New poem: From Fiction
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h1 {
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<td>Ursula K. le Guin</td>
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<td></td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>2024-W22</td>
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<td>Caliban and the Witch</td>
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<td>Silvia Federici</td>
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<td></td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>2024-W23</td>
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<td>Under the Sign of Saturn</td>
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<td>Susan Sontag</td>
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<td>Most of the book was a slog, and I had to skip an essay or two, but there were two excerpts that made me feel "seen" (in an annoying Twitter way):<br><blockquote>It is characteristic of the Saturnine temperament to blame its undertow of inwardness on the will. Convinced that the will is weak, the melancholic may make extravagant efforts to develop it. If these efforts are successful, the resulting hypertrophy of will usually takes the form of a compulsive devotion to work. Thus Baudelaire, who suffered constantly from "acedia, the malady of monks," ended many letters and his Intimate Journals with the most impassioned pledges to work more, to work uninterruptedly, to do nothing but work. (Despair over "every defeat of the will" - Baudelaire's phrase again - is a characteristic complaint of modern artists and intellectuals, particularly of those who are both.) One is condemned to work; otherwise, one might not do anything at all.</blockquote><br>and:<br><blockquote>All his writings are polemical. But the deepest impulse of his temperament was not combative. It was celebratory. His debunking forays, which presumed the readiness to be made indignant by inanity, obtuseness, hypocrisy - these gradually subsided. He was more interested in bestowing praise, sharing his passions. He was a taxonomist of jubilation, and of the mind's earnest play.</blockquote></td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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</table>
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</body>
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@ -163,6 +163,18 @@
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<td>Brandi Carlile</td>
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<td></td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>2024-W22</td>
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<td>chapter 1</td>
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<td>girl in red</td>
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<td>Favorite track: <b>i wanna be your girlfriend</b></td>
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</tr>
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<tr>
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<td>2024-W23</td>
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<td>The Nearly Deads</td>
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<td>The Nearly Deads</td>
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<td>Favorite track: <b>Thanks For Nothing</b></td>
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</tr>
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</tbody>
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</table>
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</body>
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@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
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<li>July 1 - <a href="./2023/july/FULL_TOR.html">It's never been a better time to dive into Tor</a></li>
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<li>June 1 - <a href="./2023/june/torward.html">Look Torward, Young Vane</a></li>
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<li>May 1 - <a href="./2023/may/web3-3.html">Broke Dumbass Attempts To Web3 Once More</a></li>
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<li>April 1 - <a href="./2023/april/LiveUSB.html">I spent a week using Tails as my only operating system</a></li>
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<li>April 1 - <a href="./2023/04/LiveUSB.html">I spent a week using Tails as my only operating system</a></li>
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<li>March 1 - <a href="./2023/march/theatrhythm.html">THEATRHYTHM FINAL BAR LINE has kinda grown on me</a></li>
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<li>February 1 - <a href="./2023/february/utopia.html">I installed Utopia so you don't have to</a></li>
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<li>January 1 - <a href="./2023/january/UterusPin.html">Uterus Pin Perler Bead Pattern</a></li>
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25
index.gmi
25
index.gmi
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@ -19,13 +19,22 @@ just remember all the men who ever deemed you "leech"
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Also available on:
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=> gemini://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion Gemini (Tor)
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=> gopher://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion Gopher (Tor)
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=> http://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion HTTP (Tor)
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=> http://zli2qsg54w7y42vgw4xxlnj4nktcpg7xp33yjxkp33sjafvznbwa.b32.i2p HTTP (I2P)
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=> http://yggdrasil.mayvane.day HTTP (Yggdrasil)
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=> nex://yggdrasil.mayvane.day Nex (Yggdrasil)
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=> spartan://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion:3000 Spartan (Tor)
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=> spartan://yggdrasil.mayvane.day Spartan (Yggdrasil)
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## Tor
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=> gemini://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion Gemini
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=> gopher://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion Gopher
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=> http://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion HTTP
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=> spartan://sabladem4rxv5p34qcpz6sxitmftvmzmlzi4cjmmh5a3phcvdi3k2wad.onion:3000 Spartan
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## I2P
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=> http://zli2qsg54w7y42vgw4xxlnj4nktcpg7xp33yjxkp33sjafvznbwa.b32.i2p HTTP
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## Yggdrasil
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=> http://yggdrasil.mayvane.day HTTP
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=> nex://yggdrasil.mayvane.day Nex
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=> spartan://yggdrasil.mayvane.day Spartan
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=> scroll://yggdrasil.mayvane.day Scroll
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## Other
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=> http://127.0.0.1:8888/USK@Up0ipQCQjyY2PaGofU-P63kJMb54E0~2xZiUnyxPypM,rGmJhPDVou6DwS6Eh23sZ93hVbDaA6v4D5l3vWsN-oY,AQACAAE/mayvaneday/-1/ Freenet
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=> ipns://mayvaneday.org IPFS
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=> scroll://faris.mayvane.day Scroll
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@ -54,10 +54,7 @@
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<div class="box">
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<h3>Announcement Box</h3>
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<ul>
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<li><b>2024-04-24</b>: My landlord has agreed to extend my lease for another year. It does, in fact, get better!</li>
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<li><b>2024-04-10</b>: I've changed the way URLs are structured for blog posts. The new system will be in effect going forward and slowly be applied to old posts. If you link to one of my posts from elsewhere and you now get a 404, that's why.</li>
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<li><b>2024-04-03</b>: The address for this website's Tor hidden service has changed! I still have access to the <code>meynethaffeecaps</code> keys; I just needed a change. See below and <a href="./identity/index.html"><code>/identity/</code></a> for the new address.</li>
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<li><b>2024-04-02</b>: One joins her local library board and suddenly finds all the current bikeshedding about Gemini/ZeroNet/Linux others are doing deeply embarrassing and transient. Curious!</li>
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<li><b>2024-06-04</b>: I can't find a way to write a blog post about what I want to without making it sound like I've had a psychotic break, so you <a href="./poetry/f/from_fiction.txt">get a poem instead!</a> See you next month.</li>
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</ul>
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</div>
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<hr>
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index.gmi
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index.gmi.abstract
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From Fiction
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2024-06-04
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***
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Fictionkin: the
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identity
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that you can at least partially
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trace your roots, your origin,
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to a piece of fiction.
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Whether
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as a character
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or a place or general vibe,
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you were born
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in foreign clime
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(or maybe here but other time)
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with story that takes place elsewhere.
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For some, the explanation
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of how this came to be
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is spiritual: reincarnation,
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or a split soul, separating
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twins, or some other convoluted
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explanation
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that I haven't
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the words to account for.
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For others, the origin
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of this phenomenon is
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psychological;
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the brain
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is great
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at contorting itself
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into maddened shapes
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for the sake
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of survival,
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and sometimes this means
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self-convincing
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that the person on the screen
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or described in novel's prose
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is the truest
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expression
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of the observer that one knows.
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Having known
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the mania of both,
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I must record the following observations.
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Please do not think me
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some hateful entity
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worth of being
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erased from posterity
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or harassed into silence:
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these are not an outsider's
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uninformed jabs meant to hurt;
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all that I am about
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to recount
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is from my own experience.
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One of the biggest signifiers
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of if a kin
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is legitimate
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is the presence of memories
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that cannot be explained by prior
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knowledge of the source material.
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B-plots discarded; other characters
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that would have made logical sense
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to paper over a plot hole
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but were erased, sometimes with remnants
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like a stray clip of audio
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or a model left untextured;
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an explanation of what came before;
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knowing what happens after fall the credits.
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Secondarily,
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even without exact memories,
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a sense of familiarity
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with the story's setting.
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Like how, even though
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I moved out of Forever Home
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almost a solid decade ago
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and of the changes made since I will never know,
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when the plot of my dreams call for a dwelling
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that floor plan is the first to volunteer.
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There is a man I'll call Anchorite
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(although you can most likely guess
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his true name if you're reading this
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at the end of May's hiatus)
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and for a solid two weeks he was *me*, he was *my* life.
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I hued my nails, I bought hair dye,
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I even tried to exorcise
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the belly fat
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that sought to pad
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my organs from the world outside.
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But through all this, though I could point
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to a thousand different things
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we held in common, what I always lacked
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were his memories.
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Can an individual form an identity
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when removed from their surroundings
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and of their memories made bereft?
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You know, we bonded through a game
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that asks that question in great depth,
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and the conclusion that I drew
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is that, when all traits
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have been drained,
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all that remains
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is the costume.
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All that, after all, I have is
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an image frozen, static.
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Unless the damned character dies,
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I get no closure,
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no knowledge
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of how
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played out
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the rest of their life.
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Just a snapshot of how they were.
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They stay the same
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in narrative loop
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allowing me to change.
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I wonder
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how others
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handle
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sequels.
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If having remembered, under assumption
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that what we held canon
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was all we ever would,
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the remainder of a life untransmitted.
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To chain one's deepest sense of self
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to the whims of a corporation.
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If the universe is infinite,
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I suppose that'd leave room to interpret
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canon in a different
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way.
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I should know, as Lethe Beltane.
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What I have as Lethe
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that I never had as Anchorite
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or any other
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characters
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whose "brainworms" wrapped me tight
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is that sense of continuity,
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the feeling
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that the story
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is happening *now*
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and not something I need to measure myself against: found
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wanting
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in every category,
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as yet the world's worst cosplay.
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There is no "out-of-character":
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who I am is me, is her.
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No fear of discontinuity.
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I am my own future.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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@ -59,6 +59,7 @@
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=> f/flickering.txt Flickering Out
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=> f/forgesitaj-memoroj.txt forgesitaj memoroj
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=> f/forgive-me-marcel.txt forgive me, Marcel
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=> f/from_fiction.txt From Fiction
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## G
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=> g/gemini.txt Gemini
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@ -60,6 +60,7 @@ iF
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0Flickering Out f/flickering.txt
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0forgesitaj memoroj f/forgesitaj-memoroj.txt
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0forgive me, Marcel f/forgive-me-marcel.txt
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0From Fiction f/from_fiction.txt
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iG
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0Gemini g/gemini.txt
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│ ├── <a href="./f/firebrand.txt">firebrand.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./f/flickering.txt">flickering.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./f/forgesitaj-memoroj.txt">forgesitaj-memoroj.txt</a><br>
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│ └── <a href="./f/forgive-me-marcel.txt">forgive-me-marcel.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./f/forgive-me-marcel.txt">forgive-me-marcel.txt</a><br>
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│ └── <a href="./f/from_fiction.txt">from_fiction.txt</a><br>
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├── <a href="./g/">g</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./g/garden-gym.txt">garden-gym.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./g/gaze_rank.txt">gaze_rank.txt</a><br>
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└── <a href="./z/zircons_beacon.txt">zircons_beacon.txt</a><br>
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<br><br><p>
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25 directories, 165 files
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25 directories, 166 files
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</p>
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<hr>
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