wPlace

 I've got news, but I don't feel like typing all of it out just yet. Touch and go, touch and go. 

BUT

I'll allow you to marvel at the big box o' pixel art I've been slowly piecing together over the last month, on the worldwide canvas.

Imposter Syndrome: Witchcraft Edition

Well, I did a scary thing, but before I get into those details, lemme give a little backstory.

 You might already be aware that my dad was wiccan when I was a kid. I grew up surrounded by it. He's the one who gave me his own ancient and well used copy of Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft. My first altar was a gift from him, something he carved himself. When he died 2 years ago, I was given the Baphomet statue he's had almost as long as I can remember, before my step-monsters had a chance to throw it away or pawn it or steal it, like they did with everything else he owns.

So yeah, Daddy was wiccan. He was into that not entirely child friendly version, though, old school Gardner style wicca where you get naked in the woods with your coven, so obviously I wasn't a participant. I became more generically pagan, with no real central belief or dogma...I like dirt and bugs and clean water and recycling. You know, proper hippie shit. 

Since he died, though, I've once again gone full Wicca. It just felt right, or maybe it's just my way of keeping him alive. "Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again" echos in my head like a joyous chorus. I see him in my dreams. He's still here, just not in a way I fully appreciate yet. I miss the sound of his voice, his big goofy laugh. 

The problem is, over the last 2 years, I've found no one who's serious about it. There used to be a handful of us who'd get together, but one got married, a couple moved, another was going through medical horrors, so on and so forth. Now there's just me. I'm sure others are out there, but practicing solitary or in very small groups or keeping it strictly online. I went to a very popular directory, and this entire area is empty, so unless you want to drive 2-3 hours away, there's nothing going on. 

And here is where the imposter syndrome kicks in - I created and was approved for a coven in the directory. I want this, I want this badly, but I feel like such a fraud. Like, someone's going to hit me up, expecting a group of aesthetic individuals doing instagram rituals in a dimly lit room, or perfectly timed drums and chants and movie-worthy forest clearings.....and instead, it's literally just me and maybe one or two stragglers if I'm lucky.

But I want it, anyway. 

Wish me luck.

Dead Internet is Dead

 6 months. 6 whole months I was gone from 'ze facebook. I felt healthy, I went out and rode my bike, I spent time with family, but you know what didn't happen? I don't think I socialized at all with anyone I wasn't immediately related to. 

Part of that is just because I suck at communicating, or at least, I thought I did. You try keeping up with anywhere between 5-15 people a day, sending you tiktoks and reels and shorts and not much else. Haha, what a silly guy! What a cute dog! What a goofy bug! What a stupid kid! What a horrible Karen! What a great song! 

How god damn boring are we? Is that all we do for connection, now? I send you a laugh react, which is admittedly low effort, but it's not like you went through a lot of effort, either. 

In the beginning, I used to try to force conversation. You'd send me some cat doing a thing, and I'd reply back "lol my cat does the same thing when she's hangry!" and you'd say, "mine, too!" and....that's it. 

6 months I managed to stay away, and even though no one hit me up for movie nights or to go feed the ducks or play with makeup or bake bread or whatever the fuck it is people do now, I managed to have fun. I went to those mythical "3rd Places" that supposedly don't exist anymore while everyone I know continued sharing memes and 30 second videos of shit that doesn't matter but gives you a temporary burst of dopamine.

Shot caller right here, y'all

Watching republicans assassinate a couple of politicians got me spooked, though, so I went back to see how things were going, expecting outrage, expecting action of some sort. But nope, they're all still sharing memes. They're a little more politically charged, but that lasts a few days before we're back to the same old bullshit. I shared a picture of the picnic basket I got at goodwill for $3, but in my defense, it's a really cool basket. I think I got like, 20 likes on it so it's not just me saying so. Oh, there was another school shooting? Better get on facebook/instagram/reddit and go share my Thoughts & Prayers™....or share my utter disdain for Thoughts & Prayers™. Maybe argue with somebody about it. That'll show 'em! Now, let's go look at my Shein haul! ™

I don't wanna be part of this anymore. This is some for real bullshit. Like, I'm using your fucking app so you can sell my information, train your AI, track my every move, listen in on my conversations so that if I say out loud "Gee I really need to get some XYZ next time I'm at BigBoxStore" I'll be sure to get 50,000 ads for XYZ and BigBoxStore[dot]Com. 

Fuck this shit.

bye.

My Shitty Reading List: House of Night

 Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's breathe deep and fucking get this over with.

So. Remember that time I reviewed Twilight? That's going to feel like Shakespeare compared to this hot garbage. And just like Twilight, this is yet another lovely gift from my daughter, during her younger vampire days. Except this is so, so so so so so much worse, because this time, they're in vampire, excuse me, VAMPYRE boarding school, and all these vampYres worship the goddess Nyx and practice rituals that seem awfully similar to Wiccan and generic pagan practices.

So that's kinda cool, I guess? At least, it could have been. I kinda got over the supernatural boarding school thing with the whole Harry Potter craze, but I'm all about goddess worship so I was willing to give it a go.

But good fucking gods, this shit isn't worth the paper it's printed on. Those poor trees, whose lives were sacrificed to create this garbage, would have been better used as cheap porta-potty toilet paper.

Zoey Montgomery is totally not like other girls. She likes Bram Stoker and Count Chocula cereal, and her grandma's a Cherokee Princess Medicine Woman. She eats spaghetti with garlic (GASP) with this gay vampYre boy who isn't a silly twink like all those other silly twink gays, and he uses big words like sycophant and hubris because he's very smart. Zoey changes her last name to Redbird because she's Cherokee with high cheekbones and the goddess Nyx hand picks her to be the chosen one. There's some blonde bully who's also the sluttiest slut to ever slut it up, and the slut's boyfriend is totally in love with Zoey. Because, you know, Zoey isn't like other girls. Like when Zoey decides to wear eyeliner on her first day of vampYre school, quote -

"Not heavily like those loser girls who think that plastering on black eyeliner makes them look cool, Yeah, right. They look like scary raccoons."

And you should know, goddess Nyx haaaaates fat, ugly, and/or disabled people and kills them in these books. Zoey and her roommate are discussing their blood free diet in chapter 10, and if you get fat or sick, your body rejects the vampYre stuff and you die. This is important to the plot, as an ugly, chubby, ginger loser kid named Elliott dies later. Another quote -

"Everyone, and I do mean everyone, except Elliott was attractive. He definitely didn't belong."  In reference to him being the "refrigerator" for their fancy full moon ritual. Then he dies a couple of chapters later from terminal fat ginger ugliness.

The thing is, the plot could almost work. Pagan vampires? Could be cool. But I don't need the onslaught of parentheses at the end of every internal monologue to remind me of what a totally gay guy Damien is (yes he's gay, but like, get over it!) No, that's not me emphasizing the point. That's exactly how this shit is written. I don't need to be constantly reminded that the ugly, fat, doomed ginger kid is, like, a total loser! I don't need to know the depths of Zoey's very deep distain for goth kids, emo kids, excessively gh3y gay kids, sluts, hos, blondes, fatties, cripples, girls who wear too much makeup, short guys or the general list of failed human beings on her shitlist. She was chosen by Nyx, so it's okay! 

I have 5 of these fucking books. I think I made it through the 3rd one, and anti-slut Zoey is slutting it up with....I don't remember, I think 4 different dudes, cheating on every single one of them with each other, in a classic Pot Meets Kettle move. But it's different, because Zoey is speshul and diffrint.

Don't fucking read these. Go read Marmaduke comics. Go read r/AmITheAsshole. Go read Doctor Bronner's Pure Castile soap bottles while you're on the toilet. Go read literally anything else. 

Actually, you know what? I take that back. You should definitely read these. Not because you'll like them, but because it's just so shockingly bad. You know the Steve Buscemi "How do you do, fellow kids?" meme? That's it. That's the vibe. Your very hip grandma wrote this because she understands kids today. She speaks their language and decided to murder innocent trees to prove it. 

Go on. Read them. Do it. You'll absolutely regret it but at least it's fun to talk about later.

Holy Fucking Shit...Is It Already MAY?!?

 Dude. Time flies when you go on a mad deleting frenzy. I got rid of facebook, stopped using instagram, don't bother with tiktok...I still occasionally fux with snapchat but not very often. I also deleted like 20 pages of blog so that was fun. 

I've found all new ways of entertaining myself, which turns out to be the same exact way people used to entertain themselves, way back in the olden days. Before Big Corporate Internet ruined us. 

  I mean, look at this shit. I've been painting teeny tiny refrigerator magnets. Not very well, mind you, but holy hell, i feel so accomplished.  So far I've got Hufflepuff House from Harry Potter, my favorite scene from the Last Unicorn where Molly Grue forgives the unicorn, Vessel's mask from Sleep Token, Sailor moon except without eyes because my paintbrushes kinda suck for detailed work, My favorite album from Death Cab for Cutie, and Amaterasu from the PS2 game Okami. 

Pretty fucking adequate, if you ask me. Definitely better than the stick figure blobs I originally imagined.  they're only like 2 inches big so it's a bit difficult to cram all that color into such a tiny space without ripping out an appropriate amount of hair, but overall I'm pretty proud of myself.

What else is there? I've been going outside more. Believe it or not, there are some pretty interesting things outside. I know, I know, I was shocked when I found out, too. But, here, let me show you:

CHECK OUT THIS OLD ASS GRAVE THAT'S WRAPPED UP IN THE ROOTS OF THIS MAGNIFICENT MAGNOLIA TREE!

I love this for whoever was buried here. The engraving on the headstone is long gone, but to be immortalized in the roots of a tree...idk, I love the whole idea of it. 

But if that's not good enough for you, lets see what else I've found out there:

 

This. Janie throws these proper AF tea parties, and being English makes her kind of an expert, in my humblest of opinions. We all wore tiaras, dressed up all fancy, and I think I had something like 6 cups of Earl Grey. I have Earl Grey at home, but it just tastes better when you're being stuffed with all of Janie's magnificent baked goods and laughing with a bunch of ladies you don't know and may never meet again. 

And the best part? It was Ostara, which....I don't know how many of these people knew this, but we were celebrating the return of spring, the return of warmth and light and all the green things and furry things and crawling beautiful things and honestly, does it get any better than that? But in case that isn't enough:

Turtles. Need I say more?

And I suppose that's it for now. I have much more to share, butterflies and flowers and magick and bicycles and cottages and stuff, but I'll wait until tomorrow or next week or next month.

K luh yew bai. 

Lessons for 2023

 Holy shit, it's been a while. I didn't feel like writing. I didn't feel like doing a lot of things because after dad died, I learned just how vile and gross people can get when they think they've got something to gain.

My very first lesson came within just an hour after dad died. The step family had crowded the hospital room, and my dad's body was being jostled around by all the activity. My stepmother, crying, remarked on how it looked like he was still breathing, moving, that it just looked like he was sleeping. And honestly, I'd had the same thought, I just wasn't in a place where I could really say it out loud because I could hardly even fathom the idea that he was actually dead, not when his hand was still so warm in mine. 

This cow cousin in the room, whom we will name Bertha here, shook my stepmother and aggressively got in her face, shouting "HE AIN'T BREATHING, BUNNY, HE'S DEAD. LOOK AT HIM, HE'S DEAD, GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD."

I was tempted to let Bertha know right then and there, that her creepy, good-christian-man of a husband, had been soliciting every single one of her female relatives (and step relatives) for years, and that her entire family knew this and had been keeping it from her, but I decided that she fully deserves whatever herpes or chlamydia he eventually gives to her. Imagine that. Her own family doesn't even like her enough to warn her of the predator she married. Not that they're good people, mind you, I think there's just nothing in it for them to rat him out. 

2nd lesson - while all of us bios were still reeling from losing our father, the steps took over all of my dad's accounts. I don't think money even crossed our minds in those first hours and days, and by the time the thought even occurred, they'd already taken or transferred everything. It was so bad, in fact, I had to bring proof that I, his eldest child, was his closest living relative to the funeral home just so I could get a tiny pinch of his ashes for myself, because these money grubbing leeches had all their names and phone numbers listed as next of kin....you know, for the life insurance. To this day, almost a year later, all I have left of my daddy is a teeny, tiny glass vial of ash, and a lock of hair I'd cut, the final time I ever saw him. 

3rd lesson - daddy was an electrician, and has a lot of tools....I mean, a LOT. Probably thousands of dollars worth of equipment. He's also got a house, a smoker, a boat, a camper, tons of guns...things like that. When I suggested that one of us Bios should petition probate to become administrator of his estate (since his will had conveniently disappeared) the steps threw an absolute fit. When I say fit, I mean, they actively took it as an act of war. I was told by other family that the steps, who at this point were actively in control of everything, were so enraged that they'd begun threatening to withhold anything and everything from the bios if they dared "side" with me. Literally, that was the language the steps used. Their side, or my side. Mind you, I wasn't even trying to take any of it, I just wanted to catalog it so we'd have a very clear and transparent  understanding of what was there FOR EVERYONE'S SAKE (for the record, the steps have several literal crackheads who've stolen equipment, money, and pain meds from my dad and step-mother) and I immediately became public enemy #1. Because apparently, accountability is a side and it's very, very bad. I still have recorded phone calls from the steps cussing me out for it that I've been holding onto for months, just in case they try to slander me publicly, 

4th lesson. Never trust a christian. Obviously not all christians, but certainly these christians. Dad was a lifelong wiccan, and made it known over and over and over again across several decades that he did not want some creepy preacher who did not know him delivering a sermon over his remains. That's not who my dad was. So obviously, the steps immediately employ their brother, my stepbrother, to do exactly that. The very stepbrother who had abandoned his own mother for over 20 years. And by "immediately" I mean a full 2 months later. I'd already done a small, separate ceremony for daddy because I knew they weren't the type of people to honor his last wishes, but it turns out they weren't going to do anything at all, until my younger bio eventually started planning it on her own and the stepmonsters got a bit indignant over it, because it made them look bad for chasing money and not even giving the man a proper funeral. They were the ones in possession of his ashes and literally every single thing he owned. What would the church say?  

The shittiest part about all this is that one of my other bios, also part of the born again evangelical cult, was completely okay with this, because it was worth sacrificing our family and everything daddy believed in to make sure he went to heaven. Dad used to tell me about how he couldn't even go camping or fishing with this bio anymore, because every time he did, Bio would corner him out on the boat and sob about him going to Hell. The saddest part of that for me is that bio used to call me to complain that dad never wanted to go do these things with her any more, and couldn't figure out why he was so uninterested in being emotionally manipulated. I can honestly say I expected this from the steps, but I did expect better of bio. They were kind, and gave her a necklace for her cooperation. 

So, I guess they got what they wanted. Daddy is dead, I'm too poor to challenge them in court, plus I would just prefer not to deal with any of them ever again. God is good when you have no morals, I guess, and he helps those who help themselves...like vultures circling overhead for an easy meal, while your face is buried in your hands with grief. 

But I remember you, Daddy. Not for your life insurance, not for the opportunity to convert godless  heathens over your ashes, not for how much money I could squeeze from your lifeless body. I remember you for your big goofy laugh. Beer. Rebel flags. Fishing. Baphomet. Runes. Ozzy Osbourne. Your long, glorious mullet. Your genius with all things electric. Your bits and pieces of hoarded lore. Your art. Your big, strong hands. I have everything that actually mattered. 

Animal Farm, But They're Just Idiots

I am surrounded by stupid and I'm here to tell you all about it. 

I ran into one of these recently. I wanna give details so so so fucking badly, but I run the risk of starting world war 3 so the following story is only BASED on real events. Names and details have been changed. Rebecca is a 30 something dude who pisses on toilet seats and walks away. Donkey is his wonderful little sidekick who gets super angry when you suggest Rebecca is a big boy who should maybe possibly clean up after himself when he piddles on the toilet seat because apparently, it's rude to ask him. 

Rebecca: OMG U GAIS! I GOT A COUPON FOR A PIZZA! YOU WANNA ORDER SOME PIZZA?

The Donkey: Oh wow, that's awesome because I'm actually really hungry right now! Hey, Nymphae, do you wanna go splitsies on a pizza?

Nymphae, the NotStupidOne: Gee, I don't know. What kind of piz-

Rebecca: OMG U GAIS! I ORDERED THE PIZZA WITHOUT WAITING 2 C WUT U WANTED! GIB ME MUNNIEZ!

The Donkey: Yay pizza!

Nymphae: ...

Rebecca: ONE $20 PIZZA SPLIT THREE WAYS...THAT'S ONE PLUS ONE PLUS ONE....YOU OWE ME $15 DOLL HAIRS!

The Donkey: Omg $15 is way less than $20 and this sounds like a good deal because I can't math!

Nymphae: Wait a minute, that's not right-

The Donkey: No, it's totally right because $17 is less than $20...

Nymphae: Hey, just a second ago it was $15.

Rebecca: OMG U GAIS! I 4GOT 2 GIB THEM THE COUPON! NOW THE PIZZA IS 2 MUCH AND EBYTING IS RUINT!

*unintelligible barnyard noises*

Nymphae: …

…

…

Nymphae: Jesus fucking Christ, give me the coupon and let me call them and see if we can fix this.

Nymphae: *fixes everything*

Nymphae: Okay, it'll be here in 30 minutes. $20 plus tip, we can go in $8 each and-

Rebecca: OMG U GAIS! WHAT ABOUT MAH COOOOUPON?!?

The Donkey: Yeah! What about the coupon?!?

Nymphae: Yessss, I used the coupon, and we're splitting it 3 ways so-

Rebecca: NO!!! OMG U GAIS I HAD A KEWPAWN!!

The Donkey: YEAH WHAT ABOUT THE Q-PUUUN?!?

Rebecca: I'M PAYING WITH THE QUE-PAN THAT'S MAH KOOPAHN Y R U STEELING FROM MEEEEE!

The Donkey: *unsuctioning face from Rebecca's dick like a plunger in a clogged toilet to turn and glare accusingly* omg I can't believe you're trying to steal from Rebecca!

Nymphae, the NotInsaneOne: …