TV/VCR Repair

I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."

Why did 4 months of this year go by in like a week

Where am I

crying never registered to me as a manipulation tactic because crying did nothing for me as a kid. here's the thing. I was constantly crying and panicking in every situation so it was never a shock to anyone and at most annoying, especially at school. i'm curious if anyone can relate.

hi welcome to my kitchen this is my box that makes things cold and my box that makes things hot and my box that makes things wet and my box that makes things full of EM waves and my box tha

box that slowly turns bread into stale bread

sorry that you think my fictional ship is illegal. I actually consulted a fictional lawyer about it and he had a talk with a fictional cop about the fictional laws and then they both looked at me, and very seriously said "we'll allow it because it's hot."

did you know that apparently if you try to act normal the normalness doesn't come through but the acting does. and did you know apparently everyone can smell this on you like a bloodhound

not a caller not a texter but a secret third thing

don’t contact me. ever

not my circus not my monkeys but thanks to my mutuals i know some of the lore

i need everyone to shut thr fuck up about the prophecy. there are other things to do like eat stew

they call me the endurer the way i endure and endure and endure and endure and well u get it

Do you ever just cry in frustration because you feel there's something wrong with you no matter how much you try to fix it?