if i ever wake up in the hospital with amnesia, first thing i'm gonna do is reach for some nunchucks and starting swinging them around to see if my identity included being really fucking good at nunchucks.
realistically it will just result in a lot of broken hospital equipment, but why were the nunchucks laying there in the first place?
introduction, selfie, no ec
it's me. jackdaw. you know me. YOU KNOW ME.
we have created the most decadent and sumptuous fediverse instance in existence,, for reasons. no expense has been spared.
the dark times surround us. but do you remember places? remember frivolity? remember blissful hedonism? we're keeping them safe and secure in the palace of your mind-brains.
anyway time to fuck the new instance up with selfies of me looking of me looking like a greasy bear.
how many objects do you own which have neither been mass-produced, nor made from something that was mass-produced?
every time I think of something, I realize I was wrong. handmade clay bowl? no, the clay was purified thru mechanized processes. bookshelf made from lumber milled in our sawmill? but the nails and paint came from a factory.
so far I've got: some rocks and a skunk skull. dorodangos. a small bundle of aromatic twigs from the desert. maybe this ball of handspun yarn, not sure.
what if there were a story about a girl meeting @dirt but instead of being a movie (ugh, boring) or a book (yawnsville, population me), it was a line of delicious jarred preserves with flavors like rhubarb lavender, and pear balsamic?
shh open your eyes that world is now let's make some toast.
@vestal I was almost 6’ tall by the time I was 12 so one day my dad came over with a post digger and installed a basketball hoop by the driveway, measured out the freethrow line in chalk, and said “you’re playing basketball” (I grew up in Indiana, this is normal)
hello im doing a very normal mario kart double dash speedrun. the speed is normal and so is everything else. it's here:
just remembered the time that i went to see the movie adaptation of Alone In The Dark and the girl at the ticket window accidentally gave me back $10 too much in change.
and how at first i was a little giddy because it felt like i was getting away with something, but then like 1/3rd into the movie i realized i should have been paid way more to see it.
you, crying: diana you can't just call everything "death cult" that doesn't make it true
me, pointing at the priests offering up millions to a death god: d-
alternate account for a highly experimental foray into the utmost of luxury shitposting.
it's avant garde we ain't gotta explain shit.