rubydlite
*poof*...mostly
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Yes ...yes it is ..
Desultory and Impulsive
- Thread starter y=mx+b
- Start date
Yes ...yes it is ..
y=mx+b
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I suppose.
y=mx+b
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Even when it is stormy and rains.
y=mx+b
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To slide into sleep before 2am
Before I walk
I wonder
Working what works
Where wet wood wouldn't burn
Broken boundless
Buried by and by
Tinkering tightly
To touch toward
Tertiary temptation
To what wary
Woeful willing ways
Watch without
To keep a peace within
Before I walk
I wonder
Working what works
Where wet wood wouldn't burn
Broken boundless
Buried by and by
Tinkering tightly
To touch toward
Tertiary temptation
To what wary
Woeful willing ways
Watch without
To keep a peace within
y=mx+b
___________
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- Jul 1, 2003
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Each morning I wake up
And I think and feel...
This is it.
Not... This is it?
This is it. Period.
This is all I am, have, and will ever be.
No dreams
Goals attainable are meager. Wouldn't change much about my disposition
See no point in pursuing.
Joy... fleeting.
What gains are made
Physically
Emotionally
Socially
Professionally
Personally
Corrode under the acidic law of entropy.
It's always been
But has gotten significantly worse
And I think and feel...
This is it.
Not... This is it?
This is it. Period.
This is all I am, have, and will ever be.
No dreams
Goals attainable are meager. Wouldn't change much about my disposition
See no point in pursuing.
Joy... fleeting.
What gains are made
Physically
Emotionally
Socially
Professionally
Personally
Corrode under the acidic law of entropy.
It's always been
But has gotten significantly worse
y=mx+b
___________
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It's an interesting conundrum
Where those quarantined with a partner
Or with kids
Probably think.... "God... a moment alone. How great That would be."
And I'm sure it would be.
But yet... those individuals can afford the deficit.
It's much like how the wealthy can afford time to serve the poor and feel rewarded after the fact.
It may be a stretch to see a connection, but there is one inside my head.
I'm fixated on the those that have vs. those that have not
My bias is that I am amongst those that have not however I am not ignorant to the fact that we all to one degree or another are of both.
I have plenty that others are in deficit of. And for that I am fortunate.
Where those quarantined with a partner
Or with kids
Probably think.... "God... a moment alone. How great That would be."
And I'm sure it would be.
But yet... those individuals can afford the deficit.
It's much like how the wealthy can afford time to serve the poor and feel rewarded after the fact.
It may be a stretch to see a connection, but there is one inside my head.
I'm fixated on the those that have vs. those that have not
My bias is that I am amongst those that have not however I am not ignorant to the fact that we all to one degree or another are of both.
I have plenty that others are in deficit of. And for that I am fortunate.
y=mx+b
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Last edited:
y=mx+b
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Whenever I have to mount and dismount tires at work I like to pretend I'm sexy like this guy.
https://www.christies.com/img/LotImages/2008/NYR/2008_NYR_02252_0060_000().jpg
https://www.christies.com/img/LotImages/2008/NYR/2008_NYR_02252_0060_000().jpg
Wife of Bath
Personals Mod. Again
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You are sexier than that guy.
catherinewheel77
~~~шлюха~~~
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That fella looks slightly effeminate. And I’ll wager he’s got soft hands.
You’re a 180 from that.
You’re a 180 from that.
Dirt_in_the_Ground
Sporadically lucid
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And there's the big problem—this guy has never attempted to dismount a tire in his life. Who actually sat in a meeting and came up with the concept of a photo session of this guy holding a tire? Does anyone think a guy holding a tire is sexy? Don't we all just want to get out of there in 30 minutes or less?
y=mx+b
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Having exhausted the fun out of the slip'n slide she asked if she could lay in the hammock.
I said yes and watched her as she made her way towards it, turn around, and precariously try to sit down upon the swinging deceptively stable net of the hammock.
Knees bent and all but in it she yelled allowed "HOW DO I DO THIS!?!?"
"You are already doing it!" I said. "You just have to drop!"
No sooner after I said that, she let herself go and with the elated squeal of a young woman her age she fell safely cradled into the weaved netting.
Swinging with the momentum of her action she situated herself as I began to disconnect the hose of from the slip'n slide.
Taking note of being located as close as she was to the edge of the woods behind our house she asked "What if a bear gets me?"
Without pause, thought, or hesitation I found myself telling her I'd grab what stick I could find and stab out it's eyeballs.
There was a bit of pause and in that pause I realized a couple things. 1) I admitted that a bear getting her is a possibility in these here parts. 2) she's probably used to a parent quelling her fears or treating them as irrational and silly. Saying something like "a bear is not going to get you..." And 3) as irrational and silly as her fears may be, I provided her with an honest solution she could believe. To which I could see her visualizing it all take place in that pause of hers before she cheerfully said "Okay!" And sunk further into the cradling net of the hammock fully secure in the knowledge that she could trust me with her safety.
And she could.
At the cost of my own life
She could.
I said yes and watched her as she made her way towards it, turn around, and precariously try to sit down upon the swinging deceptively stable net of the hammock.
Knees bent and all but in it she yelled allowed "HOW DO I DO THIS!?!?"
"You are already doing it!" I said. "You just have to drop!"
No sooner after I said that, she let herself go and with the elated squeal of a young woman her age she fell safely cradled into the weaved netting.
Swinging with the momentum of her action she situated herself as I began to disconnect the hose of from the slip'n slide.
Taking note of being located as close as she was to the edge of the woods behind our house she asked "What if a bear gets me?"
Without pause, thought, or hesitation I found myself telling her I'd grab what stick I could find and stab out it's eyeballs.
There was a bit of pause and in that pause I realized a couple things. 1) I admitted that a bear getting her is a possibility in these here parts. 2) she's probably used to a parent quelling her fears or treating them as irrational and silly. Saying something like "a bear is not going to get you..." And 3) as irrational and silly as her fears may be, I provided her with an honest solution she could believe. To which I could see her visualizing it all take place in that pause of hers before she cheerfully said "Okay!" And sunk further into the cradling net of the hammock fully secure in the knowledge that she could trust me with her safety.
And she could.
At the cost of my own life
She could.
y=mx+b
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That is kind of you to say.
y=mx+b
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There once was a time women were into the metrosexual look which was vexing to rural males with slight bone structure. It seemed our day had arrived. But even then we could not escape the moniker of "faggot" bestowed upon us by our corn-fed, beer drinking, football playing brethren.
y=mx+b
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And there's the big problem—this guy has never attempted to dismount a tire in his life. Who actually sat in a meeting and came up with the concept of a photo session of this guy holding a tire? Does anyone think a guy holding a tire is sexy? Don't we all just want to get out of there in 30 minutes or less?
Breaking down a tire by hand is one of the more exhilarating and humbling experiences a guy can have.
When all goes accordingly you are the goddamn king of the world and the closest thing a common man will get to feeling what it's like to win an MMA title fight.
When it doesn't. You are a little bitch and everyone in the shop is watching you. Inevitably one of your friends will say "I remember my first time" and you will say "you are about remember the last time you ate solid food you fuck-twat fucking cunt" and they will laugh because they know they got to you and you will laugh as well because it's all part of the game... but part of you is also serious and they have a suspicion of such and sorta leave you alone to fight your battle. Which... You will win because fuck that tire and the fucking cocksucker fucking rim it's on.
I digress...
I remember seeing the photo in Vogue magazine way-the-fuck back in my highschool days when I used to buy it on the regular.
Mid 1990's adolescent pro-tip. Buy Vogue magazine rather than playboy etc... the photographers oft were the same. Because Vogue was off the stand they actually had to utilize skill and talent to convey what they were trying express with their images thus creating a particular kind of edge lost upon the mundane novelty of blatantly naked women... and men.
Getting me to my point.
We as workers in the field do want to just get our work done. To us it isn't sexy. Or fascinating. It just... is. Because that's what we do.
The point of the photoshoot is to capture a glimps of us. Yes it is polished and bombastic and not at all an accurate representation. But yet; much like what pornography does for everyday sex, it's a distillation of wanting and being.
Or... something like it. I don't know. I probably got more to say about the subject but I kinda lost interest and got farmer things to do now and will leave you all to fill in the gaps however you wish all on your own time.
y=mx+b
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I can't stop thinking about her.
How she took her earrings off right in front of me.
It's the stupidest thing. Something she's undoubtedly done a thousand times much without thought. And undoubtedly much without thought again last night. With me invited over to assist her with an unwanted guest. Standing in front of her. Drinking the beer she offered. Waiting to see if the guest would return or not.
The nonchalance of her action. Carrying on the conversation she was having with me as she made herself more comfortable. Watching her as she leaned slightly forward, turning her head on such away only a woman knows how to clasp the backing of the stud behind her ear with her fingers. Her hair falling. Framing her face. Silk strands against a sharp jawline. Cascading from behind the length of her neck. Pulling the stud from the lower lobe of her ear. Talking to me. Making eye contact. Listening to her. Watching her as she turned her head to repeat the process with her other ear. The closing of her eyes as she freed herself of the trappings of embellishment perceived to be necessary.
The sound of the jewelry as she set the items upon the counter between us. Her fingers slowly letting them go as her hand slid them so slightly towards me like poker chips across a blackjack table.
She stood before me. Clothed. But very much naked.
How she took her earrings off right in front of me.
It's the stupidest thing. Something she's undoubtedly done a thousand times much without thought. And undoubtedly much without thought again last night. With me invited over to assist her with an unwanted guest. Standing in front of her. Drinking the beer she offered. Waiting to see if the guest would return or not.
The nonchalance of her action. Carrying on the conversation she was having with me as she made herself more comfortable. Watching her as she leaned slightly forward, turning her head on such away only a woman knows how to clasp the backing of the stud behind her ear with her fingers. Her hair falling. Framing her face. Silk strands against a sharp jawline. Cascading from behind the length of her neck. Pulling the stud from the lower lobe of her ear. Talking to me. Making eye contact. Listening to her. Watching her as she turned her head to repeat the process with her other ear. The closing of her eyes as she freed herself of the trappings of embellishment perceived to be necessary.
The sound of the jewelry as she set the items upon the counter between us. Her fingers slowly letting them go as her hand slid them so slightly towards me like poker chips across a blackjack table.
She stood before me. Clothed. But very much naked.
y=mx+b
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I drempt one of the members of KISS was murdedered by a crazy Christian zealot woman during a PBS special.
She chased him around with a heavy spear/pole. He tried to escape. She was shrieking. I wondered why no one was doing anything, gathering everyone figured it was part of the performance.
Facing her he tripped and fell. He turned around, was beginning to get up again and that's when she ran the spear/pole up through the back of his head and out the front of his face.
I'm not a fan of KISS. At all. Have no idea why I'd dream about any of them.
It was unsettling, very graphic, and not how I wanted to be woken up.
I don't know which member of KISS it was. But I do know they were being targeted.
I think the PBS special was some kind of court hearing.
She chased him around with a heavy spear/pole. He tried to escape. She was shrieking. I wondered why no one was doing anything, gathering everyone figured it was part of the performance.
Facing her he tripped and fell. He turned around, was beginning to get up again and that's when she ran the spear/pole up through the back of his head and out the front of his face.
I'm not a fan of KISS. At all. Have no idea why I'd dream about any of them.
It was unsettling, very graphic, and not how I wanted to be woken up.
I don't know which member of KISS it was. But I do know they were being targeted.
I think the PBS special was some kind of court hearing.
y=mx+b
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What do I need?
y=mx+b
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They had wandered far from the farm
Not a town was in sight
The woods and field were a magical place full of flowers and butterflies, tall grass and foliage dripping heavy in various shades of beautiful green
The Machine took caution not to disturbed such enchanted elegance with it's footsteps. The quiet whirring of its gears and hydraulics as it moved about could not be silenced. Oddly though it was welcoming. Comforting to the otherwise peaceful environment. Much like that of fan kept on in the bedroom in spite of not being needed.
He watched her as she skipped and twirled about. So human. So innocent. A thing he thought as perfect for whatever perfect was or could be. An entity. A feeling. A curiosity never to be understood. Or held. But yet very much real.
In the distance a babbling murmur of water. Just outside this dream he felt she was directing for him. Like the kind he had back when he himself--was human.
The air was thick with humid and dandelion fluff. She chased each one as though they were tiny sprites or faeries. Laughing, giggling, casting her own enchanted spells as though to retain and defend this perfect place he allowed her to lead him.
The Machine stopped to take it all in. The aperture of it's eyes adjusting accordingly to the light reflected off all the surfaces. Algorithms ran in code to which only it understood. Zeros. Ones. Cold streams of data creating facsimiles for the very things which was before it.
"My hair!"
It was her sweet laugh which brought him back.
"Machine look-it!"
The Machine glanced down at her many yards away now.
She spun as silken strands of her hair began to rise up into the air.
She made attempts to brush it down but with each attempt more and more began to raise into the sky. She laughed and giggled caught up in the magic.
The Machine studied her. Then studied the sky. Then looked back at her. She danced about paying no attention to much of anything.
Gears churned as he lifted one arm towards the sky. More gears churned as he directed the other to the ground. He focused on her. Her face. Her smile. The soft glow of her skin.
With her final rotation; with her back to him, he fired one cable wench deep into the ground. Another shot high into the sky.
A flash of light flooded her vision from behind followed by the loudest KA-BOOM! she would ever hear.
Frightened she turned.
The Machine's arm fell dead to it's side. Heavy gauge cable came whirring down from above falling in random coils around a now lifeless hulking body.
She stood watching as he dropped unresponsive to his knees, his upper torso pitching forward in her direction.
Unable to move she stood as the shadow of the machine began falling down ontop of her until caught swift by the cable fastened to the ground.
The ground shook.
Rain started to fall.
She dropped to her knees beside where his head lay facing her.
She touched him.
AUDITORY CODE: "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
AUDITORY CODE: "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine WAKE-UP"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
SYSTEM CHECK....
SYSTEM FAILURE.
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
SYSTEM CHECK...
SYSTEM FAILURE.
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine!"
Not a town was in sight
The woods and field were a magical place full of flowers and butterflies, tall grass and foliage dripping heavy in various shades of beautiful green
The Machine took caution not to disturbed such enchanted elegance with it's footsteps. The quiet whirring of its gears and hydraulics as it moved about could not be silenced. Oddly though it was welcoming. Comforting to the otherwise peaceful environment. Much like that of fan kept on in the bedroom in spite of not being needed.
He watched her as she skipped and twirled about. So human. So innocent. A thing he thought as perfect for whatever perfect was or could be. An entity. A feeling. A curiosity never to be understood. Or held. But yet very much real.
In the distance a babbling murmur of water. Just outside this dream he felt she was directing for him. Like the kind he had back when he himself--was human.
The air was thick with humid and dandelion fluff. She chased each one as though they were tiny sprites or faeries. Laughing, giggling, casting her own enchanted spells as though to retain and defend this perfect place he allowed her to lead him.
The Machine stopped to take it all in. The aperture of it's eyes adjusting accordingly to the light reflected off all the surfaces. Algorithms ran in code to which only it understood. Zeros. Ones. Cold streams of data creating facsimiles for the very things which was before it.
"My hair!"
It was her sweet laugh which brought him back.
"Machine look-it!"
The Machine glanced down at her many yards away now.
She spun as silken strands of her hair began to rise up into the air.
She made attempts to brush it down but with each attempt more and more began to raise into the sky. She laughed and giggled caught up in the magic.
The Machine studied her. Then studied the sky. Then looked back at her. She danced about paying no attention to much of anything.
Gears churned as he lifted one arm towards the sky. More gears churned as he directed the other to the ground. He focused on her. Her face. Her smile. The soft glow of her skin.
With her final rotation; with her back to him, he fired one cable wench deep into the ground. Another shot high into the sky.
A flash of light flooded her vision from behind followed by the loudest KA-BOOM! she would ever hear.
Frightened she turned.
The Machine's arm fell dead to it's side. Heavy gauge cable came whirring down from above falling in random coils around a now lifeless hulking body.
She stood watching as he dropped unresponsive to his knees, his upper torso pitching forward in her direction.
Unable to move she stood as the shadow of the machine began falling down ontop of her until caught swift by the cable fastened to the ground.
The ground shook.
Rain started to fall.
She dropped to her knees beside where his head lay facing her.
She touched him.
AUDITORY CODE: "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
AUDITORY CODE: "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine WAKE-UP"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
SYSTEM CHECK....
SYSTEM FAILURE.
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine.....?"
CATASTROPHIC ELECTRICAL OVERLOAD
SYSTEM CHECK...
SYSTEM FAILURE.
AUDITORY CODE... "Machine!"
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