I do not like slow people. They retarded as hell. I like fast people. People who make split decision. People who don't even bother thinking. They just do. I like those people. Keep doing what you're doing. I'd like to see the consequences so badly.
Remember Street Writer happened a few months ago? Writing tournament with a knock-out system? Now get ready for Another one. But before I explain any further. I want to congratulate @Paul_Tromba for winning the Street Writer tournament. I have yet to congratulate him, hehe. So what is this...
I don't understand why people get surprised when their aging (grand)parents hold racist views. When the era where you lived your initial 50 years in saw "cornpop" as an acceptable term to call the melanin-induced, you'd be a bit fucked in the head too.
i have this fascination with mundane conversation. talks that start out of spontaneity and end on an inconclusive note. the topic could be anything; from alien abduction priorities to fruit-based pies. i find that these sorts of talks open interesting windows to an aspect of a certain person.
I've been terrified of excitement as of late. I'm scared of the empty hangover that comes after it. I'm scared. I'm scaring myself now. More than anything, I'm annoyed. Angry at myself. Old me would tell new me to man the fuck up. I'm gonna listen to old me. I'm manning the fuck up. Deny the feelings. Live to see the sun again, no matter how fucked up I get.
My chrome tabs consists of 3d Sketchfab models, a half dozen articles about obscure niche games I like, a few Rule34 tabs, and a hundred other Google searches pertaining to specific 6-digit postcodes primarily beginning with the numbers 2 and 3.
I'm losing my poison as of late. I don't feel as vindictive as I have before, which should be a good thing, but it's not being replaced by anything. I feel like I should be happy from this, but whenever I look at something that'll make the me from 6 months ago recoil in disgust I simply feel nothing.
That emptiness is scaring me, man. I'm neither getting happier nor sadder. It's just... a blank slate.
Since mid-May, I've spent a significant amount of time locked in my room working on this comic. The original script was to be seven pages long but after page 12 it spiralled out of control; the end product's now 22 pages in total. The process began with a script (for dialogue only) and...
biggest emotion i had since last month had been apathy. i can't seem to bring myself to care allat much, and even if i do it's mostly done behind a veil of respect for others. im kinda afraid bros. i don't wanna get hit with some gay ass mental diagnosis.
im focusing on my craft as of now. hopefully that'll lead me to the light.
Be real funny if all this time the Scientologists were actually correct and Ron actually takes all his believers on a sick ass spaceship while we get our backs blown by anus eater extraterrestrials.
My new niche kink is a mother-daughter pair with the same H-cup breast size, insinuating that the mother had smaller cups when she was her daughter's age and implying that the daughter will further surpass her mother when she grows.
It's come to the point where if a new movie turns out to be actually good, I pray to the good heavens above that it DOESN'T get a sequel in the foreseeable future.