hi folks, billy mays here.

after getting some new music equipment for christmas, i finally sat down and spent the last 15-ish of the last 20 hours working on my first instrumental.

it's not super polished, and kinda rough in parts (as things usually go with first projects)

but hey - it's mine and it's a point to grow from.

so here ye go peeps - "Elk Song" x Bishop

(no vocals obvi, it's just instrumentals and lyrics for now until i find someone with a studio in the area.

...and money.)

as always, any thoughts/feedback are more than welcome. cheers

bishop

BISHOP NEHM MICH UNTER

we off the drink we off the emo shit

esskeetit

peep the inspo track sat the bottom or we cant be ffriends

sold my soul to the devil

so that i could feel valued

remember bein in a empty

home with a vacuum

former straight-edge

off the drink, off the valium

wanna go back to our

mornings with the cartoons

made my heart a whale

then you hit it with a harpoon

bleedin on the beach, staring

up at the full moon

sometimes life rains

down in a monsoon

i'd be glad to drown if

it means i can love you

.

but i cant even hug you

can't even text you.

antidepressooos

bishop 5'6" but he tryna

be big news.

.

tryna get big so you

cannot forget me

honey your love is a

xanny it's deadly

how'm i supposed to

forget about kelly

or bout all of those nights

that you called me, unsteady

wish i loved you correctly

shit got unsteady

i was just tryna get

us a few pennies

put you in a bentley

put you in the fendi

wasn't rich enough so

you got all offended

on the offensive

antidepressents

fuck that bullshit

it just makes me sedated

.

dont wanna feel shit

if i cant feel you

prayin that you'll text me

"let me heal you"

you got 50 shades of grey

i can see through

but somehow still

made me believe you

ignroed all the red flags

so i could keep you

mistook for an angel

whenever i'd see you

but now you a model

you said "i don need you"

looking for a camera

you can show your tits to

then the devil approached me.

said "i can guarantee you."

.

so i went to the sea

heard a voice, "take a knee"

so i nodded, agreed

and he said "you will serve me -

Boy listen closely

each one of your dreams

surrender control to

you want the money,

someone to devote to,

4-k square foot house

to go home to.

this, i can construe

if you submit to

living your life, all despite

where you'll go to.

i now control you

your soul - i have claim to

but think of all the things

that my hands can bring you.

so i bowed on my knees -

now this man, i submit to.

.

ave satani

i give you my body

my soul, it was drawn, he

took it, made a copy

forgot about mommy

woke up smelling coffee

looked in the mirror

did not hate my body

the sky was all foggy

and greyed-out, but oddly

i liked it enough to

not waste the day nodding

or off of the molly

or in my room rocking

with her voice talking

.

ave satani

the blood and the body

the dark it is calling

and i find it calming

it's sated the longing

lil bishop's evolving

let's go to the graveyard

i feel like walking

and talking

and nodding

inspo tracks: peep this shit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ff0bq_ydEQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y17IQ96Zzjk

i headed home from
the store last night
hair kinda fucked up
red in my eyes
stared at the road
not a car in sight
looked up at the sky
sunset looked nice

drinks in the seat
drugs on the mind
looking for a way to
go numb for the night
then the clouds came down
sent a fog up high
couldn't see ahead
something didn't feel right

i was five minutes out
so i pressed on home
accompanied by another
feeling of alone
turned on the radio
put down my phone
tried to shake the nerves
with a half-good song

pressed on the gas
and the fog pressed low
saw something flickering
with shape unknown
it was just dead ahead
then a mile up the road
then i came to a halt
from my seat i was thrown.

--

front-end smashed,
not a soul was around
i called out for help
but nobody heard a sound
i crawled to my car
and i looked all around
then i looked up to god
and the rain came down

then my radio sang,
and i turned my head 'round
reached for the volume
my hand knocked out
heard a voice, "listen close"
as my back hit the ground
then the radio spoke,
in my head, heard it shout

i awoke in my bed
with no pain in my neck
rushed out to my car
no sign of a wreck
didn't know the day or
the time, had to check
8am again, the crash
didn't happen yet.

i tried to think back
memories on a thread
but something stood out
ever clear in my head,
the song that i heard
with the words i can't forget
had to write em all down
i ran back to my desk

i rushed the words down,
i almost felt myself mad.
the song made me miss
a love i never even had
that's when it clicked,
i finally understand
finally took a look
at the world in my hands

she was never perfect,
negatively drove you mad
all the pain, the hurt,
anxiety, you felt at her hands
you remembered all the exits,
and escapes that you planned
but you persevered through,
now she loves another man

but fuck it, that's good
she only ever made you hurt
all the times you felt alone,
and mistreated by her words
all the foolish fights she started,
all the stupid shit she stirred
look past all the beauty, boy
abuse, you don't deserve

it's a big-ass world, boy
you'll find a better girl
take a look back for yourself
and see how things really were
go on, my son,
you'll inherit the world
because the love that you miss,
you never had back with her.

Introduction

I want to give an introduction on several physics topics at a level understandable to laypeople (high school level physics background). Making physics accessible to laypeople is a much discussed topic at universities. It can be very hard to translate the professional terms into a language understandable by people outside the field. So I will take this opportunity to challenge myself to (hopefully) create an understandable introduction to interesting topics in modern physics. To this end, I will take liberties in explaining things, and not always go for full scientific accuracy, while hopefully still getting the core concepts across. If a more in-depth explanation is wanted, please ask in the comments and I will do my best to answer.

Previous topics

Bookmarkable meta post with links to all previous topics

Today's topic

Today's topic is the dual nature of light and matter, the wave-particle duality. It is a central concept in quantum mechanics that - as is tradition - violates common sense. I will first discuss the duality for light and then, in the next post, for matter.

The dual nature of light

In what terms can we think of light so that its behaviour becomes understandable to us? As waves? Or as particles? There are arguments to be made for both. Let's look at what phenomena we can explain if we treat light as a wave.

The wave nature of light

Let's start with an analogy. Drop two stones in a pond, imagine what happens to the ripples in the pond when they meet each other. They will interact, when two troughs meet they amplify each other, forming a deeper trough. When two crests meet they do the same. When a crest and a trough meet they cancel out.

Now if we shine light through two small openings and observe the resulting pattern, we see it's just like ripples in a pond, forming an interference pattern. When looking at the pattern formed on a screen placed at some distance from the openings, we see a striped pattern Light can be described as an electromagnetic wave, with crests and troughs. It sure seems like light is wavey! The wave nature of light allows us to describe phenomena like refraction and diffraction.

The particle nature of light

When we shine light on some metals, they will start tossing out electrons. This is called the photoelectric effect. How can we understand this process? Well we know light is a wave, so we imagine that the wave crashes into the electron that is chilling out near the surface of the metal. Once the electron has absorbed enough of the light's energy it will be able to overcome the attractive forces between itself and the positively charged atom core (remember, an electron has negative charge and so is attracted to the atom cores). So a higher intensity of light should make the electron absorb the required amount of energy more quickly. Easy, done!

However, there's something very peculiar going on with the photoelectric effect. If we shine low frequency light on said metal, no matter how intense the light, not a single electron will emerge. Meanwhile if we shine very little high frequency light on the metal, no matter how low the intensity, the electron will emerge. But how can this be? A higher intensity of light should mean the electron is receiving more energy. Why does frequency enter into this?

It seems that the electron needs a single solid punch in order to escape the metal. In other words, it seems it needs to be hit by something like a microscopic billiard ball that will punch it out of the metal in one go. The way physicists understand this is by saying light is made up out of particles called photons, and that the energy a photon carries is linked to its frequency. So, now we can understand the photoelectric effect! When the frequency is high enough, the photons in the light beam all individually carry enough energy to convince an electron to leave the metal. When the frequency is too low, none of the photons individually can knock an electron out of the metal. So even if we fire a single photon, with high enough frequency, at the metal we will see one electron emerging. If we shine low frequency light with a super high intensity at the metal, not a single photon will emerge.

So there you have it! Light is made out of particles. Wait, what? You just told us it's made out of electromagnetic waves!

The wave-particle duality of light

So, maybe light is just particles and the wave are some sort of emerging behaviour? This was a popular idea, one that Einstein held for some time. Remember the experiment where we shone light through two small openings and saw interference (commonly known as the double slit experiment)? Let's just take a single photon and shoot it at the openings! Because light is particles we'll see the photon just goes through either opening - like a particle would. Then all the non-believers will have to admit light is made out of particles! However, when we do the experiment we see the photon interfere with itself, like it was a wave. Remember this picture which we said was due to wave interference of light? When a single photon goes through the openings, it will land somewhere on the screen, but it can only ever land in an area where the light waves wouldn't cancel out. If we shoot a bunch of photons through the openings one at a time, we will see that the photons create the same pattern as the one we said is due to wave interference!

Implications

So it would seem light acts like a particle in some cases, but it acts like a wave in some others. Let's take a step back and question these results. Why are we trying to fit light into either description? Just because it's convenient for us to think about things like waves and particles - we understand them intuitively. But really, there is no reason nature needs to behave in ways we find easy to understand. Why can't a photon be a bit wavey and a bit particley at the same time? Is it really that weird, or is it just our intuition being confused by this world we have no intuitive experience with? I would love to hear your opinions in the comments!

Observing photons

To add one final helping of crazy to this story; if we measure the photon's location right after it emerges from the slit we find that it doesn't interfere with itself and that it just went through a single slit. This links back to my previous post where I described superpositions in quantum mechanics. By observing the photon at the slits, we collapsed its superposition and it will behave as if it's really located at one spot, instead of being somehow spread out like a wave and interacting with itself. The self interaction is a result of its wavefunction interacting with itself, a concept that I will explain in the next post.

Conclusion

We learned that light cannot be described fully by treating it simply as a wave or simply as a bunch of particles. It seems to be a bit of both - but neither - at the same time. This forces us to abandon our intuition and accept that the quantum world is just fundamentally different from our every day life.

Next time

Next time we will talk about the dual nature of matter and try to unify the wave and particle descriptions through a concept known as the wavefunction.

Feedback

As usual, please let me know where I missed the mark. Also let me know if things are not clear to you, I will try to explain further in the comments!

Addendum

The photoelectric effect is actually what gave Einstein his Nobel prize! Although he is famous for his work on relativity theory he was very influential in the development of quantum mechanics too.

apathetic.
hardly wanna move, too
depressed to drink
pathetic.
see a demon's hand
on your closet door
forget it.
possession and a hell-
bound sentence better
than remembrance.
my uncle got so fucked
up that he passed, guess
it's genetic.

exhausted
tryna make depression
beautiful, poetic.
tired of this dance
between lethargic,
apoplectic.
brain on sober
tweakin every minute
schizophrenic. all
the thoughts i'm
barely eatin tryna live
up to aesthetics.

tired of my fucking
skin, a serpent's wish
to shed it.
i saw all the flags
drenched in red
how prophetic.
baphomet in
female form, they said
you'd be angelic.
my single dying wish
you'd be a little
sympathetic

-.

don't come
don't come
to my funeral.

don't cry
don't cry
at my funeral.

just know i
thought you
were beautiful.

even with your
knife at my throat
beautiful

.

where to go
no one's home,
honey can i call?

every day
feed the night
it's insatiable

i never thought
i'd come to say it
maybe its your fault.

i cant believe ive
come so low to say
that its your fault.

-.

i hope you kiss me,
hope you hold me,
when i see you in hell.
cuddle closely
and console me
when i see you in hell.
girl dont push me
will he? wont he?
boy how many pills?
all his poems,
magnum opus, testa-
ment and will.

if i cant know you
lay beside you
then somebody will.
dont wanna own you
or control you, you
do what you will.
i'll just sit here in
the cold, alone, and
write my will.
bottoms up a
litre wine a couple
hands of pills

EDIT: With the help of @ducks the post now has illustrations to clear up the experimental set-up.

Introduction

I want to give an introduction on several physics topics at a level understandable to laypeople (high school level physics background). Making physics accessible to laypeople is a much discussed topic at universities. It can be very hard to translate the professional terms into a language understandable by people outside the field. So I will take this opportunity to challenge myself to (hopefully) create an understandable introduction to interesting topics in modern physics. To this end, I will take liberties in explaining things, and not always go for full scientific accuracy, while hopefully still getting the core concepts across. If a more in-depth explanation is wanted, please ask in the comments and I will do my best to answer.

Previous topics

Spintronics
Quantum Oscillations
Quantisation and spin, part 1

Today's topic

Today's topic will be a continuation of the topics discussed in my last post. So if you haven't, please read part 1 first (see link above). We will be sending particles through two Stern-Gerlach apparatuses and then we'll put the particles through three of them. We will discuss our observations and draw some very interesting conclusions from it on the quantum nature of our universe. Not bad for a single experiment that can be performed easily!

Rotating the Stern-Gerlach apparatus

We will start simple and rotate the set-up of the last post 90 degrees so that the magnets face left and right instead of up and down. Now let's think for a moment what we expect would happen if we sent silver atoms through this setup. Logically, there should not be in any difference in outcome if we rotate our experiment 90 degrees (neglecting gravity, whose strength is very low compared to the strength of the magnets). This is a core concept of physics, there are no "privileged" frames of reference in which the results would be more correct. So it is reasonable to assume that the atoms would split left and right in the same way they split up and down last time. This is indeed what happens when we perform the experiment. Great!

Two Stern-Gerlach apparatuses

Let's continue our discussion by chaining two Stern-Gerlach apparatuses together. The first apparatus will be oriented up-down, the second one left-right. We will be sending silver atoms with unknown spin through the first apparatus. As we learned in the previous post, this will cause them to separate into spin-up and spin-down states. Now we take only the spin-up silver atoms and send them into the second apparatus, which is rotated 90 degrees compared to the first one. Let's think for a moment what we expect would happen. It would be reasonable to assume that spin-left and spin-right would both appear 50% of the time, even if the silver atoms all have spin-up too. We don't really have a reason to assume a particle cannot both have spin up and spin right, or spin up and spin left. And indeed, once again we find a 50% split between spin-left and spin-right at the end of our second apparatus. Illustration here.

Three Stern-Gerlach apparatuses and a massive violation of common sense

So it would seem silver atoms have spin up or down as a property, and spin left or spin right as another property. Makes sense to me. To be sure, we take all the silver atoms that went up at the end of the first apparatus and right at the end of the second apparatus and send them through a third apparatus which is oriented up-down (so the same way as the first). Surely, all these atoms are spin-up so they will all come out up top again. We test this and find... a 50-50 split between up and down. Wait, what?

Remember that in the previous post I briefly mentioned that if you take two apparatuses who are both up-down oriented and send only the spin-up atoms through the second one they all come out up top again. So why now suddenly do they decide to split 50-50 again? We have to conclude that being forced to choose spin-left or spin-right causes the atoms to forget if they were spin-up or spin-down.

This result forces us to fundamentally reconsider how we describe the universe. We have to introduce the concepts of superposition and wave function collapse to be able to explain these results.

Superpositions, collapse and the meaning of observing in quantum physics

The way physicists make sense of the kind of behaviour described above is by saying the particles start out in a superposition; before the first experiment they are 50% in the up-state and 50% in the down-state at the same time. We can write this as 50%[spin up]+50%[spin down], and we call this a wave function. Once we send the particles through the first Stern-Gerlach apparatus each one will be forced to choose to exhibit spin-up or spin-down behaviour. At this point they are said to undergo (wave function) collapse; they are now in either the 100%[spin up] or 100%[spin down] state. This is the meaning of observing in quantum mechanics, once we interact with a property of an atom (or any particle, or even a cat) that is in a superposition this superposition is forced to collapse into a single definite state, in this case the property spin is in a superposition and upon observing is forced to collapse to spin up or spin down.

However, once we send our particles through the second apparatus, they are forced to collapse into 100%[spin left] or 100%[spin right]. As we saw above, this somehow also makes them go back into the 50%[spin up]+50%[spin down] state. The particles cannot collapse into both a definite [spin up] or [spin down] state and a definite [spin left] or [spin right] state. Knowing one precludes knowing the other. An illustration can be seen here.

This has far reaching consequences for how knowable our universe it. Even if we can perfectly describe the universe and everything in it, we still cannot know such simple things as whether a silver atom will go left or right in a magnetic field - if we know it would go up or down. It's not just that we aren't good enough at measuring, it's fundamentally unknowable. Our universe is inherently random.

Conclusion

In these two posts we have broken the laws of classical physics and were forced to create a whole new theory to describe how our universe works. We found out our universe is unknowable and inherently random. Even if we could know all the information of the state our universe is in right now, we still would not be able to track perfectly how our universe would evolve, due to the inherent chance that is baked into it.

Next time

Well that was quite mind-blowing. Next time I might discuss fermions vs bosons, two types of particles that classify all (normal) matter in the universe and that have wildly different properties. But first @ducks will take over this series for a few posts and talk about classical physics and engineering.

Feedback

As always, please feel free to ask for clarification and give me feedback on which parts of the post could me made clearer. Feel free to discuss the implications for humanity to exist in a universe that is inherently random and unknowable.

Addendum

Observant readers might argue that in this particular case we could just as well have described spin as a simple property that will align itself to the magnets. However, we find the same type of behaviour happens with angles other than 90 degrees. Say the second apparatus is at an angle phi to the first apparatus, then the chance of the particles deflecting one way is cos^2(phi/2)[up] and sin^2(phi/2)[down]. So even if there's only a 1 degree difference between the two apparatuses, there's still a chance that the spin will come out 89 degrees rotated rather than 1 degree rotated.

Introduction

I want to give an introduction on several physics topics at a level understandable to laypeople (high school level physics background). Making physics accessible to laypeople is a much discussed topic at universities. It can be very hard to translate the professional terms into a language understandable by people outside the field. So I will take this opportunity to challenge myself to (hopefully) create an understandable introduction to interesting topics in modern physics. To this end, I will take liberties in explaining things, and not always go for full scientific accuracy, while hopefully still getting the core concepts across. If a more in-depth explanation is wanted, please ask in the comments and I will do my best to answer.

Previous topics

Spintronics
Quantum Oscillations

Today's topic

Today's topic will be quantisation, explained through the results of the Stern-Gerlach experiment which was first performed in 1922. This topic treats a much more fundamental concept of quantum physics than my previous topics.

What is the Stern-Gerlach experiment?

In 1922 physicists Stern and Gerlach set up an experiment where they shot silver atoms through a magnetic field, the results of this experiment gave conclusive support for the concept of quantisation. I will now first explain the experiment and then, using the results, explain what quantisation is. If you would rather watch a video on the experiment, wikipedia provided one here, it can be watched without sound. Note that I will dive a bit deeper into the results than this video does.

The experiment consists of two magnets, put on top of each other with a gap in the middle. The top magnet has its north pole facing the gap, the bottom magnet has its south pole facing the gap. See this illustration. Now we can shoot things through the gap. What do we expect would happen? Let's first shoot through simple bar magnets. Depending on how its poles are oriented, it will either bend downwards, upwards or not at all. If the bar magnet's north pole is facing the top magnet, it will be pushed downwards (because then north is facing north). If the bar magnet's south pole is facing the top magnet, it will instead be pushed upwards. If the bar magnet's poles are at a 90 degree angle to the two magnets it will fly straight through, without bending. Lastly, if the bar magnet's poles are at any other angle, say 45 degrees, it will still bend but less so. If we send through a lot of magnets, all with a random orientation, and measure how much they got deflected at the other side of the set-up we expect to see a line, see 4 in the illustration.

Now we'll send through atoms, Stern and Gerlach chose silver atoms because they were easy to generate back in 1922 and because they have so-called spin, which we will get back to shortly. We send these silver atoms through in the same way we sent through the bar magnets; lots of them and all of them with a random orientation. Now what will happen? As it turns out all the atoms will either end up being deflected all the way up or all the way down, with nothing in between. 50% will be bent upwards, 50% downwards. So silver atoms seem to respond as if they were bar magnets that either bend maximally up or maximally down. In the illustration this is labeled 5.

If we were to take only the silver atoms that bent upwards and sent them through the experiment again, all of them would bend upwards again. They seem to remember if they previously went up or down rather than just deciding on the spot each time if they go up or down. What model can we think of that would explain this behaviour? The silver atoms must have some property that will make them decide to bend up or down. Let's call this property spin, and say that if the silver atoms chose to bend up they have spin up, if they chose to bend down they have spin down. It seems that these are the only two values spin can have, because we see them bend either maximally up or maximally down. So we can say the spin is quantised; it has two discrete values, up or down, and nothing in between.

Conclusion

We have found a property of atoms (and indeed other particles like electrons have spin too) that is quantised. This goes against classical physics where properties are continuous. This shows one of the ways in which physics at the smallest scales is fundamentally different from the physics of everyday life.

Next time

Next time we will investigate what happens when we rotate the angle of the magnets used in the experiment. This will lead us to discover other fundamental aspects of physics and nature, quantum superpositions and the inherent randomness of nature.

EDIT: part 2 is now up here.

Feedback

As discussed in the last post, I am trying something different for this post. Talking about more fundamental quantum physics that was discovered 100 years ago rather than modern physics. Did you like it? Let me know in the comments!

FUCCCCCCCCCCCC IT WE DRUNK AGAIN

WE OUT HERE GEN Z PAINN VIBIN

*#BIGMOOD*

dont @ me if u aint catch tha links

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShI6axFfqj4

https://i.imgur.com/LKIwWHa.png

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjhJ_Sv0MlI

ich schlaf'
auf einem Bett
das ich aus Stein
gemacht hab'

ich schließe
fest die augen
aber finde keine
Schaffe

einfach nur
das Mädel das
hat mich früher
verlassen

dann klebt mein arm
in der erde ein
um mich zu
begraben

-.

ich hab an
sie gelacht und
sie sieht mich
an mit Hass

ich hämmert auf'm
Nachttisch
bis ich wurde
aufgewacht

dann fragte ich
an Gott warum
ich denke immer
krass

Hände in die
Taschen, lauf'
alleine auf'm
Strass

ich möchte kein mehr
Weihnachten,
ob sie nicht an
mir sagt:

-.

Schätzi, guten
Morgen und
mich küsste auf'm
Hals

Ja ich
möchte Kaffee
ja ich lieb' dich
ebenfalls

"Liebe macht das
Heim" hat sie auf
unserem Wand
gemalt

lustig, dass sie
nicht mehr ruft
mich an oder
mich halt

-.
?
i dreamed
of you
with angered eyes,
a gaze that
filled with hate

i felt my arm
beat on my dresser
'til i did awake

a soft and shaky
soul succumbed to rub
against the grate

life has been for nothing since february eighth.\

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvlGMCVGkQA

my head is aching,
day four in sobriety.
is it the drugs or every-
thing that runs about my dreams
all the people in my night-
mares never let me sleep.
my angry father, my old
lover, or my mother's screams.

i go to bed at noon
and i wake up at three.
no power left, make some coffee
just whatever's cheap.
folgers tastes like cigarettes,
a cup of apathy.
wanna sleep inside a noose
on a dramatic tree.*

eyes on gucci cus
they're catching bags
they're getting dark, like the
stones came, painted them black
i wanna move to where the dems are at.
to the palm trees and the medicine.

i fantasize about a booked flight,
goodbyes, and a packed bag.
fresh check, laptop,
in my backpack
new friends, new home,
and a black lab.
but that's all in the clouds
and my drugs are a jetpack.

but now i'm sober
and i'm jetlagged.
and now she's back
turning my dreams bad
woke up, aching head,
and a hurting back.
dig in my closet
for a white bag.

if i'm lucky it's a heart attack.

• this line isn't mine, wish it was though, i love how self-aware it is when it comes to the hyperdramatic bullshit i always write. would love to write some more stuff in this style.

oddly enough, it's from a game grumps episode of super mario galaxy lmao

maybe adding that and fixing the meter in these. i feel like the meter in my sober stuff is really jumpy - i can hear the different parts in my head but i don't think im piecing them together well.

have i ever done post-drunken poetry before?

i've got to be breaking some sort of rule with the amount i've been spamming this site over the last four hours.

I'm gonna go make breakfast and take a few days away to compensate.

sorry. thanks for listening.

much love

i woke up after
three hours of sleep
took a look around my room
and everything was tinted green
had a sobering reminder about
why i shouldn't drink
i get caught up in the moment
and try too hard not to think.

i'd do anything to go numb,
i'm afraid of that side of me.
it's hard, i hate myself
when in the middle of sobriety.
the room is tinted yellow as
the sunlight slips in quietly
i'm at a fork in the road,
man, i gotta choose carefully.

to the left a road of headaches,
heartache, a masochistic fantasy
take everything the hard way.
drunken, spinning memories
thinking of the good days,
accepting they're behind you
and your options won't change.
you're numb but somehow bitter
life is shorter, and it starts to fade.

off right a path of effort and torment,
pushing through the years of shit
that you drink just to forget.
the subtle kisses on your forehead
are bullets of a war chest
you're naked and afraid and
your perspective's all distorted
tryna shake your obsession with the morbid
it's been about a year since you last felt worth it.

and say you choose the better
of the two, here's the evil thing.
the second road is always there,
quiet, calm, and glistening.
internal scars and all the
hurt will start to dissipate
just share another secret,
close your eyes, and disintegrate

you're still quite young,
there's time to do the right thing.
maybe depression in aesthetic
isn't really worth you dying
and you won't find steady love
by telling everyone you're crying
that just attracts the broken, you
need something solid and inspiring
to all of you who noticed,
heard my wishes and my wailing

i'll switch to water, hope
that better starts prevailing

I've seen the occasional poetry thread, but I thought I would post some more traditional writing. This short story is background lore for my ongoing web serial, Codex, which takes place a thousand years after these events.

The research team looked like ants in the scry-screen, crawling around the laboratory as they completed the ritual’s final steps. When the spell was powered on, it let out a brief flash of brilliant orange light that made Tarrel wince and shade his eyes. The ants milled about as if their hill had just been kicked over, swarming this way and that, huddling over the piece of enchanted metal.

Tarrel stood up and left the viewing room. Renna looked up as he entered the laboratory and waved him over, a broad smile on her face. She held out her hand, offering him a bracelet made from some shiny metal; it looked like two flat chains had been woven together into a thin, knotted band. “Is that the eternium?” Tarrel asked. “Why a bracelet, and not a sword or spear?”

Renna stepped away from the five other people as an argument developed over one of the experimental readings. “It’s a gift.” She gave him an impish grin. “You’re allowed to enjoy the fruits of your labor, you know.”

The eternium was slick against his skin, as if it had been greased, and it had a mirror-perfect reflective surface that threw the bright overhead lights back into his eyes. He angled it away from him and stared at the gleaming metal, trying to dredge up the appropriate emotion, as if he could summon it into being by sheer willpower.

Logically, it should have been easy -- he had all the pieces: a beautiful girlfriend (if occasionally annoying), a prestigious research position, and a talent for magic that made most other wizards look like fumbling idiots. And of course, he was a Raal, entitled to all the benefits that came with higher civilization: immortality (or a very long life anyway), near-absolute freedom to do as he pleased (as long as that didn’t impinge on others’ freedoms), safety (from physical harm). Any non-Raal would kill to be where he was, and it was a safe bet that most Raal who knew him were at least a little envious of his status. But happiness, like an improperly drawn ritual, refused to manifest… and all Tarrel could feel was a bleak sense of anticlimactic fatigue as he looked into the shiny mirrored surface.

Renna moved closer and touched his arm. “Hey. What is it?”

He forced a smile onto his face and slid the bracelet onto his wrist. “Nothing.” The rest of the team was gathered around an Aether screen. Part of Tarrel wanted to join them, plunge back into the soothing distraction of work, but all at once he couldn’t stand the thought of doing so. He turned back to Renna, forcing the words through numb lips. “Let’s go out together.”

They could have taken a teleportation circle or a flier, but Tarrel wanted to walk so they strolled the floating streets of Ur-Dormoth together. It was nighttime, but the walkways were all lit with bright white mage-bulbs. Aircraft hummed overhead, like gigantic wingless insects, disappearing into the night as they left the city.

“Ever been to a mite city?” Tarrel asked as they walked.

“No.”

“I have,” Tarrel said. He brooded for a moment, staring out at Ur-Dormoth, sprawled across the clouds like a tangled pile of glittering lace. “They’re cramped, and squalid, and they stink of death. It’s like being in a corpse.”

Renna shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by the fate of however many millions of less fortunate people lived on the land below them. “Why do you bring it up?”

“I don’t know,” Tarrel said. “Have you ever wanted something and really worked for it, only to find that once you had it, you didn’t want it anymore?”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Renna said. “Why would you work for something you don’t want?”

Tarrel sighed. “Never mind.”

They went to the Eyrie, where Tarrel tried to look interested in the menu before giving up and ordering at random. The food arrived a few minutes later, looking decadent and delicious: creamy soup, flower-shaped pastries, a platter of fried onions. Tarrel ate mechanically, doing his best to appear as if he was enjoying it, but all he could think about was the emptiness he felt inside.

“How’s the food?” Renna asked.

Tarrel glanced at the pale white soup he was eating and tried to decide what to say. “It’s good.”

Renna leaned back in her chair. “I knew you would like it.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before we can start mass-producing the eternium?”

Renna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “A few more weeks? Once we do, the applications are immense.” Her eyes were practically glowing with excitement. “What would it be like to live in a tower taller than the highest mountain?”

Tarrel stirred his soup, wishing he could share her energetic happiness. “That’s a long way to fall.”

Renna chuckled, a delicate sound like tinkling crystal chimes, and tossed her sleek white hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll have protective enchantments. It would be quite the scandal, to be the architect responsible for the first death in centuries.”

“They don’t let you Merge,” Tarrel said, only half paying attention to the conversation.

“What?”

“Murder. If it’s deliberate, your thread is cut. No children.” Tarrel made a snipping motion with his free hand. “But if they think you meant to kill, then it’s a life for a life.”

Renna stared at him. “How do you even know that?”

Tarrel shrugged, already losing interest in the topic. “Memory spell.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s too difficult to cast for most people,” Tarrel said. Though that would change, if he ever got the framework functioning.

“What’s the framework?” Renna asked.

Tarrel realized he had spoken out loud. “Just a project I’ve been working on. You speak a command, and the framework casts the appropriate spell for you. All the power of a ritual, none of the difficulty.”

“That seems pretty useful. How’s it going?”

Tarrel blinked, not sure if he had heard her correctly. “Useful?” His lips twisted. “Nobody else seems to think it would be.”

“Are you serious? The applications for research alone would be immense. Imagine never having to cast another scrying spell.”

“They said it would be too inconvenient, or that the magic would lack power, or any of a hundred other excuses.”

Renna reached across the table and put her hand on his. “It sounds amazing to me.” Tarrel met her eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all he found was honest admiration. “Can I see it?”

Tarrel shifted in his seat and looked away. “I, uh, sort of abandoned it. Nobody seemed to want it and I ran into some thorny problems, so it seemed like I was just wasting my time.”

“Well take it out of storage! Don’t worry about them, once they see what it can do they’ll all change their mind. Your legacy would be etched in the stone of history, right up there with Elmar the Great and the Risen Kings.”

Renna frowned and held up a hand to forestall his reply. “One moment. Someone’s trying to talk to me on the Way.”

Tarrel watched, but Renna’s expression gave away little. Half a minute passed before she finished. “What was it?” Tarrel asked.

“The research lab.” Renna’s face twisted in disgust. “Apparently they decided to run another batch of eternium, but someone messed up one of the protective spells.”

“Oh,” Tarrel said. He knew he ought to say something more, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care about the fate of the researchers. If they couldn’t even cast a simple set of wards, they deserved what they got.

“They’ll be fine,” Renna said, apparently mistaking his silence for concern. “At least as long as nobody screws up their healing magic too.” She hesitated, then stood up. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I really ought to be there.”

“It’s fine,” Tarrel said. “I’ll head back to my house. Maybe work on the framework some.”

Renna smiled. “I still want to see it.”

She walked over to the teleportation circle in the corner and activated it, vanishing with a soft pop. Tarrel was left in the deserted restaurant -- or not quite deserted. There was a man, washing the tables with a cloth. Tarrel watched him as he worked his way across the room, until he was near enough to talk to.

“Why do you do that?” Tarrel asked.

The man looked up. He had a rough, honest face. “Why not?”

“You could let the golems do it. Or, if you wanted to make sure it was done properly, you could use magic. Why do it by hand?”

“Sure. The golems would probably do it better than me, and a spell could do it faster and better. But that’s not the point. Haven’t you ever found pleasure in work?”

Tarrel was on the point of saying no when he reconsidered, remembering all the times he had thrown himself head-on into inventing a new ritual or improving an old. “I suppose so. But my work isn’t something a golem can do and, when I’m done, I have something at the end.”

The man chuckled. “And when I’m done wiping a table, I have a clean table.”

“Only until someone comes in here and dirties it again,” Tarrel pointed out. He paused, struck by a sudden thought. Was that the problem, the reason for the hollowness all his achievements seemed to have? Even as one of the brightest researchers of the century, his name would inevitably be forgotten, in a hundred years, or a thousand, or ten thousand. But if he was able to create a new paradigm for magic… then he would be remembered.

“If I’m still around, I’ll get to enjoy cleaning it again. If I’m not, well, like you said: the golems can do it better anyways.”

Tarrel blinked, startled by the man’s voice. “Uh, right,” he said. He stood up. “I need to go.”

He took the teleporter back to his house and went down to his private laboratory. White mage-bulbs flared on as he entered the spacious room, illuminating the Aether screen set into one wall and the stone floor, still etched with an old circle. He cleared it, resetting the solid granite slab to its original, perfectly smooth, state.

Tarrel spent the rest of the night hunched over the Aether’s display, tweaking and changing the framework. Every so often, he would stand up and etch it into the granite floor with an eye-searing burst of brilliant orange light. Each time, the spell failed in a new, unexpected way, and Tarrel was sent back to the Aether to try to find the source of the problem.

The days merged into weeks, which flowed into months. Tarrel enchanted himself with restorative spells so he didn’t have to eat or sleep. Such behavior was considered unhealthy by most people, but it wasn’t the first time Tarrel had lost himself to the grip of work, and he no longer cared if his friends whispered behind his back or shook his head when he wasn’t looking. Like Renna had said, they would change their mind soon enough.

Renna knew enough to recognize the signs of Tarrel’s obsession, but she didn’t stop coming over to visit him. The door chimed regularly at noon every third day. They sat on one of Tarrel’s couches for ten or twenty minutes, talking until Tarrel could no longer keep himself away from the laboratory and made his excuses. For him, the time seemed one long hazy blur, interspersed only by slight, inching progress as obstacle after obstacle rose up to meet him and was defeated.

Eight months later, Tarrel stood before the granite slab and powered up the latest spell. “Fire,” he said, envisioning the unlit torch in the corner igniting. He didn’t really expect anything to happen and was thus shocked when it erupted into orange flame. His hands trembled with excitement as he stood up and approached the crackling brand. Magic! By talking! At last, it was working.

“Freeze,” Tarrel said. A chill swept over him as the torch’s flames guttered out. Water condensed on the blackened stump, then froze solid into a glittering sheen. A smile spread across his face and something warm and… happy rose inside him, like winter ice cracking and melting as summer approached. Renna’s words came back to him: Your legacy would be etched in the stone of history and he threw his head back, laughing.

Further experimentation revealed that the framework had exceeded his wildest expectations. He refined the spell, reducing the energy it consumed and increasing its potency until at last, it was fit for use in a globalization ritual. Everyone in the world, if they had the basic training necessary to use magic at all, could now access the framework.

Tarrel reached into the Way, calling for Renna. She responded at once, as if she had been waiting for him. What is it?

Come to my house, Tarrel sent back. I have something to show you.

He severed the telepathic link and stood up, unable to stop grinning. The eternium bracelet gleamed in the corner of the laboratory where he had tossed it and he went over and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. General Yenja had been excited about the eternium project. What would she think of the framework? But that was a matter for another time -- right now, he wanted to see Renna’s face when she saw what he had built. Tarrel slipped the bracelet onto his wrist and hurried up the stairs. Behind him, the mage-bulbs blinked out and the laboratory plunged into darkness.

Renna knocked on the door several minutes later. Tarrel glanced at it. “Open the door,” he said.

It swung aside, revealing a harried-looking Renna. “What is it?” she asked as she came inside.

Tarrel grinned and pointed at a glass of water sitting on the table. “Watch this,” he said. “Freeze the water in that cup.”

The surface of the water turned frosty and opaque, spreading downwards with a deep cracking sound. All at once, the glass shattered, spraying shards and chips everywhere. Tarrel jerked, surprised, then broke out into a laugh. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have been more specific in my wording.”

Renna touched the solid cylinder of ice, setting it off into a lazy spin. It twirled across the table until Tarrel caught it with one hand. “How do you like it?” he said.

“Impressive. Can I try?”

“Sure. I put it in the Way, so you should be able to access it just by thinking about it.”

Renna gestured at the ice in Tarrel’s hand. “Melt.”

Nothing happened and Tarrel chuckled. “It takes some getting used to. Try starting to cast the spell normally, then use the framework.”

“Melt.”

This time, the frozen water turned warm and started to dissolve, gushing all over Tarrel’s hands. He tossed it back onto the table before it could soak his clothes. “Freeze.”

Nothing happened and he gave Renna a rueful smile. “My mana cache is empty. I didn't even notice but I've been using the same one for all my research.”

“Here.” Renna withdrew a fat diamond pendant from beneath her shirt and held it out to him. “Take mine.”

“No,” Tarrel said. “I have a better idea.”

He reached out with his mind, drawing on the inert mana present all around and concentrating a small amount of it, refining it into the potent stuff that was normally used for spells. Only a drop, just enough to kickstart the spell he had in mind. “Refine one nex’s worth of mana. Put it into my cache, then cast two copies of this spell, using mana from the cache.”

It was the longest framework-boosted spell he had cast, but it went off without so much as a tug of mental effort. A thin trickle of mana pulsed through him, then died off as the spell became self-sustaining.

“Did you just -- ”

“That’s right,” Tarrel said. “I just revolutionized the mana collection industry.”

Renna frowned. “Maybe you ought to slow down.”

“Slow down? Why? I feel great.”

“That’s because you’re using those invigoration spells.” Renna looked around. “Do you feel that?”

It was an tingle, like an electric wind brushing over Tarrel’s skin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diamond cache, shielding his eyes as it began to glow an intense white. “Behold,” he said. “The future of the Raal.”

Renna stared at the diamond. “That doesn’t look right. Your new spell -- ”

“Not a new spell -- a new paradigm. For centuries, we have cast magic in essentially the same way. Spells have gotten better, thanks in large part to the tireless efforts of researchers like you, but it’s time for something different. Instead of engaging in a mental wrestling match, we shall simply give an order as if the magic is a servant.”

“Your refinement spell has a -- ”

Tarrel slammed his fist on the table. “Shut up!” The framework turned his order from wish into reality and he felt a sudden spike of shame. Using magic on a fellow Raal? What was he doing? But she wouldn’t see. He continued in a calmer voice. “It’s people like you who delayed this project by almost fifteen years. All that time, wasted.”

He felt the pulse of magic as Renna broke through the framework’s silencing spell. “Listen to me,” she said. The urgency in her tone gave Tarrel pause. “That diamond is about to overload. It’s the same mistake you made with the ice.”

Tarrel glanced at the incandescent diamond cube, mentally going over the wording he had used with the super-refinement spell. The same mistake he had made with the ice? The air around him felt… thin and weak, while the space around the cube seemed to shimmer and warp. What was going on? And then he got it.

He stared at Renna, horrified. “Quick. Give me your cache.”

He began the transfer spell, reverting to the more familiar mental casting in the moment of crisis. It was still incomplete when the cube exploded with a chiming sound that reverberated through his bones. Pain stabbed up Tarrel’s hand and he screamed, flailing around and spraying blood from his two missing fingers. Threads of orange refined mana flickered all around him like a hazy fog and the room dissolved into panic as the magic ran wild.

Renna’s hair stood straight up. She had time for a single terrified scream before lightning discharged from her body. Bolts radiated out in every direction, crackling and splitting the air apart, disintegrating her body into hot black flakes. Some of them landed on Tarrel’s face and he stumbled back, staring at the black scorch marks on the floor.

Tarrel’s weight vanished all at once and he floated off the ground, crashing into the ceiling before gravity reasserted itself and threw him back to the floor. The awful ringing of the broken cube continued to echo through the room, growing in strength instead of fading. It tore through his head as he wrapped his ruined hand in his shirt and sprinted for the door -- only to have the space in front of him warp and elongate. The door receded away, until it was like he was looking down a long corridor.

The first rips began to appear, fuelled by the still-continuing refinement spell as it pumped refined mana into the shards of the diamond cube. It was as if reality was a sheet of glass, fracturing and splitting. Black cracks shot through the room as the chiming hammered through Tarrel’s body. They began to glow, dim white at first, then growing in strength. They pulsed. Flickered. And as Tarrel’s hand reached for the door handle, they exploded.

Pure, white light surged out into the city, spilling from the research laboratory where Tarrel had conducted his fatal experiments. People screamed and fled. Some tried to cast spells, only to have their magic go awry in a wash of strange effects. Teleportation spells transported heads without their bodies. Flight enchantments sent their users hurtling into buildings. Wards imploded, crushing that which they were meant to protect.

Ur-Dormoth was just one city out of hundreds, but the Way, a global telepathic link which united all Raal, was irreversibly tainted. Less than a year passed before Tarrel’s name was forgotten, but in the end he got his wish: an eternal, undying legacy -- in the form of a vast, magical wasteland sprawling across a quarter of the continent.

I don’t know about you, but I’d always been taught one of 2 things about death. Either
You die and that’s that, nothing else happens and you slowly turn to unthinking dust or
You die and get transported to some mystical outside realm, either a heaven, hell, or purgatory where your immortal soul spends an infinite amount of time

Now, these aren’t nearly the only interpretations in this wide world, but if you grew up as a middle class white kid in suburban America, this is likely all you heard.

It took until my 30th year for one of these to be the official accepted scientific theory on the afterlife. Finally, after all these years, science had an answer for what happened after death, and it was-

Well

Actually, it’s not really what happens after, per se. No, this perception could not occur after death. There simply was no way any living thing could continue to perceive after death, either any way of defining life we have would be thrown out the window. Instead, this was an explanation for those pernicious near-death experiences that pop up every now and again. Rather than being dead and having moved on, these were all visions people have in the moments prior to death.

Essentially, the afterlife was all a dream put on by the brain in a vain attempt to keep itself happy and alive.

This led to a thought. What was the limits of these dreams? Would they continue forever? Would the occupant of the dream believe they could still die in the dream, or would they be an immortal thought, a ghost of firing neurons? Is the brain capable of nesting time ad infinitum, or is the clock speed of the brain too slow for that?

All signs seemed to point towards the brain giving the occupant infinite joy. Citing coma patients who believed they lived millenia in only a few weeks, the majour scientists of the day claimed a way to cheat death. After all, the only limiting factor here was how fast a bolt of electricity could move across, and since that was basically light speed, time didn’t really matter.

It didn’t really matter.

This of course led to a massive increase in suicides throughout the globe. It seemed the main limiting factor for many was whether suicide may lead to a unpleasant scenario. Even those who hadn’t, prior to the discovery, had a single suicidal thought cross their mind jumped at the chance of eternal joy. It wasn’t until much later any sense came into people.

See, it seems most people are born without a fear of the infinite. I won’t assume, of course, but would you truly find an infinite heaven scary? I would. Infinite time leads to infinite scenarios leads to infinite amounts of both joy and pain. Any amount of fun, after a sufficiently long time, gets boring.

So, the world was whipped into a global frenzy of life. Wars ended as neither side could really justify it anymore. People finally began to help each other.

And then, just as quickly as this afterlife frenzy started, it was announced the initial findings were incorrect. Perhaps a decimal slipped, so the official story was death was finite and there was no afterlife.

That was the official story, of course. The unofficial story…

Well,

Imagine you’re trying to do infinite things in two seconds. If you could split your time infinitely, you could complete all infinite things in two seconds. But all the same, everything would be done in two seconds.

Imagine now you’re trying to do those infinite things in two seconds again, but you have to work against your hands slowly disappearing. Much more difficult, and now you’re less likely to complete those infinite things, but a more finite set. If you think this whole scenario is ridiculous, it’s all based off an account by a Survivor.

The Survivors were a test group who were used to poke and prod at their afterlives until it could be fully explored. They’re who first discovered the effects of cell death on the afterlife.

As a body dies, the cells begin to die at a rate of 10 millimeters every second. The initial researchers thought this irrelevant, as the speed of the brain was too fast for it too matter. What they didn’t factor in was that he brain is one of the first parts of the body to die. Sure, electricity moving across perfectly kempt brain cells moved near light speed, but add in broken highways of neurons and suddenly it grew much, much slower.

The first Survivor to discover this recounted the sky slowly darkening and a void suddenly appearing on the horizon. They were lucky, as the test was ended prior to any majour brain damage. One less so had their memories scanned to reveal their perfect paradise being reduced to a one by one meter square and their representation writhing on the floor in apparent pain. They were not recovered.

Of course, the researchers were horrified. Only weeks prior had they stressed how painless death should now be, and here was a gauntlet thrown at their feet. So they did the only sensible thing: Lie to prevent a mass hysteria ending in the death of all humans.

And so it’s seemed to work. Just remember, if you see an empty horizon, this is the explanation:
Death has always been with us.
Nobody cheats Death.
Death will always win in a cosmic tug of war.
And, most importantly, It’s already too late It's already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late
It’s already too late

Cross-posted with /r/composting

I'm pretty proud of the results of my first year of serious composting (before this year, my method was, "dump kitchen scraps in a pile and turn it occasionally"), so I figured I'd share. Here's a picture of the pile, opened up yesterday for turning/dumping fresh kitchen scraps. Closer view, and even closer. As you can see, it still has a ways to go. It consists of mostly kitchen scraps, grass clippings, and oak leaves, and I guess the latter of those takes quite a while to break down. Here's a picture of it covered with a tarp after I was done, yesterday.

This is actually a combination of eight different smaller piles I worked on throughout the year while I was teaching myself to make compost. The first piles I made were basically just the result of mowing some tall grass/wild plants in the spring--I had thought that since I was mowing up both leaves and grass that the ratio would be just right for composting. I was wrong. Those three piles didn't really go anywhere. I should've added far more leaf matter, kept them wetter, and combined them into one rather than three.

The fourth pile was a combination of kitchen scraps and leaf matter. I had about a 1/2:1 ratio of leaf matter to kitchen scraps. It turned out okay, but of course, I should've added more browns. The fifth pile (featuring a guest who liked the "fresh greens" that I often went outside to spray onto the pile, if you catch my drift...) started out with probably a 1:1 ratio of browns to greens and ended up with a 2:1 ratio, since I started actually figuring things out. I used both mowed-up leaves and mowed-up household paper waste for my browns, and kitchen scraps and grass clippings for my greens. The pile did end up getting fairly warm. I turned it every 2-4 days.

The sixth and seventh piles were nothing but oak leaves mixed with grass clippings. I wasn't great about getting the ratios exactly right, but they were both probably close to 1 1/2:1 browns to greens. Both heated up after I turned them, every few days, and turned out great. I think I do have some pictures, but can't find them.

I started using a tarp with my eighth pile, and that tarp, as well as the increased amount of browns--always at least 2:1--made a huge difference, as previously I had a hard time keeping piles at the right moisture level. Either they'd dry out in the sun or they'd get soaked in the rain. The tarp protected from both and helped insulate the pile, enabling it to get to the right temperature despite being fairly small.

I tried to follow the Berkeley method closely (other than that I added to it every time I turned it). If I added new scraps, I let it sit for four days; otherwise, I turned it every other day. I started adding pretty much anything to it. One time while I was turning it, I found a dessicated dead robin nearby and tossed that in. There was no trace of it the next time I turned the pile.

Fairly recently, I combined all of my piles into one, as you saw above. This makes it a lot harder to turn, but it seems to be going well. Instead of making a new pile and letting this one sit, I've continued adding to this one every week, when I turn it (now that it's this big, it's hard to find time to turn it more often than that). I'm not sure if I'll be able to do this through winter. I've been stocking up on coffee grounds from Starbucks (I have maybe 8 bags of them sitting in the garage?) to help me keep it going, but it gets pretty cold here in Michigan. Maybe I should start a new pile in the winter rather than keeping this one going; I haven't decided, yet. I'm happy to hear your suggestions.

Thanks for reading! Tremendous thanks to /r/composting; everyone there is incredibly helpful, and there are many very knowledgeable folks there. I couldn't have learned this much about composting without them. I've offered them my five invitations, so hopefully we can eventually get the same kind of composting/gardening discussion over here!

I'm hardly an expert after just one year of composting, but I'm happy to answer any questions you have about my methods, about composting in general, or about how you might get started.

Now for some bonus pics, just for fun:

A bear admiring my pile
That same bear about to destroy a bird feeder... D'oh.
Compost/Hugelkultur-in-progress (I'm not sure how people find the time to gather enough woody materials/grass clippings to make a hugelkultur all at once!)

There's no more sound, not anymore.

Just the thudding of my own heart, deafening in the silence.

Erratic, the bassline pounds out, slowing. Stopping.

Just like everything else.

Behind the visor, I raise my eyes, and see the warships, the victors.

Alone in this dark space, as fragments of what had been my planet race past, I breathe my last.

I close my eyes, conceding defeat.

They had dropped out the sky, and killed and maimed.

They destroyed our way of life, our beliefs, and all the knowledge we had in a day.

Then the raped our planet, stealing her life and resources.

Every crop failed, or was stolen.

The water was siphoned up and into the sky.

They drained our oceans, leaving nothing but rotting carcasses and a new desert.

Our forests were pulped and taken away.

The barren roads of our world were lined with the dead, dying and confused creatures. Some predators survived for a time, hunting... But then they took them as well.

Everything was taken, leaving nothing but sand and us.

I was sent, a final desperate weapon, against our enemies...

Sabateur.

Desperate plans rarely work.

Instead, I found myself suspended in the vaccuum of the world... As the world was ripped apart for her final resources.

They harvested, as I lay in this lonely space, my air running out, unable to do anything.

There was no one left to save.

Tears fell from my closed eyes, as I waited for the last moment.

I know the story is a bit cliche, but it came when I was exploring Elegy for a Dead World, looking to get my creative side going a bit.

I find tiny stories like this helpful to set a mood, or get out of one, especially when my writing is blocked.

I'm hoping to see some inspired short stories, so you guys can serve as my selfish want of inspiration, or some critique of how terribly I've used this meme.

Space. Mankind’s last great mystery. Our modern day ‘Wild West’. What a privilege to be born during this golden age of space exploration, to have the chance to strike out and see a universe so full of absolutely nothing.

There is nothing out here, there’s a reason it’s often referred to as a void. Okay, yes, the more astute members of you will point out space isn’t truly empty, planets and nebulas, and even us, the humans and our crafts. But for the sake of the scale upon which we view it, its empty.

Just look at me, stuck out here, stranded, in dark space. For those of you still catching up on your terminology, that’s what we call the space in between galaxies. Yes, those galaxies, the big ones that contain untold numbers of stars. No, I don’t know how I got out here. If I did, I would have done something to reverse it.

All I can tell you is that I’m out here with a busted ship that only has enough power for life support and basic functions. Ugh, I bet you the caravan has already made it to Port Dalle, and Swiv’s drinking that blasted sludge he wouldn’t shut up about. They’re probably raising a ruckus at the bar, starting brawls and revelries alike.

And here I am, alone. Well, I have Ping. That’s what I call that eternal pinging. If you listen closely, you can hear it, every few seconds ever so faintly. Ping, ping. I can’t tell if the universe has given me company or is taunting me. My headache leans towards taunting.

Ping.

I tried turning it off, I really did. But I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. It’s almost as if the entire ship resonates with the noise. It’s not a big ship, kinda, cozy. I think that’s the word. I have to duck down to pass through the doors. The bed’s a few inches too short. But I make do, plenty of room in the storage closet if I push the tools to the side. Well, I might have jettisoned them. But, hear me out! It’s not like I’d be able to use them anyway.

‘What are you doing on that blasted ship if you can’t fix it?’ You may ask. Well, I’ll tell you. It wasn’t supposed to break. I was only supposed to be here to press the on and off buttons.

Ping.

They just didn’t include any for that blasted noise. Maybe it’s coming from behind this service panel here, it seems to be louder in the bridge, if you could call this glassed in closet a bridge.

Bang. Ow.

Note to self: pulling on random panels is a bad idea.

Ping.

Yeah yeah, keep on pinging, you stupid pinging, thing, a-lator.

Ping.

That was not a request for you to ping more frequently!

Ping.

...

What did I do to deserve this? All I ever did was try to lead a semi-normal life. As normal a life being some intergalactic space trucker, shipper, can be. I payed taxes, obeyed the law mostly, didn’t cheat. I mean, I’m not a bad person. I didn’t do anything wrong! Or did I?

I mean, there are several possibilities. Maybe one of the times a delivery was late it costed someone more then a few extra minutes of paperwork. Maybe I inadvertently stood in the wrong spot, ruining some poor tourists prized photo. Maybe I-

Ping.

Maybe I’m dead, and this is my eternal torture.

Maybe, just maybe, there isn’t such a thing as fate or karma or metaphysical legacies. Maybe, this is just some freak thing that occurred because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time? How’s that sound? Must be hard imagining not having someone to blame for all the things that go wrong, huh? Well, I’ve been stuck here for who knows how long. No one’s coming. And there’s nothing wrong with the ship except some inexplicable power loss.

Ping.

Maybe whatever’s making that noise is the cause?

Ping.

Pong.

How do you like dem apples, huh?... Well, I guess you like them. Seeing as you haven’t immediately thrown them back at me. Maybe this’ll keep me entertained for awhile, huh?

Out here, you take whatever you can get to pass the time. There is literally nothing.

I even look out at nothing. I mean, sure, I see some of the Milky Way nearby, as well as light clusters that are the other galaxies. But I’m so far off the beaten path that the ship’s computers don’t even register any gravitational pull, and they’re tuned for the center of the Milky Way to set a universal constant for direction. Uh, simple speak, the big thing at the center of our galaxy? That’s down.

There’s some velocity. So the ship will drift for millions of years, preserved in the inky cold of this wonderful frontier, until it get’s close enough to, something, so it's pulled in and crashes or burns. What? It’s not like anyone will find it anytime soon.

I suppose you can’t really see the futility of existence yet. Me? My days are numbered, and I’ve already run out of gum.

Ping.

Pong.

Where was I? Right, existence. It’s a funny thing really. Out here, with nothing to do or see, you start to question if anything was really real. Everything turns into this far off dream, the distant past of another person. Here and now, its just you, and the void. Well, that, and the flimsy metal contraption keeping you safe from said void, but even that’s debatable.

Isolation was the worst punishment we were able to come up with for criminals, after all.

Eh. I’m waiting my time. You don’t want to hear a condemned man ramble on, or maybe you do, you sicko, you. You want stories, you want to hear the high flying adventures of traveling this wasteland. Tales of explorations and intrigue. Maybe even a little romance mixed in.

There really aren’t any. Space is, well, space. Big, and-

Ping.

-empty, and boring. As for the people, well, the Captain Buck and his intrepid crew all work for the military. The only civilians that do this are either, criminals, insane, or desperate. And any combination of those.

So there it is. The reality of this grand fantasy you’ve always held in your head-

Ping.

-laid bare at your very feet. Not very palatable, huh? Makes me think of that paste you get fed out here. Chemically infused with all the calories and nutrients you need to live. Tastes like they blended cardboard and water into sludge and called it food.

That’s not even the worst example. There was this one time... one time that...

Ping.

Ah, thank you Ping. There was this one time a station had a rodent infestation. Nasty stuff. You know what they did with the buggers? (Not the Editor, Editor’s Note: Not actual bugs.) Used them for meat! You had rodent steaks, and ground rodent. Didn’t stay at that station for long.

Oh, look. A red light is blinking. Must be time to party.

Ping.

Ping agrees it’s time to party. Where’d I put the people to party with? Oh yeah. They’re all back in inhabited space. C’est la vie.

Vie la c’est? Why are you asking me?

You know? I’ve done all the talking up until now. I think it’s your turn to tell me a little abut yourselves.

Yeah?

Really?

No.

Ping.

Ping doesn’t believe it either. He’s even making this slight hissing noise. Just like a cat. Maybe Ping’s a cat that goes ping? Or a ping that cats?

Having trouble understanding that one? Do what I do. Don’t.

Stuff doesn’t have to make sense. I mean, does it make sense for some random guy to be stuck literally nowhere? No, it doesn’t. He should be back home wondering what dinner will consist of. Well, truthfully, I’d probably be stuck with the nutrient paste still.

Ping.

I agree Ping, that paste is a travesty and insult to the human palate. At least include something that gives it some flavor. Maybe lemon juice? And some water, and sugar. You know what? Take the nutrient paste out all together and give us lemon, water, and sugar. We had a name for that back home.... I can’t seem to...

Ping.

Oh, right! Lemonade. Life’s gift you didn’t ask for. Well, would you look at that? There some ice dust outside. Almost like some rock had a gas bubble inside and it leaked. There you have it folks, the lemonade for today; ice dust!

You know, I’m getting kinda sleepy and light headed. I have been up for quite some time now. Why? Well, you and Ping are such good listeners, I couldn’t just walk away. No, it was my responsibility to entertain at the expense of my own health. I hope I did a good job, I don’t like to disappoint people. Only peaches disappoint, you expect them to be all flavorful, and they tase like the fruit has been soaking in water.

Well, guess this is it for now. Nature calls, and I don’t think I’ll be awake for much longer without really going off my rocker.

Ping.

Yeah, good night Ping.

Ping.

...

Ping.

nowadays i dont
really feel alive
just blending day to day
fuck around to pass the time
sitting on my hands, eating
snacks watching tv.
waiting for a change
pray an angel comes to lift me
maybe this is penance
yeah, the cost of all the sinning
all pointing to the night
when you did some heavy drinking.
bottle to your lips
knife at the wrist
her essence in your head
you can't recall her voice
but you recant the promises

chant them like a cultist
while you watch the silver dance
and your press to the beat
of your alcoholic pants
sweat fills your hair
haze fills the mind
love, pain, and anger
made your soul unwind
now it lays there,
exposed to open air
only to be trampled on
by those who should be there
in a spot of rage you
threw the knife into the floor
rose from your chair and
opened up the closet door
only to write in red upon the white
"STOP ME" in bold, what foresight

you whip your head around
try to shake the thoughts out
you can't recall her face,
now an obscure grey cloud
that radiates depression
makes you feel alone
spent years with a person
they can't once pick up the phone
spent years with a person
yet you can't recall her voice
we said we loved us to death
i'm finding truth in that choice
you've suffered spring and summer
now you're heading for the fall
you look about your broken mind
god-damn it all
you thought you'd built a home
you were in it for the haul
appalled it's all dissolved
your heart it calls for more resolve
you miss her love, your home, your dog
you drove your car into a wall.

.

.

.

.

bones fractured top to bottom
are the mind manifest
codeine sponsored dreams of
laying your head on her chest
instead you feel a tightness on your neck
and this ringing in your head
you've got a neck brace, your mom's here,
you're in a hospital bed.
what's your name, and your birthday,
perfect sir, where are you at?
another nurse coming through
to make sure my mind is still intact
rib cracked, pelvic fracture, hooked
up to an iv and a piss-bag
you wore a seat belt and dont know
if that's something to thank god for
or be pissed at
isn't this the kind of story
that you wanted after all?
just to be so down and broken
hope someone saved you from the fall
have someone to hold you, stroke your hair
and tell you you can beat it all
needing that, having a lack thereof
you drove your car into a wall.

I've finally finished writing something. It's been about four years since I actually finished something nicely.

I'm entering the editing phase, which generally takes longer... But I'm a bit excited.

Hopefully this is an acceptable thing to talk about, and I'm going about things the right way.

So... To spin off into discussion, here's two things:

A part of the story:

The ground rose up and struck Raul in the face.

He blinked, stumbling backwards, seeing his master standing nearby.

The old man was glaring, his hands clutched around a brightly coloured stone.

Raul opened his mouth to question, but the old man was whisked away to a distance hillside, and the boy found himself tumbling head over heals backwards down a hillside.

He scrambled onto his knees, staring as he found himself on the shore of the lighthouse.

His master placed a solid hand on his shoulder, and muttered gibberish.

Raul glanced up, but found himself staring at the light of the lighthouse.

Spinning.

A bright light, round and round.

Lightning struck him, and Raul screamed, stumbling backwards.

The rod lay in front of him.

He tore his gaze away with effort, and saw his master, hands outstretched, the stone of red, gold and silver floating between them.

Almost as astonishing, the stone was clean.

A hammer hit him between the eyes.

Raul found himself stumbling behind his father, watching as the old man struck stone, separated it, revealing the river of solid copper within it.

"Boy!"

I'm hoping I've got the grammar at least semi-right. My illness means I can forget words, or my brain can replace words at random with others that it thinks are related.

Any guidance or critique is welcome. (I'd give a bigger quote... But this is probably more than enough to discuss.)

The build script I'm using:

#!/bin/sh

set -e

if [ -z "$1" ]; then
  echo 'Please provide an output file name.' >&2
  exit 1
fi

tmp=$(mktemp)

echo 'Building...'

cat title.txt > "$tmp"
echo '' >> "$tmp"
cat LICENSE.md >> "$tmp"
echo '' >> "$tmp"
cat Prologue.md >> "$tmp"

for file in 0*.md; do
  echo '' >> "$tmp"
  cat "$file" >> "$tmp"
done

for file in 1*.md; do
  echo '' >> "$tmp"
  cat "$file" >> "$tmp"
done

echo 'Converting...'

pandoc --toc "$tmp" -o "$1" 2>/dev/null

rm "$tmp"

echo 'Done'

title.txt is basically just YAML markup for pandoc. The other files should be fairly obvious.

I'm silencing pandoc's output, because I make use of a self-reference to add comments to the Markdown, that get killed by the parser and never make it to the output:

[//]: # (This is a Markdown comment. Isn't that cool?)

However, as all the references point to themselves, pandoc warns.

I'm using pandoc this time around, because it produces fairly clean files. I've used GitBook and Calibre in the past, and though the ebooks they produce work and look okay, the amount of crazy markup they produce means the books lag on some ereaders.

However, that does make a lot of back and forth. Building, checking output, rebuilding, etc.

I flew to Ely, Minnesota in August with my friend Jared.

Hope the images work, I'll rehost if they don't.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2631.jpg

Me left, Jared right.

He takes a regular trip with his family into the Boundary Waters (BWCA) and my in-laws have a cabin on a BWCA lake. In order to avoid driving and to get some flying hours in, we took this tiny plane from Columbus, OH to Ely, MN.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/flight-path.jpg

Red line is actual GPS route. Blue line is simply airport-to-airport route.

We were trying to avoid flying over large bodies of water because when you’re in a single engine airplane, you don’t have a lot of options besides swimming if your engine goes out (ours didn’t).

We meant to get fuel after Chicago but the day we were flying we had 30 (thirty!!!!) knot headwinds even low to the ground. It was stupidly impressive bad luck. So we had to stop in Gary, IN to grab some gas before heading up again.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2647.jpg

Gary, IN

After grabbing gas, we were off. We saw the Blue Angels parked on the north ramp of the airport as we were taking off but it was too late to grab a picture. Turned out they had a show over the Navy Pier in Chicago a little later in the morning.

We know because we flew through the TFR (before it activated).

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2657-e1506799924440.jpg

Chicago, IL

We thought we only had about 15 minutes to get through the TFR which we thought we could barely make, but also thought if we’re going to get intercepted, would be pretty cool to get intercepted by the Blue Angels, then realized the time change to Central and that we had an extra hour still before the TFR went active. The Blue Angels did not intercept us.

Next we flew up towards Duluth. Still staying low because of the ridiculous headwinds, but that meant things were also super bumpy.

Jared puked for the first time ever in a small airplane. I always have a puke bag in the plane for emergencies but never expected to use it with two pilots on board.

So Jared pukes. The turbulence and motion wasn’t getting to me until then, but that puke-bile smell? Oh yeah. I could feel it.

The problem was that I only had one puke bag in the cockpit. If I had to hurl, it was going to be in the same bag Jared used earlier. Gross.

Furthermore, Jared told me point blank that if I hurled, he was going to need the bag back to go again.

Faced with the prospect of sharing a puke-bag and passing it back and forth, we decided to land and take a 45 minute break.

We felt better after taking off (and getting the back-up puke bag from the baggage compartment).

Anyway, here’s Duluth:

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2675-e1506800330868.jpg

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_3147.jpg

After turning the corner at Duluth, we went along Minnesota’s North Shore to drop Jared off in Grand Marais.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2689-e1506800486520.jpg

Two-Harbors on the North Shore of Minnesota

Then finally, with the plane to myself, I flew over the Boundary Waters due west to land in Ely, MN.

http://photosoverohio.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/IMG_2716.jpg

Somewhere in the BWCA between Grand Marais and Ely. Endless untouched nature.

Was a fun trip. 9.3 hours in the plane due to the ridiculous headwinds. I was super happy to get a burger on the ground.

This is just a fun little part of a story I put together a little while ago. Might go somewhere later, but probably not.

The symbols looking like: [^1] are footnote links. (Pandoc's format, a kind of extended Markdown).

Edit: It may be easy to read as rendered html

A leaf was slowly falling towards their face.

It was golden, three-tongued, and burning with fire.

Last one wasn't hyperbole.

Unfortunately.

It was all sort of their fault.

But then, everything always was.

That's why everyone called them Slag.

The trees hadn't always been on fire, but they had been on fire before.

That had been their fault too.

Being the smallest Ork in a tiny Orkin village, reporting to a tiny Orkin warlord who somehow believed he had the brass balls of a god, Slag wasn't exactly well cared for.

Their name was their job. They were an Ork, after all.

The blacksmith beat the metal, made the weapons. Tossed the slag in a pile.

Molten metal twisted and smouldered, and Slag would grab it by the handful, and toss it into a cauldron of water, and when that was full, kick it down the hill into the dumpsite.

When the dumpsite was full, Slag would summon the demon, who would demand some strange price, then vanish with the lot.

The demon's prices weren't helping their standing with the rest of the tribe.

Like today.

Slag craned their neck, looking up at the red fiery, and rather horned creature, "Say again?"

The deep earth-rumbling voice laughed, "I want you to sing! Sing like a girl! Like a tiny little human girl!"

Slag winced, "I am a girl, demon." [^1]

The creature blinked in surprise, "You? Little squelchling?"

Slag shrugged, "I'm a girl. I don't got tits... I ain't pretty. But I am."

The demon winced, "Figure out which god cursed you little girl... After you sing."

Singing? An Ork?

Orkcakes.

The demon would go, and she'd be blamed there was no room in the dump, and then the Orklord would be in her face. Again.

Then threaten to marry her to his son. Again.

She blanched.

The demon laughed, "Last chance, little orkling."

She coughed nervously, and then a squeaking voice emerged, singing a quiet rhyme she'd overheard one day.

Something about stars and diamonds. Humans were weird. [^2]

Unfortunately, her voice was less like a starlet, and more like diamonds scraping across sandglass.

The demon shreiked and disappeared back into their realm.

Without the slag.

She winced, glancing towards the village, "Orkcakes."

A hand like iron clasped her head, "Slag."

She smiled weakly up at her father, and at his one eyes staring out from a bushy grey beard. [^3]

The warrior released her and spoke gruffly, "Was that you singing, again?" [^4]

She blushed, looking down in shame, "The demon's price."

The old man groaned and reached for a whip on the wall, "Please tell me he took the slag."

"I don't lie, father." She answered. [^5]

He winced and glared at the doorway, unravelling the whip, preparing to hit the next person who came in. "Go to you room, Slag."

"It's my honour." She crossed her arms, pretending not to notice that her chest didn't show any bigger, "I want to defend it."

"Now, Slag." He growled through his tusks.

She turned and moped away into her bedroom.

She couldn't fight, all she could do was listen to the glorious blood-curling screams as the emissaries dies. [^6]

Slag picked some metal from beneath her fingernails and flung it into the wall, pinning a fly by one wing. [^7]

It wasn't fair.

She wanted a real fight.

Why did boys get all the fun?

The guts and the murder?

All she got was... Slag.

An axe blade broke through her wall briefly, before being pulled back quickly, followed by a strangled sound.

She rolled her eyes and flopped onto her straw bed, staring at the ceiling tiredly.

Humans made life look so simple.

Find a man, get pregnant, take care of the litter until you died.

Just cooking, singing and cleaning.

She licked the edge of her tusk, yawning. This was going to be another, she must get married because she's useless argument with the Orklord. Which would inevitable lead to my son is too stupid, fat and ugly to possibly get married, and then... Ew.

She didn't want the bastard.

He certainly wanted her though, all drooling and slurping.

She wanted to be a Knight. [^8]

That was it. All of it. Her only dream.

A glorious warrior, protecting the weak, hunting the monsters that pray on people in the dark. [^9]

Her sword would have a name, and glow with power when evil was near. [^10]

She would yell out it's name, and light up the dark.

Then she'd kill the bad guy, cut off his head, and ride home with it, and stake it to her wall. [^11]

[^1]: Really? Wow. Never would have guessed... But orks are always hard to apply gender to.

[^2]: Understatement. What other species looks around themselves in wonder and decides blowing stuff up is the best way to get something out of the ground?

[^3]: Stories on exactly how he lost his eye vary. Most involve a dragon, a bet, and a gallon ale. And perhaps a wet, old sock.

[^4]: Oh gods. She'd tried to sing before? Had birds died?

[^5]: Not strictly true. She did lie, but only about unimportant stuff. Like what she wanted for dinner. Or what job she wished she had. Or who she wanted to marry. Nothing big.

[^6]: It's an Orkin thing. Send some messenger to die when your upset with your opponent, and then turn up when their bloodlust was sated. Good way to not die.

[^7]: She was a practiced hand at this now. Sociopath, or bored teenager? Let the public decide! Blast her in this week's Orks magazine!

[^8]: ... Should someone tell her human knights usually hunt down orks?

[^9]: So... Hungry orks. Seriously. Someone should tell her.

[^10]: So, it would always be lit up. Because you're on Ork, girl.

[^11]: Oh geeze. Are you the hero, or the villain, Slag?

alright so much to my dismay, no, not currently day drunk (though a mimosa does not sound half bad right now!)

so in place of my standard late-night drunk poetry, have some mid-morning-havent-slept-in-36-hours-poetry.

cheers

bishop

remember wanting what i got now
didn't think it'd be a let down
guess back then i wasnt thinking sound
deadly quiet with you not around

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
now my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

like you're yoko ono and
i'm every single beatle.
warring with myself and every
general's in fetal
got my world all fucked but
i lay here with no libido
sorry if i fucked it up, i
swear i did not mean to

but at least i saw a palm tree
caught a little of the ocean breeze
heavy sand where you buried me
for the forest couldn't hear the screams.

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
think my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

no quiero recordar nada
que ella ha dicho
Como el tiempo cuando
ella me ha prometido
que nosotros siempre
quedaríamos amigos
He querido solo estar
perfecto contigo.

loved our movie, but you said
you didn't want a sequel
got my head up in the clouds
now i cannot see through
if you were perfection,
how can i trust other people
to take my hand and guide me
past all of the shit we been through

(beat.)

got me so down im
making lots of pillows
taking heavy shots and smoking
off a lot of rillos
think my mind is gone, am i okay
i cannot think so
falling down from heaven hitting
every branch like plinko

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1s2iTsjvNthl8cmgvcF7q2vUewu69mGLb?usp=sharing

It's missing a screen decal and some software tweaks, but the #MAME#Sega arcade machine is about done. I really wanted to built something that could handle a game of Street Fighter 4 as easy as it could swap to Daytona USA on Model 2 or Virtual On using Demul.

Here are the components.

1 #Thrustmaster wheel and pedals2
Six button Sanwa/IR arcade controls sets
2 8 way mini flight sticks (For Twin Stick games)
1 Ipac ultimate

I'm a first time wood worker and vinyl applicator, and have a long long list of things that I learned not to do in the future. I'm still figuring out what the best way is to run all of this gear, but so far so good. What's not evident in this photo are the 1/2 lines of plexi that live beneath the decal around the perimeter, and that are illuminated with addressable LEDs. The window in the speaker area (speaker grills are coming, still) has a Dreamcast swirl LED sequence that travels through a spiral inside as well.

**As far as hobbies go, this one had a big learning curve and required the purchase of a few tools. That said, it was totally worth it.

Dans la vie intérieure, le temps tient lieu d'espace.
(In the inner life, time takes the place of space.)
Simone Weil, La Pesanteur et la Grâce (Gravity and Grace)

Inside [the black hole's event horizon]… [what used to be a spatial
coordinate] is the time. … The singularity… is not a place in space; it
is a moment in time.
James B. Hartle, Gravity: An Introduction to Einstein's General Relativity

In my old poems I saw
the sentimental one
scenting sighs,    seeing scars
everywhere, twisting them
into words, arranging words
so they fit in a grid,
regular,    repeating.

Preoccupied, she wanted the answer
to the only question: What had made her
like this? An effect that sought the cause and
nothing else. Her city caught in a verdant
early summer day, light abounded; she
felt time had been running out silently.

How much has really changed ever since?

I now have an answer, and more.
She made me; cause, effect. Questions!
How will I be? What will I be?
What am I?

I am a tiny bit of what she wasn't:
the all-embracing space and time beyond
her self, her fear of being forgotten,
solitude unwitnessed, and pain futile.

I am not just her descendant either.
Holding her precious gift of exposed self,
I too am exposed to what I am not,
asking how much has changed, what I'm changing.

This is a new one I wrote today.

Edit: replaced one "the" with "an".

ive had this idea in the back of my head for awhile, roll with me.

sad parties.

so much emphasis on things being perfect, people being perfect, work being perfect, life being perfect. so many people caught up in social media subconsciously at battle to live a filter-perfect lifestyle.

sad parties.

a bunch of people youre close to get together at a comfortable apartment, good food, lots of drinks, lots of drugs. everyones free to indulge as they wish. all the lights go off except for a fireplace or some low-impact nightlights by an easel, and theres just a stream of sad music in the background. no words spoken unless you directly enter a conversation with someone. no forced interaction. just lots of pillows, blankets, and vibes.

really want one of these. might make it a regular thing once i head out west.

anyways, back to the reason we're all here. more sad drunk poetry<3

thank you for all those who leave the comments. i honestly wouldnt keep posting if it werent for you all giving me that little nudge of support. it means a lot.

much love.

bishop.

metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
take a double scoop, hope i dont see the morning
leaded kiss orgasm, baby send me out moaning
dropped my puppet strings, guess im not worth controlling.
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
must be in a coma, two years been a bad dream.
poor lost lamb caught up with a black sheep
just another sad white kid, rest in peace Peep.

maybe some lives werent meant for the living
maybe some dreams were meant to go missing
kinda miss the way you would scream like a banshee
kinda miss the way you would threaten to leave me
wanna go back to the days when you need me
always liked how youd cut me deep, and then heal me
if it makes you smile when i cry, then abuse me.
really wouldnt mind if you came back to use me,

cant feel good enough on the nicotine therapy
oxygen coming through airily, barely
slaps on my face were a heavenly remedy
soft pink lace was a beautiful heresy.
pain, drugs, suicidal tendencies, obscurity
wanna fade to black, tell God roll the credit scene
another funeral in the wake of our legacy
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream

(beat.)

metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
take a double scoop, hope i dont see the morning
leaded kiss orgasm, baby send me out moaning
dropped my puppet strings, guess im not worth controlling.
metal must be the best flavor of ice cream.
must be in a coma, two years been a bad dream.
poor lost lamb caught up with a black sheep
knocking back four different drugs just to get sleep

metal is the only thing i feel around me
liquor by the half cup never stops pouring
you held me down, now i feel like im falling
up to the sky, sunshine in the mourning.

With my left hand I embrace and repel.
With my right hand I create and destroy.
I stand before you, both hands free.
We remember past hopes and joy.

Listen to this moment, presence of silence.
Nothing divides and nothing draws us close.
Attention is all we exchange,
Attention in the shape of rose.

I longed for witness. Before whom? No one.
Is my heart pure? No. But she insisted.
We give; and what are we but gifts?
Gifts we forgot we'd accepted.

To doubt is to attempt holding back time,
Lifting time's illusion by illusion.
I may trust, knowing that I trust.
At times we feel with precision.

We part our ways like rose petals in wind.
We will return when time again is still,
For no more delight but to see,
With no more longing to fulfil.