tsubu

Nobody teaches you the difference between cooking for yourself and cooking for someone else. You figure it out the first time when you wipe a plate's rim clean in a way you never bothered to do yourself. When you eat alone, you are the only variable: the food either works or it doesn’t, and you adjust accordingly. It’s efficient and can also be a little sad. But cooking for someone else is rarely efficient. It’s an hour long argument you are making on their behalf without asking their permission, it’s found in the prep you started yesterday, the 3rd attempt of the sauce because the 2nd was close but close is not the same as right, it’s found in the burn on your forearm you didn’t notice until you sit down and there is a particular kind of trust in accepting a meal someone made for you. You're eating their attention, their decisions, the version of you they were thinking about in a kitchen you weren’t in. So when asked which is more satisfying, eating a good meal or cooking for someone you really care about, I think it’s the wrong question. Eating is the gift, and some things can only be said with a plate sat down in front of someone, asking nothing back

And every time I've held a rose, it seems I only felt the thorns.

A mosquito that sucks blood from the testicles receives the softest slap. Think about that.

I have survived de week en i will survive de volgende week!

I just think you're really pretty. I catch myself staring sometimes, but it's not a big deal. [let me rephrase that:] Sometimes I think when God made you, there must have been some clay left on his hands. And perhaps he used it to make my eyes Because what else could explain this unbearable need to look at you? Why do they ache like they were made for one particular face? Why does every beautiful thing feel unfinished until it resembles you? Perhaps I was built for the dust that fell from your heart when you were made. And now i spend my life trying to return to the original. To you. Just once. As if seeing you could finally explain why my eyes have spent their entire existence looking for something they had never seen before.

What's reality? I don't know. When my bird was looking at my computer monitor I thought "That bird has no idea what he's looking at." And yet what does the bird do? Does he panic? No, he can't really panic, he just does the best he can. Is he able to live in a world where he's so ignorant? Well, he doesn't really have a choice. The bird is okay even though he doesn't understand the world. You're that bird looking at the monitor, and you're thinking to yourself, I can figure this out. Maybe you have some bird ideas. Maybe that's the best you can do.

Two espressos downed. The first to simply operate in this hyper productive, post capitalist hellscape. The second? Pure anarchy. Chaos. A form of rebellion. A middle finger to the status quo, each jitter radicalizing me further. "Damn that's a lot of caffeine" shut up u fascist.

Ok, fine. I'm intellectualizing and pretending that I'm feeling it so that I can keep it at a distance so I don't actually have to embody the emotion. So it just keeps sitting there and it putting off feeling it because I don't wanna deal with the discomfort that comes with that feeling, even though that's ultimately what will set it free. But my ego is trying to identify with this emotion so that I can further understand my sence of self. But actually it's constricting my sense of self. So in order for me to actually move through this, I have to feel you entirely, don't I?

Comparison is the thief of joy. Which is a lot like saying...

There is an old Japanese saying:
"Don't go on that boat if the guy that pushes guys off of the boats is on that boat.
But. Go on that boat if you're the guy that pushes guys that are pushing people off the boat."
It's a metaphor for going with your... Don't go to be... Don't go on... Don't go around things that are bad and... Unless you're the guy that is supposed to handle that
In Japan.

Why do homeless people get high
When they don't have enough money to get by?
Let me try to explain.
They get high to help ease their pain.
It also helps with the shame that they feel
Which to them is all too real.
You may think of them as a lazy slob,
But being homeless is a full-time job.
Some collect bottles and cans all night and day,
Then turn them in for their daily pay,
And then fly signs asking you,
Can you spare some change? Anything would do.
They search all day for the perfect camp spot.
Where the sprinklers don't come on or get chased by a cop.
And when they find that place they lay and weep,
Until they close their eyes and fall asleep.
So they get hight to take them to a different place
One they're not looked at in disgrace.

Unfortunately I have the same taste in scenery as mosquitoes.

It's actually very punk of you to rest in a world that profits from your exhaustion. Somewhere along the way, we were taught that rest had to earned. But the trees don't earn spring. The moon doesn't earn her phases. The horse in the field doesn't apologize for grazing. Maybe you don't have to either.

So vernehmen meinen Entschluss, es steht außer Frage, dass meine derzeitigen finanziellen Mittel von bedauerlicher Begrenztheit sind und mir somit nicht dem gewohnten Handlungsspielraum gewähren. Ich bestimme daher, dass jegliche ausgaben mit größter Zurückhaltung zu erfolgen haben, auf dass meine Mittel nicht weiter unnötig geschmälert werden.

Laws are a threat made by the dominant socioeconomic ethnic group in a given nation. It’s just the promise of violence that’s enacted, and the police are basically an occupying army, you know what I mean?
You kids wanna make some bacon?

Heisenberg, Schrödinger, and Ohm are in a car. They get pulled over. Heisenberg is driving, and the cop asks him, “Do you know how fast you were going?” No, but I know exactly where I am,” Heisenberg replies. The cop says, “You were doing 55 in a 35.” Heisenberg throws up his hands and shouts, “Great! Now I’m lost!” The cop thinks this is suspicious and orders him to pop open the trunk. He checks it out and says, “Do you now, you have a dead cat back here?” “We do now, asshole!” shouts Schrödinger. The cop moves to arrest them. Ohm resists.

Nobody teaches you the difference between cooking for yourself and cooking for someone else. You figure it out the first time when you wipe a plate's rim clean in a way you never bothered to do yourself. When you eat alone, you are the only variable: the food either works or it doesn’t, and you adjust accordingly. It’s efficient and can also be a little sad. But cooking for someone else is rarely efficient. It’s an hour long argument you are making on their behalf without asking their permission, it’s found in the prep you started yesterday, the 3rd attempt of the sauce because the 2nd was close but close is not the same as right, it’s found in the burn on your forearm you didn’t notice until you sit down and there is a particular kind of trust in accepting a meal someone made for you. You're eating their attention, their decisions, the version of you they were thinking about in a kitchen you weren’t in. So when asked which is more satisfying, eating a good meal or cooking for someone you really care about, I think it’s the wrong question. Eating is the gift, and some things can only be said with a plate sat down in front of someone, asking nothing back

And every time I've held a rose, it seems I only felt the thorns.

A mosquito that sucks blood from the testicles receives the softest slap. Think about that.

I have survived de week en i will survive de volgende week!

I don't procrastinate. I simply wait until panic improves my focus. It's a highly refined strategy I've been perfecting for years.

Miren un capacitor, todo chiquito, todo infladito 💥

New leftist hobby stack just dropped:
Cybersecurity, FPV drones, Trauma First Aid, HAM Radio, Pentesting, Chemistry, Martial Arts, Videography, Weightlifting, Marksmanship.

Instead of folding my cloth, i opened the window and watched everyone get home from work

:3 -- This cat's name is :(){:|:&};: you should type his name on your Linux's terminal

Oh I'd wrap my car around a tree to prove
That I am driving under the influence - of you.

Euch gehören die Uhren
Doch uns gehört die Zeit

If you do not pull the lever, one person will be crushed to death instantly. If you do pull the lever, the trolley will divert onto a thousand-kilometer stretch of track with out person tied down at the end of it. If as the trolley rolls down this thousand-kilometer track, a crew systematically switches out every piece of the original trolley with a replacement part, did the trolley which you diverted kill the man?

You can't say I gave up without saying I gay, so ...

You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the moon, international politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, ‘Look at that, you son of a bitch.

Mathematics is the art of giving the same name to different things.

For each photon received from the sun 20 are emitted (from earth).