there have been quite a few discussions on poetry on here and more than a few people post it from time to time, but i don't think anybody's asked this question recently if at all on this site, so let me be the first to do that.

alternative/bonus question for those of you who can't pick a singular poem: who is your favorite poet in general?

(also just to be clear, non-anglophone poetry/poets are of course welcome for the answer here. don't feel limited or obligated to confine yourself just to english poetry because most of the people here are anglophones)

Hanging alone? Spending time with friends? Loved ones? Going out dancing? Drinks? Sitting down with a good book? Playing games online with friends? Going hiking? Cooking? Gardening?

Also, how often do you get to spend your Friday nights in the manner you most enjoy?

Those of you who keep hundreds of tabs open: I'm curious how and why you use them. I'd hoard tabs in the past, but in a sad incident a browser (Firefox) restart caused the loss of all my 10s of open tabs that was accumulated over weeks long research about a topic, I decided to never trust tabs again. Now I'm making use of my bookmars toolbar, Org mode and Instapaper for most of the stuff having many tabs open was the method before. So, for me, tabs were for keeping stuff handy during research, read-it-later lists, and temporary bookmarks. What are the use cases for you?

Usecases :

• Recurring posting which can't be done (for numerous reasons) like @hungariantoast recently mentioned
• Trickle-down posting because certain people feel bad when they post a bunch of topics since they feel like it floods the ~groups

There's room for abuse but I think Tildes' "Trust people but punish abusers" applies here.

This isn’t what I want it to be. I’ve just had too many to care.

Most days I don’t need any to not care.

Yet I smile at them; servers and baristas.

Try hard, smile, look happy.

Maybe they’ll think you’re cute.

You arrogant shit.

“Sisyphus!

Arrogant twat,

How shall you pay

For the sins you’ve wrought?

I’ll hang your dreams

In delicate swathe

And leave you to work

Forever for naught.

.

Sisyphus!

You “god” among men

I’ll number your days

Count them by hand

While you work, serve

Slave to my end

Your bones will strain

And bend.

.

Sisyphus!

You represent

The whole that is wrong

With the common man

I’ll make you sweat,

And I’ll make you beg

(That) one day you’ll be free

Again!”

.

Dear Sisyphus,

I know your soul.

Your struggle is mine

And we share the goal

That work, work, will come

To an end

And we’ll live again

As free men.

.

Sisyphus,

I hear your cries –

Your yelps of pain

In the dead of night

When your muscles strain

And your mind ain’t right

My brother

Your pain is mine!

.

Gods above –!

Rescue me!

.

Sisyphus!

I’m you, incarnate.

I do my work and

Sing my songs in

Hope the gods will

Hear my plea

And one day

set me free.

.

I am he!

I aloud decree,

assuming Sisyphus’

identity.

I live his plight,

beg myself free

that I’ll find a

love for me.

.

SISYPHUS.

THIS IS YOUR WROUGHT.

YOUR MERIT THE PAIN,

THIS DAY YOU’VE SOUGHT.

YOU KNOW YOUR SINS

AND NOW YOU BEG

THAT YOU MAY FRESH BEGIN

.

THE GODS WILL REMEMBER

SINS IN DECEMBER;

DRAG YOUR SOUL DOWN

DEEP TO THE EMBER.

YOU AS THE KINDLE

YOU AND YOUR KINFOLK

FOREVER LIGHT OUR WAY.

.

SISYPHUS.

“IMMACULATE.”

WHAT A SHAME YOU’LL FIND

COME END YOUR FATE

WHEN THE TRUTH REVEALS

YOUR LOVE IS FAKE.

Howdily-doodly Tilderinos.

I want to say "See Title." But I feel like that kinda defeats the purpose of this site, so I'll expound a bit.

Looking around me now, I see couples walking around. I see young men strutting down the street; rushing to and fro; or making their trek somewhere on a bike. I see young women on these rent-a-scooter things that Bird and other companies offer; walking beside their friends; or sitting with their books.

And I can't help but reflect on how much our adult lives are built around doing romantically isolating things. We sleep 8-hours a day; social progress here is only made in dreams that we occasionally wish to remain in. We work 8-hours a day; and as far as I understand it, relationships with colleagues are wholly discouraged. That leaves us 8 hours to cook, eat, maintain a home, relax, participate in hobbies, enjoy friends, and enjoy family.

Our society feels, to me, very live-to-work; not that I have an alternative to the status quo to offer.

That being said – Tilda Swintons, how did you meet your significant others?

edit: "howdilly" => "howdily"

I normally never take reports of ufos seriously, but major news outlets are reporting on videos taken by Navy pilots and the news anchors seem to take it as a joke. Even if these ufos are just high tech government drones or weather balloons, you'd think people would at least be curious in finding out what these things are.

Around the office normally I hear chatter about the news and current events, but nothing about these ufos. Nobody brings them up. On discussion forums, talk about the ufos seems really sparse as well. Even subreddits dedicated to ufos seem to not care very much about these videos being on the mainstream news. Now with legitimate proof that there is something strange in the air, why does nobody seem to care?

What are the leading explanations to what these things are? One explanation I've heard for at least one of the videos is that it's a stationary weather balloon that only appears to be moving due to the camera on the plane moving. I can accept this explanation for that video, but what about the other videos? And what about the navy pilot testimonies? Is this all just a publicity stunt for History Channel's new show?

are you so thirsty

you would drink your own blood?

do you feel so dirty

that you bathe in wet mud?

are you so alone

that you make talk with yourself?

are you so afraid

that you, your own friends, repel?

.

would you clean your skin with acid

just to feel pure within your casket?

would you feed on rot and mold

in attempt to feed your soul?

are you so cold, your blankets worn,

you'd set your home ablaze for warmth?

do you so fear the words you'll hear

you'll drive metal spears into your ears?

.

are you so broken

and without any help

you would crack your own skull

and find some gold to smelt

in hopes you leave your corpse

a void kintsugi shell?

if not; then why, dear brain,

do you want to burn yourself

Apologies for the spam. This may be the last one today; worst-case there's only one more coming.

I see you, pretty home,

with your couch, your floor, and kitchen.

I see your sign there, hoping

that I might call and visit.

I want to tour your space

and dream of how I'd fill it.

What chair, what bed, what rug,

and if it could home a kitten.

.

I can see a career

that let's me furnish you to 9.

I faintly feel a hope

that one day you might be mine.

I teeter on a plan

that I could start, if energized

that would lead me to you

if I could try, and all went right.

.

A fireplace in cold,

you'd stay lit, always, in orange.

the warmest of colors

keeps my mind free of contortion.

Your firm, solid structure

Keeps me confident, supported.

What a beautiful dream;

I hope, one day, to afford it.