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Yay my extremely wealthy landlord megacorp has just retroactively increased how much I owe them for the past year, again!

That's just what the world needs, that a mom who can't find funds to immigrate her children transferred 150€ extra to be shared between ultrarich property owners. Every day I am so glad that we live in the most efficient allocation of resources possible, the holy offer/demand curves of the free market.

re: on the feeling of being a lover 

Instead of labels and relationship scripts, I came to see relationships more in terms of needs. When A is jealous of what B and C have, that points to unfulfilled needs on the part of A. In my case my lack is not for wifedom, but on the contrary to free myself from the prision of nuclear family, from these claustrophobic concrete jails we call home. My need for co-housing is not a marriage need, it's a community need. In the same way that I always knew I needed many many partners, and finally having this be real is so fulfilling and glorious, I always knew I needed to live communally with a whole multigenerational band, sharing material resources and common labour.

If I could live with a few trusty comrades without any romantic or sexual connection, that would fulfill this one need just as well. And the sadness I feel at an empty apartment is there on a couple's apartment, too, I still remember it so well I can taste it. It's easy to project the relationship scripts we're given, but the sadness I feel is not a matter of love, love works differently for us. All you have to do is—

Ask her and she'll tell you who she is.
Be careful with her, with what she demands
Pomba-Gira, Queen, wife to no husband.

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on the feeling of being a lover 

there's a polyamory antipattern I call the Husband-Wife-Lover schema. the terms are deliberately patriarchal but apply accross genders, but are not gender-neutral (I get gender dysphoria when I do The Husband, even if everything it's 100% lesbian).

this schema is often a V. the vertice is the Husband, who sees the Wife often and the Lover seldomlier. there's nothing inherently wrong with different time and other commitments – it's inevitable, really – but it's easy to fall back into the HWL pattern we're scripted for, especially if the people involved don't date anybody else, especially if The Wife is cohabiting and The Lover isn't. The pattern generates the following kinds of feeling:

* The Wife feels like they're a chore, a burden, routine, there just because they're there. They envy the electricity, the passion, the lilt in the voice when the Husband is going to see the Lover, and feel sad over not being able to generate the same effect. They feel guilt over feeling sad and ruining everything for everybody. They resent being alone, and fear being abandoned at any time for the shiny new thing.

* The Lover feels like they're just an amusement, the side chick, the lesser important one. They envy the daily companionship and sharing The Wife gets on non-romance things like budgeting or holiday travels. They feel guilty over intruding with their needs and runing a stable relationship. They resent being alone, and fear being abandoned at any time for the solid stable thing.

* The Husband feels like they can't enjoy being with anybody because somebody else is being sad about it, and that awareness can't be turned off. They resent getting the cold shoulder after being with the other partner, and feel guilty for not being able to accomodate the hurt which creates this cold treatment. They feel like there's a number of choices to make but all of them result in disaster. They resent feeling alone no mater who they're with, and fear being abandoned at any time for a monogamic partner.

Before finding enthusiastic partners to upgrade polyamory into , my practice of poly devolved many times into Husband-Wife-Lover. Since I'm famously promiscuous, and I resisted ending relationships even when they were clearly not working, I usually ended up being The Husband, with partners who said things like "I guess I'll try this polyamory thing for you but I don't really feel like seeing anybody else, but I'll learn to accept it". (I could never make this work, and I'm sorry to say it, but I'm not confident it ever can.)

Now that I'm the high-intensity slut of my dreams and I'm drowning in love and acceptance for all sides, I find myself surprised to discover Lover-adjacent feelings. It is very important for me to deconstruct the poly paradigm of primary-secondary. If I date 13 people, of course I won't share much time with any one of them (I often do kinky orgi—I mean multiple dates, which optimises one's free time , but even then). And if I don't share much time with a partner, of course that will shape our relationships into different forms than a partner they see every day. This doesn't make anybody less or more important to one another.

I take a good look into myself and ask: Am I jealous of The Wife? Do I want to be somebody's wife, someone's special chosen partner who ceremonially is not just a girlfriend, not just a friend, not just a hookup, not just a "just"? And I have to admit that my sincere honest answer, erupting from the bottom of my heart, is: :blobcathissing: .

I hate marriage. I don't often feel literal hate at things, even institutions, but this is one that makes every fibre of my body quiver with repulse. I reject the hierarchy implied in this label, the kind of religiosity which created it is the enemy of the kind of religiosity of my religion. I don't want to be anybody's wife, ever. I will be everyone's, or no one's.

voice dysphoria, mh 

you're forced to face so many of them here and every single time it feels like a gruesome epic battle, and not of the fun kind.

slut-shaming from decades ago, eye contact photo 

(Googles her nickname out of pent-up longing.)
(Unlike what I assumed, it doesn't seem to be derived from the shortening of a given name.)
(All of the hits refer to a telenovela actress who went big then disappeared from the spotlight.)
(Looks up broadcasting year, 1997. A match.)
(Telenovela character was a brothel prostitute.)

Well fuck. Maybe she didn't get to pick her school alias after all. She was a bully, she was a dangerous delinquent, but she was a girl.

(The quotation under the headline is "I will never escape the role.")
(The headline itself is "Twenty years later, telenovela actress is still known as a

quenga.")

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bullying, school trauma, incipient sexuality, alcohol, memory 

My family moved often, and through many schools I had a large number of bullies, most of them long forgotten, if not the bodily memories of their daily slaps and stomps. I had a large number of physically violent bullies, and a small number of female bullies, but I had only one girl bully who was physically violent. That one, I still remember even her name. Not her birth name, that doesn't matter, doesn't count, her school name, her alias. (Mine at this particular school was "Crane", for my long thin legs—as a nerd I didn't get to pick my name, of course; she did).

I hated her. I despised her petty, pointless cruelty with the haughty moral high ground that only weakness and resentment can fuel. Being a little dork who was a total dupe and couldn't see the scam, I looked down on her disinterest on study matters, on her disruptive attitude in class. I crushed on her, hard, in a way that absolutely was very much sexual. I loathed her punches, I looked forward to the feeling of her skin on me, to her *scent*. Any influence of these experiences in today's me being a sadistic domme I will leave for you to psychoanalise, it seems too obvious but who knows. Do keep in mind that I was a very sexual kid, though, I was horny about a lot of things.

(Oh she was dominant, her presence filled the room whenever she raised her barbed voice. She had an underling, a beautiful snow-white-skinned midnight-black-haired brunette whom she corrupted to the back-of-the-room crew. Underling girl had big round magnificient boobs for her age, and somewhat of a bimbo-ish personality, which earned her scorn, which my hot bully crush would beat down in defense of her protegée. I envied them both so much. I distinctly recall one day underling girl came with a cute bra, full round and white with a Tweety cartoon pattern. Please understand, I'm plural, my memory is very wonky, I remember very little of this period, I don't know what I looked like or wore or what color was the uniform pants or if I had friends, but I remember the white bras with the Tweeties. Brazilian school uniforms use white cotton shirts, low-quality so they get transparent. In my mind I can see clearly what it must have felt for her to pick it that morning, risqué, cute, exhilarating. I can see her in front of the mirror, heart beating, hoping her parents don't notice it, or maybe she had absentee parents, and she must have felt so powerful, so sexy, so free, the very image of glamour and beauty. She was throughly slut-shamed that day, of course, never wore the Tweety bra again. To my credit, I hated how they treated her, refused to join in. To my discredit, I did nothing, didn't say a kind word. I didn't know how to say kind words, wouldn't learn for many years, and they were my bullies.)

One day I actually confessed to my bully. I don't remember what wording I used, only that I said I wanted to make out with her, tried to reason. I was a total dork, had never kissed in my life, had also been permanently horny for years and particularly horny abt this girl, and not just horny but fascinated, my beautiful hot bad girl crush, I was drawn to her like a moth to fire, yes tired cliché but it's just exactly how it felt. At my unusual act of bravery she shed her bully role for a meaningful moment, we were like the sheepdog and the wolf in Looney Tunes clocking out of their daily performance, and she looked at me with, and I swear I could taste this, with actual kindness. She said thank you, you're sweet, but it wouldn't work out between us, it wouldn't be good. Maybe she was right.

The last memory I have of these girls is from when she disappeared from school. Word was she was on sick leave, but there were rumours. She and the underling bff had been hitting the vodka, hard. Ended up in the hospital. Minors drinking themselves into alcoholic coma.

After laying down on the train tracks.

Eventually they came back, and I don't remember if they went back to abusing me or we just outgrew it. Soon we moved again and I was in another school, with a significantly more boring girl bully who was just a prejudiced Christian with no sexual tension between us. There's no resolution to this story, no twist. I think it was the first time I can remember where I had an inkling that bullies were not just these random walking incarnations of cruelty, that there was something else going on, something foul and thick with a darkness that teacher's pet good kid me couldn't imagine. I was afraid of this intuition, of how much it complicated my simple if terrible position in the world. I have no idea what that girl was going through, though low-class Brazilian girl, it's easy to draw hypotheses. I think I only really came to understand bullies when I was a teacher myself, and could see them at a safe position, realise how much bondage even the scariest of them is under as minors in this society.

how to write well! (sarcasm, mocking gender ideology) 

how to write well!

- cut off all unnecessary words
- use fewer words
- fewer
- grunt

- don't use adverbs and adjectives, these are effeminate. use exclusively that manliest hairy bear of word classes: the nouns. er I mean, be men! noun! stoic! strength!
- don't use Latinate nouns, those are pompous foreign sissies.
- basically be a Nazi for words

- don't split infinitives. do you know who never splits infinitives? Latin. splitting infinitives is for uneducated English peasants. who do you want to be, poor people or glorious civilisation men conquerors?
- don't dangle adverbs. because I told you to. this is a very reasonable rule that makes a lot of sense.
- you have to know the rules before you break them.
- why? cos the authorities told you to

- also you can't really break them at all except every 4 years very dramatically like in the last line of a poem or s/t

- yes everybody breaks these arbitrary rules all the time including the most conservative and traditional writers of all time, but if you pretend you follow the rules you get to mock people when they don't, it's called being a writer

- shorten your sentences. shorten. omit. ssshhh
- kill your darlings. if there's a piece of writing you're really proud of and makes you feel good, delete it. delete. it. only keep sentences you have no emotional connection to, this is called editing. are you going to what, __let__ your darlings live? are you gay or something???
- write only things you hate as little as possible, that's called "literature".
- basically all good writing is Ernest Hemingway.
- "hi I'm a corpus linguist and I ran some statistics and Ernest Hemingway actually has above-average ratios of adjectives and long sentences" shut up nerd
- look just do everything Strunk & White ordered, they're the authorities
- "hi I'm a corpus linguist and I ran some statistics and Strunk & White's 'The Elements of Style' itself has above-average ratios of adjectives and long sentences" do what S&W **said**, not what they did

ageism and ableism 

listening to leftie podcast and it just casually remarks that teenagers can't be trusted with decisions cos their brains are not fully-formed. it still shocks me how casually people I trust will mobilise the same pseudoscience rhetoric used by racists and gender reactionaries.

"yeah but studies show that teenagers don't have a developed sense of consequences" you know who else doesn't have a developed sense of consequences? adhd folk. for brain reasons, we're starved for dopamine and can't project time well, we can only really connect to the present moment (some of the diagnostic criteria for adhd include "getting a drug addiction", "having a crime sheet", "attraction to extreme sports" and "traffic fines").

I'm 37, which means I have lived independently for 20 years. I took a lot of risks in these 20 years (and before too, when parents weren't looking, but you know). I was taking significant risks *yesterday*. If you live a whole life attracted to risk-taking sometimes things go wrong, do you know how I feel when I have to deal with the consequences of my behaviour? Ask any teenager, big grin, "worth it". I wouldn't live any other way.

Now, I'm a parent too (I've been a parent for a long time (I took some risks)), so I can tell you the secret, the real reason why parents rationalise coercion: We don't get the rewards, only the downsides. If my kid wants to do boxing I get worried out of my mind about the risk of brain damage, yet I myself enjoy boxing, for the same reasons they do. But when they do it I don't get the experience, I don't get the thrill of finding an opening in someone's guard and fitting in a hook. When they do it I only get the worry. My kid should be throughly informed of the risks and protective measures and alternatives, but if in the end they want to do it, I don't have a right to stop them any more than a worried girlfriend has to coerce what I do, and if you believe I can be free, ask yourself, why do you think that doesn't apply to teenagers?

Unless you're advocating that neurodiv folk like me should be constrained too, for our own good, in which case I'll call some teenagers and riot. Be careful, we have a defective sense of consequences.

work- 

heck this is really a whole bunch of outfits huh.

I'll spend all the time I have _sorting_ for laundry

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animal abuse 

I guess it's just asking too much that people CW their "food" posts for animal parts >.> this stuff is so normalised, people don't really see tearing off a chunk of somebody's body for pleasure as abuse. they will CW somebody kicking a dog and consider it an awful thing, but will happily talk of eating chicken wings.

you should just assume all "food" posts are things that will make you sad, unless it's specifically marked vegan.

I hate veganism. I hate that veganism is a thing. I wish it was called "self-evident ethical baseline", I wish it was the unnamed common sense, and we had a special name for the practice of killing and hurting for pleasure.

me: I want to _program_ my devices! the ditoo is so cool but it doesn't do what I want, I want to tailor my toys to my needs

Android: you can program me! I have Kotlin and Java on my Android Studio

me: no not like that

Pipewire, yay new audio thingie! There were too many audio thingies in the Linux stack so we needed a new one that covers everyone's use cases. With this brand new addition to that Linux audio graph meme, audio will surely now just work, and I'll be able to listen to music on Linux!!

(need manual masking of pulseaudio user systemd services)
(still stuck with pavucontrol, the only jack-type visualiser didn't work with my gtk)
(needed to dig up obscure error logs and search online to find out which obscure library needed to be installed for bluetooth)
(bluetooth disconnects periodically on my card)
(search online, problem has been around for a long time, no workarounds)

(look up from paper bag and into the camera) I don't know what I expected

the other day I asked the internet whether an anime linux girl sticker would be considered too juvenile or silly by the average German corporate boss.

instead I got a lot of replies from people not in Germany that in their own (not their bosses') opinion a stylised, abstract female body in a retro striped bikini is too sexualised.

I'm still struggling hard not to rant abt how I feel about the notions of female shapes as inherently sexualised, of sexualisation as a bad thing in the first place, of the kinds of social spaces where sexuality is and isn't allowed to be acknowledged and the interests this serves, and of self-policing. because this is the kind of thing I really don't want to argue about. but I'm still bitter.

re: dating, co-living, breakup, prefiguration, gayness 

I don't know how to solve the conflict issue (or the architecture issue, or the landlords issue, or the "if a teen girl runs from her abusive family and we give her a friendly place to crash, I'll be accused of kidnapping and transing her" issue. or, you know, the "world is literally burning" issue). it seems to me that under capitalism there is just too much friction in moving. ideally you would want it to be easy, fluid, convenient to move together, and easy to unmove together. it is particularly hard in Germany, but it's hard in all capitalist societies. the only way I can see out of that is a much deeper prefiguration of property abolition, of ownership under usufruct. whole libraries of stuff that are never yours, always the community's, but you can otherwise hold onto as much as you want (para todos todo, para nosotros nada. will get that tattoo yet.) clothes, why not? computer monitors, why not? heavy stuff stay in the house, whatever house you move into is already fully furnished. we all own nothing, we all own everything, we consume less and take care of things more. we take care of one another. most people are not attracted to ideas like this, though.

anyway easy to dream but irl here am I in my big apartment, alone with my headache, owning as sole proprietess all this cruft I couldn't care less about, the one girlfriend who wanted to move in with me, gone. the one girl I ever been with who was not just tolerant, but downright enthusiastic, about having a house with me with doors wide open, dates and friends coming in and out all the time. all the things that normally people tell me "I understand your enthusiasm but that's not for me."

still. perhaps I'm looking at this whole thing wrong. I'm too lesbian, I want all the U-haul trucks parking here on second date. people have stuff to deal with, have their own life plans to work on. but I spent the last weekend with 2 people I love doing perverted gay stuff like cuddling all night, or walking in the part to see the litle duckieses babbyes. I had my darling catgirl around for a couple days, possum enby is coming tomorrow, then I get the sweetest demiboy you can imagine for a whooping 6 days, then the snep sweetheart for, what, 9 in a row?? and she'll bring a new girl along, too. it's easy to get used to it, but wow, what even is this life. it's easy to forget how magical. sometimes I think of getting back into couchsurfing, then I realise I don't need to.

and the stays overlap a bit, which means they'll get to know one another. which means my apartment is one step closer to public space.

perhaps this is the prefiguration I can handle for now. if I get any of those jobs I can afford even this big apartment alone. probably. and then I make it more and more guest-friendly, and I just invite people to use it for stays of a length comfortable for them, as many people as I can find.

if vaccination does calm down this one crisis at least, I bet there will be a good number of friends wanting to travel to Germany and in need of a safe house to stay.

"Nosotros nacimos de la noche. En ella vivimos. Moriremos en ella. Pero la luz será mañana para los más, para todos aquellos que hoy lloran la noche, para quienes se niega el día, para quienes es regalo la muerte, para quienes está prohibida la vida. Para todos la luz. Para todos todo.""

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dating, co-living, breakup, prefiguration, gayness 

I knew of course that structuring Anarchist Catgirl Commune in terms purely of romantic relationships would be a mistake. Romantic relationships have Feelings in them, and sometimes when Feelings break people need space. if your goal is to create a safe shelter community for trans people who can't otherwise find shelter or community, that creates one heck of a power differential if they don't want to be around you after a breakup.

I guess this is another reason the breakup hit so hard. I was just thinking of the conflict issue as, dunno, something to solve at some point, like the architecture issue, the "systemic failure of capitalism that was inevitable all along but we are all pretending isn't happening right now" issue. small implementation details.

or maybe I was just overconfident in my ability to be a safe haven. I am, as I often say, Not Young, and also Yes Promiscuous. so I've been through any number of breakups. all of them were difficult, some of them were conflict-heavy.

but I am at friendly speaking terms at least with all my exes, am still an intimate emotional support friend of all my post-transition exes. well not "all" anymore I guess 🤷‍♀️

the thing with the recent breakup is, we were such a perfect match on everything _else_, it's so frustrating. she was the first person I met who felt the same way I did about aiming at a new S.T.A.R. house. we were discussing moving together. we were discussing concrete plans for communal living. it's still hard for me to believe it's all over.

with me disillusioned over a career, disillusioned over Japan, disillusioned over academia, disillusioned over the 9-year-long relationship that didn't work out. it's hard not to feel like, am I just unlivable with. what am I even living for anymore, ok the kids, but the kids won't be kids forever, heck they're teens already somehow. am I only ever tolerable in small doses. I'm almost 40, will I have to submit to the nuclear family model for life. I've hated every single day of the nuclear family model, from a child up to this instant. these cursed little jails of brick and glass, locking us with one another. or even worse, will I have to just be alone. I,, do not do well alone. all high-minded ideals of a S.T.A.R. house aside. if I have nobody to take care of, my levels of dysfunction just explode.

re: I miss my girlfriend so much 

…aaand just like that, a memory. from 15 years ago. 16, give or take. the girl who taught me polyamory, the girl who got me into literature, humanities. the girl I wanted to slowly turn into.

me feeling like this about her. we would send one another CD compilations, retro mixtapes, I think it was already retro back then. she recorded me a CDR with video messages once. I completely forgot about that, the memory just came back unrequested.

a song I had sent her, I had forgotten the song, I had forgotten the whole artist.
youtube.com/watch?v=js-neDhzFy

maybe just because I can't remember a thing, doesn't mean it's gone forever. maybe it will return someday, out of own accord. maybe it is not death in life.

or if it is, then what is dead may never die.

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oh wow, pretty proud of this. give me validation and tell me I'm fantastic—wait no I don’t need it, I already know.

brb getting a job, a shock absorber, pop filter? does that make it better or worse for asmr?, learning how to produce it properly.

listen with headphones. stereo mic so that the seawitch whisper into your ears :)

files.transmom.love/video/cthu

lol was doing a mic test of whisper and just induced asmr on self

I mean literal asmr, like, the shiver on spine thingie. not even what I want to do when I say I want to do "asmr", I mean it in the fantasy comfort sense. but I'm taking this as a success <3

counseling somebody to break up if their partner keeps not fulfilling their needs. unsure whether they're actually bad for them or it's the black bile in me trying to spread itself.

I mean they have been talking for months of this one core need being ignored no matter what they do, and I'm trying to be very explicit and direct about the fact I'm speaking from an awful place and probably overly pessimistic etc. but still I worry about doing harm rather than good counsel

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