, the most viciousness that the population has had to offer, and it's ripped away little parts of me over time, such as that I don't know if I could ever return to my old way of life. But I accomplished what I set out to do in the first place, so I have few regrets. She smiles, she laughs, she makes little crow noises at dogs. There is life in her eyes again, and that's worth more than any respect or power you could summon to bribe me with.

At the same time, do I stop there? Save one bird and ignore the rest?

I want to at least tell her that it's okay, and that I'll always be there for her if she needs someone to talk to.

And then immediately fix "In an obnoxious protective older brother sort of way," onto the end. Because everyone thinks I'm trying to woo them all the time. Lucky me.
bao: (amused)
I kid you not, snugglywuzzums has been gliding around all day, singing this song to the tune of "Silver Bells":

鶏、鶏が好きですよね
あなたを話してかな
岩神、岩神が嫌いですよね
分ないってマイハニーように

This translates roughly to

Chicken, you know I like the chicken
I wonder if you are spoken to
Rock god, you know I hate the rock god
As my honey says "I don't get it"


In other words, it's a nonsense song that's also one big joke on me. So, I get my revenge by calling her snugglywuzzums and moochiepoo online to potential millions of strangers! HAHAHA!

Yes, I am lame. But I control the Lame! The Lame does not control me!

EDIBONG: And my grammar was off in a few places. Ar, Japanese. Sometimes I swear they made this language up just to laugh at people who get it wrong.
bao: (disappointed)
Hopefully, if there's one claim I'll never make, it's that my life is boring. Me, maybe. But not my life itself. And if I have made any complaints along those lines, feel free to smack me down to reality.

On the other hand, I'd request a smack down on anyone who claims I don't have a modicrum of self-restraint, too. For good measure.

And I, I took the road less likely to involve me bedding a horny single mother. )

To be honest, I don't mind having an "interesting" life. I just worry that actually recounting it makes me sound like either a madman or a pathological liar.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bottle of Sprite I need to finish off.

...not like that.

...dammit.
bao: (amused)
Those of you who had business in the city of Saratoga this afternoon may have noticed a guy walking around with a noticeable limp and a giant stupid grin on his face. That would have been me. Which is to say, I sprained a muscle in the most pleasant way possible. I would offer to let you guess how, or even where the sprain is, but most of you are probably thinking "Ohhhh, he did THAT again," anyway.

What can I say? I live dangerously.

On losers and fending off ultra-Christian admirers )

I wish that pizzeria around the corner actually delivered. It'd make life a lot easier.
bao: (amused)
Well, since [livejournal.com profile] qilora, [livejournal.com profile] sethrenn, and [livejournal.com profile] thebkcam have done it, I might as well. I am so very pansexual for no reason at all. I am currently in a long term open relationship with [livejournal.com profile] karinofujo (big surprise there). Occasionally this branches out into a on-and-off polyamorous triangle of sorts whenever a particular other person who shall remain nameless decides to stop hiding from the world. Usually some catastrophe sends this person back into their hole, though, which is the only reason it's on-and-off. It's a cosmic game of whack-a-mole.

I also have the weirdest religious beliefs of any non-schizophrenic person alive. Well, save possibly New Age fluffies who sniff at the ignorance of "neurotypicals". They're a bit touched.
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