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<p>There exists a species of person on the internet I'd like to describe as a "Discord bro". Their native habitat is, as their name suggests, the proprietary chat service Discord, wherein they join (or perhaps create) dozens of servers in which to spam ironic memes and discuss how this makes them so much better than "those normies", all while completely ignoring the <a href="https://archive.md/20200821213424/https://spyware.neocities.org/articles/discord.html">completely unethical</a> <a href="https://archive.md/20200821213643/https://stallman.org/discord.html">nature of Discord.</a> They're almost exclusively male and avid video game fans- although, I should note as to avoid sounding like a third-wave feminist harpy screeching, these two things, whether alone or apart, aren't necessarily good or bad either way. But when paired with Discord, you generally get a person who desperately wants to stand apart from the crowd, but just ends up being another cookie-cutter shape.</p>
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<p>There exists a species of person on the internet I'd like to describe as a "Discord bro". Their native habitat is, as their name suggests, the proprietary chat service Discord, wherein they join (or perhaps create) dozens of servers in which to spam ironic memes and discuss how this makes them so much better than "those normies", all while completely ignoring the <a href="https://archive.md/20200821213424/https://spyware.neocities.org/articles/discord.html">completely unethical</a> <a href="https://archive.md/20200821213643/https://stallman.org/discord.html">nature of Discord.</a> They're almost exclusively male and avid video game fans. And when paired with Discord, you generally get a person who desperately wants to stand apart from the crowd, but just ends up being another cookie-cutter shape.</p>
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<p>In short, being a user of a corporate proprietary chat service is not a replacement for a personality.</p>
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<p>Generally, I can ignore these kinds of people. But Weest, one of the people I <em>was</em> subscribed to on the Big Red, recently put out a <a href="https://invidious.snopyta.org/watch?v=_c2Oui8DtyM">new video</a> in which he baits a scammer pretending to be a would-be sponsor into sponsoring a dedicated video to his shitty Pokemon-Go-meets-Monopoly game, only to completely shit on the game. Which is all fine and dandy and interesting, despite being a "Discord bro".</p>
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<p>What set me off in this instance was the intro, in which he explains why sponsors flood his business email. He spends a few moments (about three minutes in) describing the demographics of his audience: young gamer men who use Discord, essentially. And immediately after, he remarks how this makes him "valuable" and how his manager "uses those numbers" when he reaches out to people.</p>
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<p>Out to ages yonder, people I shall never meet ever again in this lifetime, to what some may call a fancier age. "She's taken with <a href="https://archive.md/20200821213941/http://logicmgmt.com/1876/overview/medicine/diseases.htm">consumption</a>." Isolated in a hospital somewhere, sick, deathly ill. Wasting away. Men like skinnier girls, you know? Men like corpses, dolls, playthings. Men like helpless creatures. But they're afraid of this corpse, for if it takes them, it may take their life as well. Something else is consuming the woman this time.</p>
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<p>I stand in my kitchen as scattered light plays on the hardwood floor, reflections of the tree branches waving outside. <em>I should like to be a tree one day,</em> I think. And I think, and I think, and I think of anything other than the fridge which holds food to be consumed. Nothing much more than some cheese and an apple - an apple, which came from an apple tree somewhere I will probably never see. It was an apple which supposedly condemned humanity to sin and despair and death. A story I don't subscribe to, but one which surrounds me nonetheless. Lilith and Eve, lovers separated by the whims of an angry god. Here is an apple tree. Do not consume its fruits, partake of the rapture of knowledge of oneself.</p>
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<p>Deep in the small of the night, wading through despair, wailing for a life I'm not even sure I ever lived, a place I'm still not completely convinced exists. Everything in the world is <a href="https://archive.md/20200821214115/https://gopher.tildeverse.org/zaibatsu.circumlunar.space/0/~solderpunk/phlog/asceticism-or-something-like-it.txt">bloat</a>. Your beloved games? Bloat. Your eye candy desktop? Bloat. Graphical browsers? Bloat. This sync program is bloat; use this different one. Oh, it has less features to the point of being useless? I don't care. <a href="../april/run-every-day.html">Bloat, bloat, bloat.</a> You slam your laptop shut in frustration, but there is no escape. What of media? The things you surround yourself offline, online, in the weird space between with the constant connectivity of today? Breaks aren't allowed. You have to constantly be creating, creating more than you consume.</p>
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<p>Deep in the small of the night, wading through despair, wailing for a life I'm not even sure I ever lived, a place I'm still not completely convinced exists. Everything in the world is <a href="https://archive.md/20200821214115/https://gopher.tildeverse.org/zaibatsu.circumlunar.space/0/~solderpunk/phlog/asceticism-or-something-like-it.txt">bloat</a>. Your beloved games? Bloat. Your eye candy desktop? Bloat. Graphical browsers? Bloat. This sync program is bloat; use this different one. Oh, it has less features to the point of being useless? I don't care. <a href="../04/run-every-day.html">Bloat, bloat, bloat.</a> You slam your laptop shut in frustration, but there is no escape. What of media? The things you surround yourself offline, online, in the weird space between with the constant connectivity of today? Breaks aren't allowed. You have to constantly be creating, creating more than you consume.</p>
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<p>Growing plants without soil or water, trying to fish in a manmade lake, living without food.</p>
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<p>Do not consume.</p>
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<p>Do not consume.</p>
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<p><a href="../../2019/april/run-every-day.html">A little over a year ago</a>, I didn't know how to start a post with some crazy ideas in it, either. Although, granted, I was at my grandma's house at the time, a visit from my cousins freshly ended (or about to start; I can't remember which) and for whatever reason, whenever I'm sitting in that purple-walled room, so impersonal since I moved out over a decade ago, I always feel numb. I feel nothing except the endless stretch of time before me, blank, possessionless. At least, when pacing back and forth in my room from the sheer anxiety of being pent-up with nowhere to go, I feel sorrow, I feel grief, I feel feral rage. But in the Purple Room? I feel nothing.</p>
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<p><a href="../../2019/04/run-every-day.html">A little over a year ago</a>, I didn't know how to start a post with some crazy ideas in it, either. Although, granted, I was at my grandma's house at the time, a visit from my cousins freshly ended (or about to start; I can't remember which) and for whatever reason, whenever I'm sitting in that purple-walled room, so impersonal since I moved out over a decade ago, I always feel numb. I feel nothing except the endless stretch of time before me, blank, possessionless. At least, when pacing back and forth in my room from the sheer anxiety of being pent-up with nowhere to go, I feel sorrow, I feel grief, I feel feral rage. But in the Purple Room? I feel nothing.</p>
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<p>Like a trial run of the likely nothing after death, but with more obsessive playing on my Switch to pad out the time between meals.</p>
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<p>But the “likely” is not “absolute”, is not “certain”. For one day many years ago, curled up on the floor in front of the closet doors, my eyes closed, I had my first contact with the Outside. I left my body for a few seconds.</p>
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<p>I remember my first thought: “Cool! I wonder what it would be like to be a wolf.” And I leaped forward, hands coalescing into paws, and bumped into the footboard of the massive bed that takes up most of the room.</p>
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<blockquote>"The first time you meet an angel, you get a horrible beating."<br>- Terry A. Davis</blockquote>
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<blockquote>"I am deliberate and afraid of nothing."<br>- Audre Lorde</blockquote>
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<p>What was true for me then may not be true for me at this present moment. I reserve the right to grow and change.</p>
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<h2>2026</h2>
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<li>June 21 - <a href="./2019/june/separatism.html">Separatism</a></li>
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<li>June 20 - <a href="./2019/june/second-class-citizens.html">Second-Class Citizens</a></li>
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<li>May 23 - <a href="./2019/05/gender-critical.html">So I guess I'm gender-critical now</a></li>
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<li>April 20 - <a href="./2019/april/run-every-day.html">run every day</a></li>
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<li>April 11 - <a href="./2019/april/honkpill.html">The Honkpill</a></li>
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<li>April 1 - <a href="./2019/april/weest-in-peace.html">Weest In Peace</a></li>
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<li>April 20 - <a href="./2019/04/run-every-day.html">run every day</a></li>
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<li>April 11 - <a href="./2019/04/honkpill.html">The Honkpill</a></li>
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<li>April 1 - <a href="./2019/04/weest-in-peace.html">Weest In Peace</a></li>
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<td>Writing Creativity and Soul</td>
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<td>Sue Monk Kidd</td>
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<td>Casual</td>
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<td class="snippet">I became inundated with speeches, opportunities, schedules, promotion, expectations, shoulds, and have-tos. A measure of this could be exhilarating; an overload was deadening. I grew unhappy by small increments, the kind of slow accretion you barely notice until one day you're sitting at your desk and realize the words are no longer coming, your attention span has shrunk, your mind flits around, multitasking. The river of creative energy running through you is being diverted into dozens of little tributaries, and it's becoming harder and harder to hear your writer's voice. You are, you realize, rather miserable.</td>
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<br>
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<p><a class="button" href="#moids">> Show books by men too?</a></p>
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<p><a class="button" href="#">> Aahh! Never mind!</a></p>
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