Tap for autocannibalism, I guess
tanisnikana
joined 1 year ago
“The Savage Mouth” by Komatsu Sakyou, which involves
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A man eating himself in a locked hotel room and relishing every bite. Very body horror, much terrifying, cops rule it a homicide
Or “Cogwheels” by Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, which
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ends abruptly with the author’s real-world suicide. Story is the thinnest veneer of fiction, and at some point I think he just stopped writing a story and was trying therapy on a page, then gave the fuck up on everything.
I started out as a quizmaster, telling quiz for a night a week. I’d open my show with a new 45-second bit each week, built audience numbers over time.
Then I realized I’d been doing this for years, and was an incredibly prolific comic! I had enough material I could just walk out onto a stage and just lengthen out my opening bits, cause I no longer had a quiz to tell that night!
“I’m a stand-up comic.”
“Ooh! Heckle me!”
“I don’t know anything about you and don’t wanna say anything mean about you. Just enjoy the moment without getting a performer to do free work for you.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Don’t have to be on all the time, let me eat my burger.”
Jason Pargin is a goddamn hero.
yeah but so's lunchables. pyrrhic victory
neatly partitioned meats and cheeses appeal to me on an aesthetic level ok mfer
ham cheese. ham cracker. cheese cracker. ham and cheese cracker. ham and cheese
could even do it like a little big mac so it's like cracker ham cheese cracker ham cheese cracker
shit there's nobody says you can't go like ham ham ham ham ham ham ham ham. great big ol hampuck just for me.
Yup, there’s three rules about food:
- Don’t eat what will kill you.
- Eat stuff that tastes good.
- Eat stuff that’s good for you.
As long as you never break rule one and only occasionally break rules 2 and 3, you’ll have a good time.
One time a girl invited me to sleep with her, and I looked at her filthy pillowcases and bullshitted my way into sleeping on her couch, after countering her insistence with the extreme option of “if you’re not gonna let me sleep on your couch, I’m going home.”
I thought she literally meant actual sleep, and what she wanted was sex.
I slept on her couch and she sobbed softly through a closed door.
I found out about a decade later, from a mutual friend, that girl had the biggest hots for me and was gonna stop at nothing to fuck me.
Well, she was stopped by my obliviousness.
I was ace and sex-repulsed even back then, so even if I had figured her out, I prolly would have had a small panic attack and tried to go home.
Yup, I mostly just assume everyone except my wife doesn’t really want anything to do with me and that I’m probably a giant creep to everyone else, so I don’t make eye contact and I try my best to ignore hints lest I get them wrong.
The hilarious part of all this is that I’m asexual and sex-repulsed, and I’m one of the least creepy and perverted people on the planet, but try telling my subconscious that.
I even check in with my wife sometimes and ask her if she still loves me. She does.
Years.
183
Also I mentioned my wife in my solution-unneeded rant post and figured you all needed to see her cause she's pretty.
(lemmy.world)
We saw The Beths opening for Alvvays last night and it was amazing.
Hokay, so.
I’m on HRT and have been for a decade and change. This is real cool, except how basically every interaction with cisgenderedists gets me misgendered, and a hearty “sir” or a flurry of “he/hims” levied my way. I mean, fuck, I can be standing there in knee-high boots, a leather skirt, and a cropped hoodie and I get misgendered as fuuuck.
“So change shit up, motherfucker.”
I do a phone job and my voice is believably feminine in both English and Japanese, which is cool, but something about my real life existence just reeks of masculinity.
Can’t really do makeup cause the structures responsible for processing my face are damaged. I can tell what emotion I’m making, but I can’t perceive enough of my face to draw well on it. Also since I’ve had two strokes, even if I could, I’d prolly do eyeliner wings like a fuckin’ gridiron player.
I got beautiful wavy blonde hair that goes down past my butt, and though I don’t have the manual dexterity to style that really well with buns and braids and such, I can at least try shit other than the basic nape-of-neck ponytail.
Also I’m flat as your average golf course: maybe two discernible bumps, and that’s fuckin’ it. Also I’m ace as fuck so if they were any bigger I’d get real self-conscious about it.
At least I got a fashion sense that makes Square Enix jealous.
I’m gonna figure shit out that works for me, either that or I’m gonna keep on tolerating the injustices of the bastards who never thought to play with the character creator.
Also I guess they want me to add a photo so here you are.
Apologies for my shitty English. It’s fuckin’ terrible.
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This was the second act of Shion Sono’s movie “Tag,” yeah?