Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
i dont like wintersun that much a common sentiment i hear people expressing a lot about time, particularly older people, is how subjective the passing of time is. specifically, how time moves faster dependent on how much of it you have actually experienced - the summer holidays, those lasted forever when you were a kid, right? what is 6 weeks to a 50 year old? it flies by. as you experience more time, time gets subjectively longer. the seconds remain the same, but when we have experienced more, more time becomes subjectively less. in terms of peoples subjective opinion on how long time lasts, ive read that the 'midpoint' of most peoples lives is actually roughly 20 or 21. (i dont remember where i read this but i distinctly remember it being a thing.) now this is something, right? its a thing that makes sense to a lot of people. what i never hear is people consider this taken to its logical conclusion
there must be some specific moment where we as individual organisms experience the effect of time for the first time - lets say the moment of conception, perhaps, could be that. maybe the development of the brain at some point. either way, there must be some point where we can detect time's passing for the first time. that first instant of time - we have no past experience of time. there is no subjective experience of time possible for us to measure it to. therefore that first moment must have lasted forever. i cant imagine anything other than this: we have all already been alive forever. infinite life is something we have all already experienced and discarded. lacan's 'real' and impossibility of fulfilled desire certainly chimes with my human existence - but maybe that desire is not a desire to return to a state of wholeness and oneness with the world, instead this is what desire is really driving us towards - a return to immortality.
also, other things you might want to know, is that One Hundred Years of Solitude owns, and that the brecht play i went to see had mostly notgreat acting and was poorly directed so i am blaming naney for me spending £6 on that *shakes fist*
So, in Florence, in 1478, the Medici family controlled about 96% of the city Banks. The other 4% were owned by the Salviati family and the Pope. The Pazzi Family were the rivals of the Medici clan. There were several dukes and other important people who wanted the Medici gone, as well. The Pope, the patriarchs of the pazzi and Salviati families, and several Counts, Barons, Dukes, and Earls, came together to plot against the Medici.
At the time, only two Medici were important: Guiliano and Lorenzo; the brothers who jointly ruled Florence. Guiliano was the money wizard, spending and spending money on art and parties but always ending up with more money than he spent; he had inherited an immense fortune and had added much to it. Guiliano was a jovial man, friendly and smiling, always ready to stop and have a chat with you. He was even-tempered and without malice, he'd rather throw a party with his enemies and make a public spectacle than undermine and assassinate them. Make everybody have such a good time they forget that they want you dead, and they forget how much money they're giving you. Bread and circuses.
Lorenzo was an entirely different creature than his brother. Lorenzo was introverted, withdrawn, shy, and intriguing where Guiliano was exuberant. Lorenzo was the political schemer, increasing the power of the Medici family, plotting for his enemies to fight each other, buying the loyalty of cardinals and blackmailing his rivals. He could never hold on to money, he was never resourceful with it, but his influence extended to kings.
However, if one brother was killed, the other would hole himself up behind locked doors, with guards and loyalists, and the opportunity would be lost.
Both brothers had to be killed at the same time; and that meant that they had to be at the same place, at the same time. This was difficult, as the brothers planned their schedules so that they were never in the same place at the same time.
So, in Florence, in 1478, the Medici family controlled about 96% of the city Banks. The other 4% were owned by the Salviati family and the Pope. The Pazzi Family were the rivals of the Medici clan. There were several dukes and other important people who wanted the Medici gone, as well. The Pope, the patriarchs of the pazzi and Salviati families, and several Counts, Barons, Dukes, and Earls, came together to plot against the Medici.
At the time, only two Medici were important: Guiliano and Lorenzo; the brothers who jointly ruled Florence. Guiliano was the money wizard, spending and spending money on art and parties but always ending up with more money than he spent; he had inherited an immense fortune and had added much to it. Guiliano was a jovial man, friendly and smiling, always ready to stop and have a chat with you. He was even-tempered and without malice, he'd rather throw a party with his enemies and make a public spectacle than undermine and assassinate them. Make everybody have such a good time they forget that they want you dead, and they forget how much money they're giving you. Bread and circuses.
Lorenzo was an entirely different creature than his brother. Lorenzo was introverted, withdrawn, shy, and intriguing where Guiliano was exuberant. Lorenzo was the political schemer, increasing the power of the Medici family, plotting for his enemies to fight each other, buying the loyalty of cardinals and blackmailing his rivals. He could ever hold on to money, he was never resourceful with it, but his influence extended to kings.
However, if one brother was killed, the other would hole himself up behind locked doors, with guards and loyalists, and the opportunity would be lost.
Both brothers had to be killed at the same time; and that meant that they had to be at the same place, at the same time. This was difficult, as the brothers planned their schedules so that they were never in the same place at the same time.
On Easter Sunday, Lorenzo di Medici went to the cathedral, the magnificent Duomo (I forgot the real name of the Duomo, but hey, that's what the peasants called the place), while Guiliano di Medici went to a Cathedral on the other side of Florence. Or, he would have, if he hadn't had an eye infection that forced him to be rushed to a hospital. You see, two of Guiliano's friends were Francesco di Pazzi and Bernardo di Bandini Baroncellui (and although the Medici family had exiled Bernardo's cousins and were longtime rivals of the Pazzi, Guiliano had done nothing to these two, and he wanted reconciliation, even hiring Bernardo as an accountant).
Bernardo and Francesco, convinced that their friend is missing out on Easter and isn't as sick as he think he is, help Guiliano leave the hospital and let the contagiously sick man lean on them for support (having a severe hernia that caused the fluid in parts of his spine to leak out, which made the tissue swell and become inflamed, compressing the spine even more; Guiliano had, since a few months ago, difficulty walking) as they walk down the streets to the Cathedral.
At the Duomo, before the mass began, Archbishop Francesco Salviati noticed that something was wrong. The Count of Montesecco was missing. Montesecco's role is to kill Lorenzo di Medici, so where is he? And who are those two priests walking up to me with knives?
I have spent the entire day cleaning my room because we have a house showing tomorrow. I have never been both more thoroughly aware and more thoroughly ashamed of the squalor I was quite content to live in until today. I also had to clean my closet which has been thoroughly cleaned perhaps two or three times in the six years I've lived here. In short
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Re: CGI not aging well: If there's one thing I think Pixar did right with their early films, it was using things like toys and fish and ants as their subject matter. The sort of cold, plasticy texture of ancient CGI is much more forgiving on a plastic doll than it is on a person.
Re: Freaking out about phone calls: YES. If I know I have to make a phone call I'll end up sitting around for, like, a full day dreading having to do it. Something about it makes me anxious as fuck, and it's incredibly frustrating when other people don't understand how scary phone calls are.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I used to dread pizza night at our house, because Mother would insist that I call in the order. She said I needed the "practice".
This would inevitably turn into an argument because I would be like, you know, why can't you do it? But then she'd pull the "if you don't order it we can't have pizza card", which was a dick move because then my siblings would get mad at me and I'd end up having to make the phone call anyway to make everyone leave me alone.
Just thinking about this makes me want to break things
Comments
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
my thoughts on TIME
i dont like wintersun that much a common sentiment i hear people expressing a lot about time, particularly older people, is how subjective the passing of time is. specifically, how time moves faster dependent on how much of it you have actually experienced - the summer holidays, those lasted forever when you were a kid, right? what is 6 weeks to a 50 year old? it flies by. as you experience more time, time gets subjectively longer. the seconds remain the same, but when we have experienced more, more time becomes subjectively less. in terms of peoples subjective opinion on how long time lasts, ive read that the 'midpoint' of most peoples lives is actually roughly 20 or 21. (i dont remember where i read this but i distinctly remember it being a thing.) now this is something, right? its a thing that makes sense to a lot of people. what i never hear is people consider this taken to its logical conclusion
there must be some specific moment where we as individual organisms experience the effect of time for the first time - lets say the moment of conception, perhaps, could be that. maybe the development of the brain at some point. either way, there must be some point where we can detect time's passing for the first time. that first instant of time - we have no past experience of time. there is no subjective experience of time possible for us to measure it to. therefore that first moment must have lasted forever. i cant imagine anything other than this: we have all already been alive forever. infinite life is something we have all already experienced and discarded. lacan's 'real' and impossibility of fulfilled desire certainly chimes with my human existence - but maybe that desire is not a desire to return to a state of wholeness and oneness with the world, instead this is what desire is really driving us towards - a return to immortality.
i promisee you im not high.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Its each elements relative abundance on the Earth
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Seriously, that CGI is not aging particularly well.
At the time, only two Medici were important: Guiliano and Lorenzo; the brothers who jointly ruled Florence. Guiliano was the money wizard, spending and spending money on art and parties but always ending up with more money than he spent; he had inherited an immense fortune and had added much to it. Guiliano was a jovial man, friendly and smiling, always ready to stop and have a chat with you. He was even-tempered and without malice, he'd rather throw a party with his enemies and make a public spectacle than undermine and assassinate them. Make everybody have such a good time they forget that they want you dead, and they forget how much money they're giving you. Bread and circuses.
Lorenzo was an entirely different creature than his brother. Lorenzo was introverted, withdrawn, shy, and intriguing where Guiliano was exuberant. Lorenzo was the political schemer, increasing the power of the Medici family, plotting for his enemies to fight each other, buying the loyalty of cardinals and blackmailing his rivals. He could never hold on to money, he was never resourceful with it, but his influence extended to kings.
However, if one brother was killed, the other would hole himself up behind locked doors, with guards and loyalists, and the opportunity would be lost.
Both brothers had to be killed at the same time; and that meant that they had to be at the same place, at the same time. This was difficult, as the brothers planned their schedules so that they were never in the same place at the same time.
-to be continued-
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
so one of my favourite drummers made a whole solo album and posted it to youtube and for some reason set it to a video of megaman 2
Bernardo and Francesco, convinced that their friend is missing out on Easter and isn't as sick as he think he is, help Guiliano leave the hospital and let the contagiously sick man lean on them for support (having a severe hernia that caused the fluid in parts of his spine to leak out, which made the tissue swell and become inflamed, compressing the spine even more; Guiliano had, since a few months ago, difficulty walking) as they walk down the streets to the Cathedral.
At the Duomo, before the mass began, Archbishop Francesco Salviati noticed that something was wrong. The Count of Montesecco was missing. Montesecco's role is to kill Lorenzo di Medici, so where is he? And who are those two priests walking up to me with knives?
-to be continued-
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Phone calls used to do the same thing to me. Can't give a reason for it; all I know is that it feels terrible.
I have spent the entire day cleaning my room because we have a house showing tomorrow. I have never been both more thoroughly aware and more thoroughly ashamed of the squalor I was quite content to live in until today. I also had to clean my closet which has been thoroughly cleaned perhaps two or three times in the six years I've lived here. In short