Broken Promises
There's enough doom and hopelessness to go around, but I'm not inclined to roll over and submit. I'm better than that and, you know what? So are you. :–)
There's enough doom and hopelessness to go around, but I'm not inclined to roll over and submit. I'm better than that and, you know what? So are you. :–)
Viral, that's what I am
Words shifting perspective
Reason as a cancerous growth
Poison, seeping into your system
Truth, that deadliest of toxins
Operating from the shadow you cast
And taking you down, cell by cell.
So I've been like.. too busy to write for a little while, and I've been pretty out of inspiration too. River shared this prompt tho and hey, maybe it will help? And thinking about it, maybe I could use prompts to write a little too.
River's original shout out on the fedi here, and her response here.
Why did you start blogging in the first place?
I got bored and ran out of snacks?
Jkjk. I needed somewhere to post longer stuffs and a blog made sense.
What platform are you using to manage your blog, and why did you choose it?
Right now I use write.as because it does not get in my way. Originally I was using it to federate but that feature is kind of meh in the writefreely system (not really conducive to engagement) but it is still the best for my purposes.
I might swap from write.as to self-hosted as part of my “give me back all of my things” quest but like... we'll see.
Have you blogged on other platforms before?
Yes.
Oh wait was I like... supposed to elaborate?
Okay so yeah I have obv used Wordpress before, not the like... commercial version but the installed version. If posting short stories on Masto counts, I have done that too. And I have “blogged” on paper too. I know how Tumblr works but I refuse to confirm or deny if I have ver used it.
How do you write your posts?
I dunno, it depends. It can be anything from a scrap paper or a notebook and a pen to a text editor to Standard Notes to actually using a word doc to just like.. writing it directly into the system. Whether I revise is really up to the thing I wrote... sometimes things are ready right off, sometimes I need time to tweak them.
When do you feel most inspired to write?
When I have free time and when my emotions are high, whatever they are. Or, sometimes... I just get a fully formed story and I HAVE to write it, it is not about inspiration so much as it is about something that WANTS to be read. So I am just the medium, I guess.
So get my emotions high?
Do you normally publish immediately after writing, or do you let it simmer?
It really depends. Like... for poetry, I might spend some time tweaking it the same day, but most of my poetry is fueled by the moment so if I wait to write it, I lose the heart of it. So those are pretty much written while the emotions are fresh.
For stories, they are not always shared. Throwaway stuff I do not mind sharing as-is. For 'important' things, I let them sit so I can work on getting the wrong parts closer to correct. Like... those things that want to be read HAVE to be correct. And sometimes I do not know what is wrong, so I have to wait to understand.
For spicy stories, it is usually a few days. I try to make the interactions feel right, feel real, so I spend time making sure the interactions are correct. And I mean to be real I need at least a simmer of ...well, you know... to make it work. Writing for alternate me is easy, writing for other people takes a lot more work because I'm very much into making sure I portray them correctly (and yes, there is sometimes field research involved.)
What’s your favourite post on your blog?
Probably my Masks poem, that was one that just needed writing. And my favorite story, well, I have not posted it yet bc it is not right.
Any future plans for the blog?
Contemplating splitting off some stuffs, we shall see.
Who will participate next?
Whoever wants to! So probs no one.
I tell people that we must not stoop to the level of those soulless monsters we fight. I advise diplomacy. I say that we must be better, I…
...I doubt they know how fucking hard it is for me to tamp down my rage… no, my fury. How hard it is to resist just saying “fuck it, let’s burn it all down.” How easy it would be to cede control, to let the chaotic insanity inside me loose. How very, very tempting it is in the face of everything.
I say “we can’t solve our problems with murder” but you know what, I don’t always believe it when I say it. I say it because… someone, one of us, has to remind all of us that we strive to be better than those we fight. That we have to be better to build something better.
But oh my fucking gods, how tempting it is to take the easy way out.
Knowing what I know being able to do what I do… it doesn’t make it easier. That smarmy, self-important tyrant speaking to you as if you were a child, mocking you for what you are, and you all the while knowing that he only lives because you’re a paragon of restraint, you feeling your fingernails piercing your palms because you’re being so fucking good… trying your hardest to set an example, to live your ideals… and really, deep down, wanting to watch him burn for what he’s done… yeah. I don’t even know what I was saying. Restraint. I hate it sometimes.
I doubt my friends, my family realizes how I struggle. Oh, but they’d look at me with horror, I think. “Silly, comically irritated Diotima, no… she would never,” but yeah I would, I could… I just… don’t.
Not because I don’t want to… but because I want to be better than I am.
Most people have encountered something weird, unexplained, or just plain off. But they do their damned best to pretend they haven’t. ‘I must be remembering it wrong,’ they say. ‘It was probably nothing,’ they say. Or most commonly, I think, they just suppress the memory and move on with life, convincing themselves that this reality we live in is a concrete fortress, not a patchwork, moth-eaten quilt of faith. Faith in science, faith in consensus… faith masquerading as truth.
Not worthy, I think The books on my shelf unopened Wondering at the pretension That I could do anything but fail
I'm guessing that at least a few of my fedi followers are wondering I've switched instances yet again. In the simplest terms:
It wasn't heroism
When I wasn't afraid to die
Knowing in my heart
That few would truly miss me
Nor was it heroism
When, despairing and lost
I sought out danger
Disappointed I survived
I'm not a hero, I'm just
Incapable of standing idle
Raging, at petty tyrants
Waiting for the moment to act
But at least now
Instead of apathy and self-destruction
I fight with hope in my heart
And fury in my soul.
It needs some work, friend
The climate control is broke
Garden disarrayed