!proto

Poklady

Myslím, že Twitter, a zřejmě všechny sociální sítě, porušují přirozený řád věcí. Ne proto, že mohou klamat a dovolují předstírání, napohled krásných lidí a přitom zkažených a zlých jsem už poznal spoustu. A naletěl, všechno už tu bylo. Ale naopak. Poznal jsem tu lidi, které bych nikdy neměl šanci poznat. Nemyslím, že nepotkal, myslím, že bych neslyšel jejich myšlenky, jejich pocity. Lidi, kteří nejsou schopní a ochotní se otevřít v reálném světě, ale tady ano. A to je radost. Lidé, které jsem si zamiloval pro jejich osobnost, kterou bych nikdy ani nezahlédl. Tolik lidskosti a citu, které by cizinec jako já od nich nikdy ani nemohl spatřit, natož dostat. Twitter je proud, unáší spoustu bláta, písku a obyčejného kamení. Ale dovolí odkrýt poklady, které mimo řeku zůstanou hluboko v půdě.

Hugo Simberg, The Garden of Death, 1896.

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So what better time than on Valentines Day to subject you poor followers to more oc ships with artist friends, I guess???

This one is with good artist friend and inspiration, @bulumble-bee! Her bottom-heavy barista, named Mizuki, is paired with what sorta used to be a minor char in one of my stories but now is sorta floating around in the space between actual casts? (Like so many others). His name’s Felix Vargas, and he’s a free-lance painter. While Mizuki’s Japanese, Felix is Spanish in terms of heritage and channels that culture through his hobby of cooking that he does for her often, as evidenced in the picture below. 

I had way more fun drawing that Pallea that Felix is holding than I should have. Food is really fun to draw and color, and I should do it waaaaaay more often…

I have really bad pareidolia - hearing imagined patterns in white noise. I constantly hear things that don’t exist. I sit up lots of nights, listening to these phantom sounds in my fan. 

I brought it up to my therapist yesterday, because I was hoping for some sort of ‘trick’ to ignore it and go to sleep, and you know what? Apparently, most people hear music or rhythmic, repeating phrases. Nice, gentle, calming type things. She said it’s very normal and there’s nothing to do about it, and just sit back and learn to enjoy it.

Then I informed her that I don’t hear music; I hear the screams of the damned. Shrieking, moaning, hollering, bawling… eerie screeches of agony and fear all night. The occasional voice that comes through is not… necessarily pleasant.

My therapist said - and I quote: “That’s not okay, dear.” Then she suggested that i get rid of my fan because, “you never know when you’ve accidentally opened a portal to Hell until it’s too late.” (I love my therapist, btw)

I bought a white noise machine on my way home, and now have a fan up for sale.

Anyone interested? :)