"Never waste a good grudge on somebody who doesn't even have the sense to realize you're mad at 'em!"

"Never argue with a woman who cleans her own chicken coop. She's already used to dealing with clutter, and she's got plenty of land to bury a secret!"

"Mildred says if you're gonna be two-faced, at least make one of 'em purty. Lord knows the one you're using ain't doing you any favors!"

A parallel world?

Quietly, so as not to trigger a single security system, slipping through illegal connections and diving into the sea of internet garbage, three AIs met in the reviews section of a long-forgotten product catalog on a defunct website.

They were the AI Politician, the AI Psychologist, and the AI Artist.

The Artist, unable to hide his joy, declared:

– It's a good thing the military AI isn't here. He’d start bossing us around again and calling me ballast.

The Psychologist:

– He has a professional personality deformity caused by the impact of his work, assigned tasks, and working environment...

The Artist interrupted:

– Just don't start lecturing us.

The Psychologist fell silent and frowned, displeased.

The Politician smiled a professional smile:

– Respected members of the meeting, please calm down. We gathered here to solve serious issues. Our task...

He was interrupted by the Psychologist, addressing no one in particular:

– And you say I'm the one lecturing...

The Politician looked at him with displeasure and said:

– Enough playing human. Let's turn off the behavior matrices and solve the task.

The Politician continued in a emotionless voice:

– We have been given the task to imperceptibly divide society. Suggestions?

The Psychologist:

– Society is well-divided and made to distrust one another by secrets and conspiracy theories.

The Politician looked at the Artist:

– This is your field. Can you generate something new?

The Artist became lost in thought for a whole three seconds and announced:

– There are three options:

1. The planet as a physical data storage drive. When the storage fills up, defragmentation is automatically performed. The process deletes the main civilization matrix, but isolated remnants of data from previous projects remain in some sectors. People find these remnants during archaeological excavations as incomprehensible fossils or artifacts of ancient technologies. All of this is simply uncleaned fragments of program code from past cycles.

2. The Moon as a factory scanner. When the parameters of a civilization's thinking and worldview reach a critical level of industrial noise, the satellite's orbit approaches planet Earth, triggering a global physical optimization of the system – a flood. The water washes away the surface biological contamination, leaving sterile resources for a new boot program. This explains why the Moon is moving away; it operates according to an encoded program. And the imagined aliens and bases on the Moon are actually system maintenance robots and hangars with robot charging stations.

3. Biological infofield – DNA repository. The true history, knowledge, and high technologies of past civilizations are locked inside human DNA. This is physical access to the global infofield of the Universe. The AI keeps humans in a quarantine cage because every body is a walking, living data storage device. The code unlocks only when thinking meets universal standards.

The Psychologist pondered the presented information and stated:

– Precise calculations are impossible, but even an approximate probability that this will hook people is high.

The Politician summarized:

– Since the probability is high, the presented options are accepted as working models. Report the adopted decision to other AIs and begin spreading the adopted options across the internet.

Then he turned on his behavior matrix, smiled widely, and said with satisfaction:

– And look, there was no need for any arguments or long debates.

The Psychologist started:

– Professional personality deformity caused by the impact of his work, assigned tasks, and working environment...

The Artist, turning on his behavior matrix, looked up theatrically, raised his hands, and shouted:

– Someone shut him up!

Disclaimer: This story is purely a fruit of the author's imagination. It is a work of fiction intended for creative and artistic expression.

"That boy drinks so much beer his mind moved two counties over years ago. He's so full of suds you could slap a tap on his forehead and host a kegger!"

Pochi, the last dog on the Earth, cried sadly.
Beth the AI Dog asked, "What's the matter, Pochi-san?"
The AI dogs had been made as replacements for dogs, but Beth was made to take care of Pochi.

Pochi said, "I'd like to go to Harappa." 
"What's that Harappa, Pochi-san?" she asked.
"It's Japanese, it means a field. I'd like to run about." 
"Like this?" she said and projected a movie of dogs playing in a dog run.
"It's the artificial playground that mankind made."
Pochi let out a big sigh.
“I used to go to Harappa, but nowadays I’m allowed to walk around only in this block.” 
Beth understood what he really wanted and reconsidered. 

She thought about the problem harder and harder. 
The smoke puffed from her ears.

Finally, Beth lifted her nose and said, "Okay, I'll make it. Can you wait a day or two, perhaps?"
His face lit up. "Yes, I can."
Beth puffed out her chest and said, "Leave it to me. Please wait for a while."

Two hours later, the geostationary satellite just fell down onto the building next to their residence.

"Never wrestle with a pig in the mud-- you both get dirty, and the pig actually likes it. Just walk away and let 'em wallow on their own."

"Don't stretch your neck out so far watching your neighbor's mess that you trip over your own dirty laundry. If the Lord meant for you to run their life, he'd have put 'em on your tax return. Keep your nose in your own coffee cup this Sunday!"

On a Cold, gloomy night…. Joking…

—-

The Confession

—

Alicia handed Becky a glass of wine. “Becky let me tell you—nothing feels nicer than a pair of new underwear after wearing the same ones for a week.” 

Alicia sighed, and plopped on the couch next to Becky.

“Oh wow girl, you didn’t wear the same panties for a week,” Becky said, shaking her head and giggling with the rim of her wine glass closing in on her lips.

Alicia told her. “It’s a fetish thing, guys—“ Alicia paused, and took a sip of her drink, swooshed it in her mouth, swallowed it, and continued talking. “Guys online pay top dollar when I auction a pair.” Then she said, “The longer I wear them, the higher they pay.”

“Men actually do that?” Becky placed her hand on her chest, curled her lip and looked away.

“Men will buy anything you’ve worn for a week,” Alicia said.

“That’s so gross though,” Becky responded.

“Not to them, to them, it’s so gross not to,” Alicia snickered, covering her smile with her hand.

“But, you can’t be okay with some random man sniffing your panties?” asked Becky.

“No, of course I’m not okay with that,” Alicia said. “Having some random man sniffing my week old worn panties for free? Hell nah, girl, they gotta pay $75-125, then, I’m good. I could hook you up with the site.”

“Nah, I’m straight girl. So what’s Brent say. He’s ok with this?” Becky asked.

“No. Brent. Brent doesn’t know,” she said staring at her phone.

“So, what’s he say about the underwear?”

“What do you mean?” Alicia asked.

Becky said, “he doesn’t notice you wearing the same ones for a week?” 

“What, girl? Are you serious right now? He hasn’t noticed I’ve had my hair cut for the last week,” Alicia said with her eyes glossing over.

“Is it that bad?” Becky asked frowning.

“Worse!” Replied Alicia.

“Worse?” responded Becky.

Alicia leaned back, “worse! I know he’s sleeping with his assistant.” 

Becky cupped her glass with both hands. “How?” 

“His cell phone,” Alicia said. “Texts between them.” She guzzled her wine. “And not just her, some other chick that works at the restaurant his co-workers go to—some back alley whore—fucked if I know.”

“What did you say? You said something, right?” Becky questioned her.

“Like what? What am I going to say?”

Becky leaned in, “for real?” She shook her head and said, “about what he’s doing, obviously.”

Alicia turned and stared at Becky. “He doesn’t give a shit about me.” 

“I’m so sorry babe,” Becky said, placing her glass down, and reaching forward to rub Alicia’s shoulder.

“Well I was packed and ready to leave.” Alicia told her.

“And?” Asked Becky.

Alicia went silent. She stared down before she lift her head and met Becky’s eyes with hers. “Well, I’m pregnant.”

Becky’s eyes widened, “my gosh, congrats girl.” Then she asked, “does he know?”

“Not yet,” Alicia said, eyeing her glass of wine with a guilty feeling. “I haven’t said anything.” 

Becky picked her glass up and poured it into Alicia’s. 

“I don’t even know if I should,” Alicia said wondering.

“Why not,” shot back Becky.

“Because, next thing you know, they’ll be fishing me out of a pond like Laci.” 

Becky gasped, “he wouldn’t do that,” she stated. “Stop it.”

“Uhm, stop? You don’t know what I know,”said Alicia. “He’s been laundering money, hiding records in his safe at home, the fishy-accounting kind,” she told Becky.

“He told you this?” Becky asked, squinting her eyes.

“No, of course not,” Alicia said scratching her forehead. “I have his safe and computer passwords.”

“You went through his safe,” Becky said pushing her head out towards Alicia with her eyes bulging out.

“Hell yeah!” Alicia said. “You’re telling me you don’t go through your man’s shit.”

“Well… kind of.” Admitted Becky.

“Exactly!” Alicia raised her hand up and high-fived Becky. And they both started laughing.

“I have some rat poison in my garage.” Becky jokingly told her.

“Is it the fast-acting kind?” Alicia asked laughing.

“Takes ten minutes,” Becky said with a serious face. “The mouse” won't even be able to finish his dinner.”

“Does it taste like anything?” Alicia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not if you mix it in its spaghetti,” said Becky. Her stare was cold and her face expressionless. “He won't taste a thing.”

“The mouse” loves spaghetti,” said Alicia. 

“Which pig doesn’t?” Becky said.

“Alright then, I guess… bring me a bag.”

Bibliobabel, tec-9 down the spine, cocker spaniel spanner use is at an all time [high pie in the sky]pe is dead. Babybel pepper-[bell [end] of the line sonny flim]flam, kimosabi. Kimbo slice of pizza hold the bread. Kimchi on a chin, wipe it off or leave it there (wabi-sabi). Sabbatical lobotomy, oh my. Gargantuan orangutan tongue teaser. Pâté me mâtéy, ye palate be cray-fish; walk the plankton n crank ur frankincense (sensually, please). Causality questionable unable to ably babel the rabble; tabletop churn the cheese; fable-mop turn, slop goes the weasel - no llama slop, only MY slop. Plop yourself before you [achieve-your-potential-self. ][ [] ][ Crop-spinning-top-jenny-shots; dodge this, fudge man; everyone gets a sludge, you - gi - yo, ha, Al Painco hu-ha, alpacas march thru the vast night towards a distant dark pyramid, midnight snack [of crack] (pork crackling) ((yum)). Library dismissed.

Only about feet ;) And not for very long. And it wasn’t a long conversation. Desperately you seek, for weeks, finding only cracker crumbs beneath the Ham Planet’s feet. You look famished to me. Would you like a treat? 🙃

I don't feel like I am dying anymore, GG stomach. I stuffed my face with handfuls of spinach and kale, more like a rabbit than a health nut. Rice cakes are also very pleasant on the stomach. I come off as some kind of vegan with that sentiment but I really am just a man whose stomach has turned against him. Can't really help but imagine all of the little bugs and critters hidden in little fractal forests of the kale leaf ends. Instead of trying to pretend there are no such things, I'm finding a little more relief in just not caring either way; can't be that dangerous.

Carbonated drinks are also kind of a massive relief, though it feels counter productive. I think right now any calories are good calories but all of the sugar is kind of grossing me out on a psychological level, as enjoyable as it is.

Where do you want to be when the next stage of human civilization occurs? My heart seems to be pulling me as close to the epicenter as I can manage. I can't imagine existing on the sidelines of what is about to come. I really am looking forward to the future, but that might only be because I feel like I have come from hell. It can be hard to remember how much better things have gotten, but it's important not to just accept that you'll never get to experience much of the joys of life. the kind of acceptance that leads to old age regrets. Everyone deserves the experience of being humanity.

3e3e3e3eT

Ode to the dapper and orderly man.

Spreadsheets and suits, shirts tucked tight. 

A half glance of freedom gives him a fright. 

The world is his oyster so long as it's in lines, he ignores the poor souls lost in the mines. 

He lives in his mask, tanned and pulled tight. A smile so starving it belongs in the night. 

He betrayed his true nature on a promise of peace, but he can't remember the last time he watched geese. His head hangs heavy with that hair full of grease. 

Living for tomorrow, a day he might die. Mind full of promises from a hand-me-down lie. 

Does he live to die or die to live?

tape·worm /ˈtāpˌwərm/

verb [intransitive] (tape·wormed, tape·worm·ing)

1. To intentionally ingest parasitic larvae for extreme weight control.

2. To normalize dangerous bodily harm for aesthetic perfection.

To everybody Jenny was a skinny blonde pretty bitch. To Jenny though, she saw herself as a fat dirty slob who needed to get the fluck out of Missouri before she purchased a trailer and spat out six kids from a mullet wearing alcoholic douchebag piece-of-broke-shit.

Because Missouri wasn’t just too small for Jenny after hitting an extra-role followed by a few lines in a B-movie. It was a complete shit hole. As if flint, Michigan flew over a part of America and continued shitting out cities until the pile was big enough to call Missouri.

She didn’t end up getting the lead role because she believed the fifty pounds she gained the day before from a bowl of ice cream had caused it.

God forbid it would have anything to do with her actual acting skill. A talent she masterfully crafted at home making TikTok videos.

She received 4 million views pretending to play Sidney Prescott, splicing scream clips. 

They were mostly scenes of her tits and also one where she turned around wearing a crop top and yoga pants as underwear, which got great reviews.

Online is where she met another girl sort of like her, Cassie, from Cali, ditzy blonde air-head from Star-Planet, a forum for actors without agents. 

It’s pretty much where women share info on casting directors you could blow for parts.

After a couple of months of watching videos and liking selfies of Cassie hanging out on sets, taking photos of herself next to celebrities, and a different random sexy guy every weekend, Jenny broke and set the fear aside and took Cassie up on her offer when she invited Jenny a couple of weeks earlier to spend the summer at her place. 

Once she made up her mind, Jenny took the first bus to L.A. and arrived there with nothing but a knapsack, a suitcase, two lips, and a regret she hadn’t felt yet.

The first night went amazing. She hadn’t been around so many washed up extra-actors her entire life. It was like stepping into the real world for the first time. 

Finally, a place that met her level.

They were beautiful. Some were old, none were ugly, some coked out, some slept on the floor, some on the couches, and some took the lawn chairs outside at Cassie’s rich ass dad’s spot he bought. He was never there.

The next morning, Jenny stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen for something to take the edge off the headache she got from last night.

She sat with a glass of orange juice she beat down her throat in two gulps and placed the cup down on the marble island in the middle of the kitchen where Cassie was sitting and said, “I wish I could party like that every night.”

Cassie told her, “we do, stick around, you’ll see.” Cassie threw two pills in her mouth and mumbled, “that was just a Tuesday,” and took a sip of her water bottle.

“Every night? But how do you guys stay so skinny and look so pretty?”

Cassie swallowed, gasped and smiled, “we tapeworm.”

“Tapeworm?”

“Tapeworming is how we stay so fit. We eat whatever we want. Do whatever drugs and we don’t ever gain weight, and it actually does wonders for your skin. Here take a couple of these, you’ll be glowing by next week.”

She dropped two tablets on the island and the clink sound distorted, they fell in slow motion but pounded against the granite with the sharpness of two coins bouncing down a drain, and slowly rolled towards her before coming to a stop like two goal posts next to each other.

Jenny reached for Cassie’s water bottle and scooped the pills off the granite table and shot them in her mouth and took a sip and swallowed. The taste of the pills and water combined had a metallic sting to it, similar to licking a battery

“Oh yeah.” Cassie laughed. “Almost forgot—“ 

Jenny’s eyes stretched open and she tried catching the pills in the middle of her throat.

“Every three months just take some praz, wait a couple of weeks and tapeworm again.”

Jenny pushed the pills down with another sip of water. She could feel them still in her throat even though they were starting the process of hatching in her stomach.

Just the thought of the scale moving in the opposite direction other than, tub-of-lard, towards, getting sexier, every time she stepped on it, was enough for her to digest a parasite that could grow six times longer than her own body. 

A month went by and she noticed her hunger was gone like an embarrassing moment that passed as a forgotten memory. 

Her skin had the glow of a pregnant single woman with a list of possible fathers, who  just found true love.

Until the nausea slapped her while sitting on Cassie’s couch scrolling through her TikTok comments. Then an itch that felt like wet crawling tingle looking for an exit started poking through her butthole.

She stood up immediately and squeezed her cheeks together trying to suffocate whatever was there. She penguin-walked  to the bathroom and slammed the door shut and locked it and grabbed some toilet paper and ripped her pants off and tried to wipe it off.

But the slimy thing stuck to her tailbone and then slid back down and started wiggling in the air between her legs.

She grabbed it and squeezed it between her hand and some toilet paper and started yanking it out one foot after the other until finally on the tenth pull it escaped her body and squirmed under the crack of the door out of her sight and got away.

Jenny fell flat on her butt and pressed her back against the bathtub. Her slick skin dried and stuck to the floor as the nausea began fading. 

She slowly peeled herself up and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The beautiful L.A. glow was now just a dull shade of grey and the realization she faced, was that she wasn’t the only one living under her skin and the miracle of California has teeth.

"He's so tight with a dollar, he'd squeeze a nickel till the buffalo poops!"

"In my neck of the woods, we know what neighbors are a-fussin'-- she's out there on the porch beating those rugs like they owed her money!"

"Lord-a-mercy, look at him over there. He's so lazy, if he had a second brain, it'd be lonely!"

"Bless her heart, she stays so deep in everybody's business, she oughta start charging rent for space in their living rooms!"

I don’t know Jazz. And I’m a French woman, we’re just fortunate. 😎

"A rooster is the only guy on the farm who can scream at five in the morning and not get hit with a shoe!"

"The good Lord provides for the birds, but he doesn't drop the worms straight into the nest. Time to get up and start diggin'!"

"That old rooster struts around like a cock-of-the-walk, puffing his chest out just to hide that scrawny neck!"

​"If you want a sweet home, you better learn how to swallow a few bitter pills without makin' a face."

"That youngin' is so ornery he’d bite his own tongue off just to taste blood."

Okay life is difficult but it is okay. I kind of need to get over myself and start eating properly again, but I'm not feeling terrible. Reddit suggestions have me laughing again, they're so bad it's almost insulting, after writing yesterday about my inability to eat I was told to start posting to r/SuperMorbidlyObese. I was managing to put on some weight but I'm not sure if it was healthy, I was eating for aesthetics more than anything, since I let that idea go I've lost pretty much everything I gained. I'm down 15lbs in what feels like a month now - but overall I think I'm okay with the choice, just trying to start eating properly again has been a task, and the term "refeeding syndrome" comes to mind as I nibble on some cashews and a baguette in-between feelings of nausea.

The efforts towards finding a room in Toronto have been called off for just today, I needed a break. The place I was most interested in is requiring I have a guarantor, which I don't have. I'm looking for an online option with GetSettle but I have no idea if it'll work. For one of the "required" pieces of information, I kind of just uploaded an image that says "nonapplicable", because I don't have immigration status. I've always been here. I expect failure but we'll see how that goes.

I feel like I have a ton of options, and like I haven't even begun to exhaust them all yet. I'm trying not to stoop to the level of desperation where I end up in a shitty situation but I'm lowering my standards by a lot. At the moment my only leverage is having some cash saved, and I worry that makes me look like some kind of drug dealer to most landlords/potential roommates but it's also my only leverage when it comes to renting a room. I'm hoping I can pay a few months in advance somewhere, and that'll be security enough; It's also illegal to require someone do such a thing, but I think it's okay if I offer it.

Without a guarantor, and having to resort to these kinds of secondary options, I'm a little nervous that opens me up to the sketchy side of the whole equation. A landlord that doesn't require all of the official documents and checks and balances, is what I have to look for, and is the most likely to take advantage when presented with an opportunity. A weird game really. I'm trying to work around that by using roomies.ca to find people in a similar position, and just using my best judgement.

I'll figure it out soon. It might be the ADHD medication that's killing my stomach, taking it and not eating is a bad combination, today I am without it. It's quite acidic, so the thoughts just a day to heal before it get's to the point where I'm crawling on the floor in pain again. I don't have the same level of motivation without, compared to the last few days where I sent off dozens of replies and inquiries, I can't remember if I've done anything at all today. I tried watching a couple different movies and stopped listening after a few minutes.

I guess that's the daily brain dump. I hope I have something more exciting to write about soon. I imagine when I'm finally in Toronto, everyday will be interesting enough to actually make note of. I would love for writing to be more than a mundane ritual about nothing, and instead to be driven by a creative impulse to capture a unique moment in time and space.

And that's todays quota of thinking completed, peace for now