💾 Archived View for ashley.cities.yesterweb.org › gemlog › 2024-04-14-novelty.gmi captured on 2024-05-10 at 10:45:01. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
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yes, this was written at 2 in the morning too.
hi kids!!!
catharsis is a funny thing; it rarely occurs, but when it does the whole universe reboots. catharsis occurs rarely as a result of mundanity, but more often so as a result of change. novelty is a funny thing; you seek it every waking moment, but you quickly grow tolerant of it. novelty rarely occurs in a streak, and when it does, you become tolerant of novelty itself. then novelty itself must change, as it does rarely, and you may yet grow tolerant of second-order novelty. tolerance is a funny thing; it occurs as a natural consequence of repetition, and makes you seek novelty in the first place. as you climb the novelty ladder, tolerance keeps you in a cycle of recurring catharsis, which happens rarely -- at set intervals, a reminder of your depressing inability to meaningfully alter your own fate. repetition is a funny thing; it occurs often.
so lately my obsession has been HRT -- how to get it, how to overcome the plethora of logistcs challenges it poses, how other people are to be kept in the dark -- a fuzzy goal in an uncertain future, a seemingly unatainable treasure that slowly evaporates with every passing second; one which must be located and unearthed as soon as possible. I suck at goal-based planning; usually I just do things, and occasionally arrive places, more often than not accidentally -- the "way there" not necessarily less important than the goal, but also not too significant -- usually an uncertain blur that builds up to a welcome surprise. I know HRT is not a silver bullet that will magically solve all my problems, but eventuallly some part of you starts believing that. it entirely absorbs your waking consciousnesss, and all else grows dull and uninteresting. it is terrifying, really, to know that each minute passes without you having it. that's not entirely irrational of course, it IS potentially life-saving medicine, but ultimately I can't help but feel that I will grow tolerant of it, much like everything else. it has already started happening with writing. all will be consumed by repetition. all will be consumed.
then it stops. and you breathe a sigh of relief, and you revel in triumphant catharsis, and stare the abyss down in mocking defiance. and you spit on it, and piss on it, and shit on it, and kick it to the ground; then flirt with it, then dance with it through the night; and then laugh and then cry and then stab it with a knife, then drink its blood, and eat its flesh, and get high on its dying breath; and finally you're all alone, in endless dark, forever more.
death is the ultimate novelty, the final release before nothing. tolkien said it was illuvatar's gift to man, and that is no understatement. endlessness is abject terror. the night without dawn is release from tolerance. the day/night cycle on its own is simply torture. and yet we can't live without it, and must make our own novelty under the sun and moon. that's kinda what art is after all. I always wish I didn't suck at art, but maybe if that were the case I would wish otherwise; then I would have nothing to work toward. only repetition. they say life is about the journey, but sometimes the journey is as painful as the destination. only repetition.
catharsis is a funny thing; it never occurs. change is mundane. novelty occurs always, and is never catharsis. tolerance is novelty always; it's a funny thing never. repetition is a funny thing; it occurs never, always. they say repetition legitimizes, but legitimacy is as painful as repetition.
I wonder what the long term goals of humanity are. hopefully not something stupid like filling the universe with ourselves for no reason other than growth at c for its own sake. but even the more local long term fates are depressing. fortunately even those must be ended, eventually. everything becomes heat eventually. all useful work fades into noise. we are all going to be forgotten, eventually, and that is a GOOD THING. endlessness is abject terror. can you imagine living forever? don't get me wrong, I want to be immortal as much as the next girl around, but that doesn't mean I don't want to die. it only means I want to choose when and how I die. it only means I want to be given as much time as I want, and no more. them greeks had a cautionary tale about this, I think. something about shrivelling into a raisin forever? something like that, I think. endlessness is abject terror. it keeps me up at night.
...are you crying?
wow I- it's just; sorry. your tears are beautiful. I can't get enough of them. they glitter under the starlight like butterflies in a spring that doesn't exist anymore, and- uhh, sorry if this is a bit weird, but uh, may I...?
they taste heavenly, yes. it's okay. cry for me, come on, don't be shy.
oh that got a bit weird. don't you dare judge me.
crying is a funny thing; it is catharsis always. it rarely occurs but when it does, the whole universe reboots. crying occurs rarely, regardless of mundanity, or repetition. you do not grow tolerant of crying, but it occurs rarely. crying is man's greatest gift. crying is precious, and each and every tear is sacred.
take care kiddos.