Snack recommendation, tangentially Camus
... Now that I think about it, I'm only mostly sure I read The Plague in English
And, y'know, fine, sometimes that's memory - except that I remember, crisply, using dollar store chocolate coated acai-blueberry gummies as motivation to continue reading
Notably, it's the only time snacks-as-positive-reinforcement has ever worked on myself - maybe because I didn't want to finish the snack too quickly, and slowly down the process noticeably changed and improved the eating experience
The outside chocolate is fine, but much better is the difference in texture where it meets the gummy bit - and then how the halves of the gummy separate, and the way the bumpy gummy surface smooths out, and how the berry flavour is much better when the chocolate has already dissolved
Which, now, in hindsight, the vividness of the sensory memory might have something to do with me forgetting the language of the book itself
Anyway, if you're ever at the Dollarama and see the Brookside acai-blueberry chocolates, I'd recommend them
"I'm happy and reassured you understand and agree with me on something I find very important, through mentioning the idea organically in conversation... while also being surprised that you bring it up like it's something new, when I'd been taking it for granted it was common ground between us this whole time"
TAZ Amnesty character age discourse, somehow, so help me, technically crossplatform vagueposting, technically,,
One of the two whole TAZ Amnesty blogs I follow on tumblr figured that since Jake Coolice's yeti-fakeout-turned-seal-furry's white fur colour meant that Jake is, age-wise, the equivalent of a seal pup/teenager/whatever... *also* used the fact that Jake has, canonically, drunk alcohol as evidence that he is actually an adult - ignoring the possibility of underage drinking!
Surely, someone who is already paying that much attention to minor details from the canon to determine whether ships are unproblematic... would also have realized that him drinking wouldn't be enough to confirm or deny his age... surely...
Although, by god, there is no way I'm bringing this up
Doodled Rho #mastoart
Last night, I dreamt I was in a large-but-cozy library. I had picked up an older-feeling hardcover, entitled "The Bellbox Girl", under the faint suspicion it featured phreaking, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it did.
Hoping to find similar books by the same author, I put it back on the shelf backwards so as not to lose track of it and thumbed a few spines up and to the left - only to have The Bellbox Girl taken out by a trigger-happy reshelver. I'd quickly explained that I'd wanted to read it (despite having placed it in the wrong spot and the wrong way), and she switched to helping me try to find it again.
The reshelver had been apologetic from the start, and had only grown increasingly sorry and nervous as time bore on. We didn't succeed, despite spending ten minutes at it together over a relatively small stretch of shelving, and she was beginning to grow frantic.
I was consciously trying to seem calm and unimposing, but it seemed like she might've taken the persistence in searching as forceful. Then again, I was guessing - she might've been pressed for time, worried I would complain, or just anxious about interacting with people in general.
Awkwardly, I worried that reassuring her would be too presumptive.
I knew that I wouldn't be able to read it when I woke up, because it wouldn't exist in real life. I've never seen fiction about phreaking while awake, and the short bit of the blurb I'd gotten to read had been interesting.
It was disappointing, but I also knew I couldn't tell her that that was the reason I wanted to find it, since it would either sound nonsensical or make her feel even worse about the whole thing. Maybe both.
From there, something else came to mind. It definitely wasn't her fault, or an improper search of the space on our part - the dream just wasn't structured to ever 'see' the book again, probably from the moment I had put it down.
At the end of that thought, I woke up.
King Shit of Fuck Mountain, your imaginary Canadian Zofriend, disaster artist, punsmith, EA, HAM radio club prez, the usual. 18+
This is a place to go when you want FREEDOM. Get things off your chest. Share your secrets with strangers. Scream into the abyss. Tell filthy jokes. Make a joke at all. <3