Excellence and batshittery, done on purpose.
Iβm Lazarus. I make art, music, poems, plays, and magic for the quiet, brilliant, broken ones. If that is you, welcome home. I adopt your kind.
[Subscribe to my email list and Iβll send you a track I donβt remember recording.]
More about me here.
Please note that, with rare exceptions, any and all names mentioned in this blog are pseudonyms except our own. We want to be able to speak freely without doxxing anyone.
Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
In person socializing, mostly, unless you’re one of about five people on a very good day.
Alongside that, we seem to be slowly losing the ability to speak aloud due to burnout and fatigue. It’s just… Not something we want to do much anymore. We would rather do shit than talk about it. Idk.
-Lazarus
Stop. Don’t make me break out the Sorcery on you.
Sincerely,
-Lazarus, aka. The Management.
In the dream, I guess we had created an ad campaign for this site and these ads and others were fuckin EVERYWHERE, guerilla marketing style.
And I have to say, I think my subconscious kinda cooked here.
Seeing as more people seem to be commenting on here and about Open Sorcery in DMs (looking at our crush, Doom Guy, who finally gets a proper nickname on here), I’m gonna include my nifty email subscription form at the bottom of this post if you wanna follow us for further chaos.
If you’re on the Fediverse, please give us a follow! You’ll be rewarded with batshit content of all kinds π
Hehe.
-Lazarus
Okay, so..
As an offering of goodwill in this hellscape trash fire, Zelda brought me a can of a THC infused seltzer beverage.
The aforementioned beverage comes from a local brewery called Eagle Park Brewing. The flavor? Mystery flavor. And boy, did that mystery deliver. The following is a detailed review of this Marvelous Mystery.
I cracked open the can and was immediately greeted by the smell of strawberry. I sipped it, and the mystery flavor did, in fact, appear to be strawberry.
The interesting thing about this THC beverage (and what sets it apart from others I’ve tried) is that I couldn’t taste the THC. Most infused beverages have a rather distinct aftertaste that would not be great for, say, mixing with sodas or syrups, but this one had a very minimal aftertaste. It was also not too sweet, but not too heavy on the seltzer flavor, either. The flavor reminded me of strawberry flavored beers I’ve tried in the past.
Also, there was a fair bit of THC in this drink (10mg THC, 15mg CBD). I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t a mite elevated right now.
It was great on its own, but if you want to get creative and make a knockout nonalcoholic cocktail, I would pair this with club soda, some mint and orange syrups, and top it all off with an orange and fresh mint as a garnish.
Top notch work, Eagle Park. I’ll be high in the sky for the next while…
-AllΔna
The world may be a dumpster fire, but our shitty downstairs neighbor is getting evicted after throwing a 45 minute plus rage fit at our property manager that I had the glorious pleasure of overhearing this day.
He’s out at the end of February π
Cheers, everyone. Justice has been served at last.
-AllΔna
If you claim something is “the natural order of things”, “how people were created”, what have you, yet it takes an entire culture of shame, self repression, and outright surveillance and policing to enforce that natural order, then maybe that “natural order” isn’t as natural as you think, is it?
Moreover, if the people who once believed in that “natural order”, who once shamed themselves, policed themselves and others, and repressed themselves stop repressing themselves and start deconditioning the decades of shame and control discover they feel better, maybe your so-called “natural order” and “way people were made” isn’t so natural after all, is it?
Apply the above wherever it applies.
Sincerely,
An Ex-Mormon Who Sees Through A LOT of The World’s Bullshit.
In all honesty, I never really think about that holiday??
My sweet Danish partner reminded me it existed today and I told him that due to my time blindness I’m likely to find myself in a situation out of a sitcom where someone who has a crush on me invites me over or something, I have no fucking clue what day it is, everyone else gets extremely upset with me, and I just end up rolling with it and they confess their love for me with flowers and chocolate and I’m like “I’m so sorry… what year is it again” π
I’ve forgotten my own birthday before. I’m not fucking kidding. I tend to forget Valentine’s Day exists especially hard because I wasn’t exactly…. Desirable until well into adulthood, and even now it’s still a mindfuck to me that people want to date me at all? So wheee. AuDHD is a helluva thing.
-AllΔna
I made my first zine today because I was bored and needed a vent. If you want a copy of your own, it’s free to download over here!
I hope you enjoyed this zine! I had a lot of fun making it.
-Castor
In all honesty, our phone is on Do Not Disturb to avoid the constant onslaught of news and we are messaging very few people to preserve spoons.
One of us (I forget who) saw a post a few days ago that talked about how a therapist was saying that a desire to build an off grid self sustaining farm and never come back to society was a manifestation of exhaustion and burnout, and whoever it was felt so called out that they almost started crying.
You don’t say that it’s a manifestation of exhaustion and fucking burnout, anonymous therapist! Society is fucking exhausting! Why do you think I rarely front around most people? They fucking exhaust me and burn me out!
I would do unholy things for an off grid, self sustaining farm if this body weren’t fucking allergic to the outdoors.
I know my body couldn’t handle the work to maintain it, let alone the lack of infrastructure, etc., and that fucking kills me. So I settle for being a housebound art gremlin in the city with hopefully half decent OpSec.
No amount of money can fix this particular yearning of ours, sadly. What’s the point of having money to buy land for a self sustaining farm if you can’t fucking work the farm without killing yourself? And what’s the point in having money for a farm even if other people you love lived on it with you if you can’t go outside eighty percent of the year to enjoy it? Even if I wanted to simply sit outside, it would hurt me too badly for most of the year than the enjoyment would be worth.
Unfortunately, we’re learning our limits, and that comes with a fair amount of grief.
Fuck. This hurts. This hurts so bad.
I’m gonna go grab a snack and nap or make art or something.
-Castor
My fucking headmate thought it was an excellent and hilarious fucking idea to schedule a neurologist appointment on the day our father died of brain cancer nine years prior and then make me handle it. At least Lazarus had the fucking foresight to get it switched to a virtual appointment several damn days ago so I didn’t have to go anywhere.
I’m never letting Mr. Batshit For Brainholes schedule anything ever again. This wasn’t fucking funny.
But at least we have that out of the way, and an EEG is scheduled for February 18. They might strobe the fuck out of our brainhole during that, so brace yourselves for utterly batshit post seizure posts from us truly. π
Fun fucking times. Thank you, Lazarus, for your excellent harm reduction work. At least you didn’t try to punk me for once.
I somehow summoned the energy (likely due to sheer irritation at River’s bullshit idea of a joke) to put clothes on and then shave my face later, so have selfies in honor of this most dubious occasion.
My left hand does whatever the fuck it wants, I guess. But at least this was a nice bit of gender euphoria today.
Once more, with my entire ass, FUCK YOU, RIVER.
-AllΔna
