Dirk Strider (
existechialism) wrote in
thoughtformed2012-12-28 11:00 pm
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001 ♥
Hmm. Ok.
I think I have officially been ‘real’ long enough to have settled into the experience. You know, gotten over the complete fuckin’ shock and everything. And one thing I have noticed is the lack of any god damn qualifiable difference between my present state of being ‘real’ and my past state of what I guess these dudes would call my fictionality, or fictioness. Tack on any adjectival ending you prefer; there ain’t no such thing as an adjectival form of fiction just like there ain’t no such thing as any of us since we came here, if I’m getting this right. Thank god these benevolent dictators of reality took us by our ignorant hands and led us out of the cave of shadows into the light because why the fuck not embody the fictional trope of the noble but misguided savage while acting out the wet dream of every totalitarian dystopia ever wrought by pen. Way to keep it real, dudes.
So maybe I am just blinded by the realness of this real reality versus the kindergarten cut-out of non-reality I inhabited before,
But when exactly do I start feeling it?
Is it when I graduate reality high school, or do I have to go to reality college? Do I get a special set of reality-seeing glasses along with my diploma, and if so, can I get them in the shape of a radical pair of right triangles?
Or is it more like the onset of puberty or maybe even some Kafka-esque metamorphosis? One day I just wake up and it’s like shit, look at all this really real realness. This is like. The Platonic form of realness beside which all other realness must scuff in an embarrassed and flushed fashion at the floor.
When I referred to any kind of shit getting real before I might as well have been calling orange soda orange juice because that shit was in fact nothing but cancerous artificial preservatives lacking any nutritional value next to what I assume is a tastier and healthier alternative.
Doubt it though.
Fucking nothing is tastier than orange soda.
Anyway. 'Sup New Moore.
I think I have officially been ‘real’ long enough to have settled into the experience. You know, gotten over the complete fuckin’ shock and everything. And one thing I have noticed is the lack of any god damn qualifiable difference between my present state of being ‘real’ and my past state of what I guess these dudes would call my fictionality, or fictioness. Tack on any adjectival ending you prefer; there ain’t no such thing as an adjectival form of fiction just like there ain’t no such thing as any of us since we came here, if I’m getting this right. Thank god these benevolent dictators of reality took us by our ignorant hands and led us out of the cave of shadows into the light because why the fuck not embody the fictional trope of the noble but misguided savage while acting out the wet dream of every totalitarian dystopia ever wrought by pen. Way to keep it real, dudes.
So maybe I am just blinded by the realness of this real reality versus the kindergarten cut-out of non-reality I inhabited before,
But when exactly do I start feeling it?
Is it when I graduate reality high school, or do I have to go to reality college? Do I get a special set of reality-seeing glasses along with my diploma, and if so, can I get them in the shape of a radical pair of right triangles?
Or is it more like the onset of puberty or maybe even some Kafka-esque metamorphosis? One day I just wake up and it’s like shit, look at all this really real realness. This is like. The Platonic form of realness beside which all other realness must scuff in an embarrassed and flushed fashion at the floor.
When I referred to any kind of shit getting real before I might as well have been calling orange soda orange juice because that shit was in fact nothing but cancerous artificial preservatives lacking any nutritional value next to what I assume is a tastier and healthier alternative.
Doubt it though.
Fucking nothing is tastier than orange soda.
Anyway. 'Sup New Moore.
no subject
in the same way that i was here before and dont remember it
time and space seems to work differently here than it did at home
no subject
Always good to know that no matter where I go some me has been there before.
It's sort of comforting, you know? Every single god damn time I turn around there's me, hanging out, throwing myself a casual 'what's up, Dirk?'.
When there are literally so many instantiations of yourself you cannot turn a corner let alone step into another universe without running into one,
That's some life-affirming shit.
no subject
no subject
So who else is here that I would probably know?
no subject
there are a lot of people here
and they are all probably excited to see you!
other than that i have not been here very long myself so im sorry
i am probably the most useless welcoming party