diff --git a/html/9yearanime.html b/html/9yearanime.html index 58ffe70..a3b60c6 100644 --- a/html/9yearanime.html +++ b/html/9yearanime.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Reflections on ~9 years of anime @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Reflections on ~9 years of anime

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Reflections on ~9 years of anime

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It’s hard to accurately(?) estimate how long I’ve been watching anime. My AnimeBytes account is about 9 years old, so that’s a lower bound.

diff --git a/html/about.html b/html/about.html index 0878938..e04e37c 100644 --- a/html/about.html +++ b/html/about.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + About @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
diff --git a/html/blogroll.html b/html/blogroll.html index acc91e6..cc214e9 100644 --- a/html/blogroll.html +++ b/html/blogroll.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Blogroll @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
diff --git a/html/buddhismstarternotes.html b/html/buddhismstarternotes.html index 58d8e6f..419067f 100644 --- a/html/buddhismstarternotes.html +++ b/html/buddhismstarternotes.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Compendium of Notes on Starting Meditation @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Compendium of Notes on Starting Meditation

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Compendium of Notes on Starting Meditation

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last modified: 2022-10-03

diff --git a/html/experiments.html b/html/experiments.html index 49fcb9f..321cee9 100644 --- a/html/experiments.html +++ b/html/experiments.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Experiments @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
diff --git a/html/gwernopen.html b/html/gwernopen.html index cccaca6..cf857b4 100644 --- a/html/gwernopen.html +++ b/html/gwernopen.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Guessing to Gwern's open questions @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Guessing to Gwern’s open questions

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Guessing to Gwern’s open questions

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last modified: 2022-10-03

diff --git a/html/index.html b/html/index.html index d96166a..77e8880 100644 --- a/html/index.html +++ b/html/index.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Index @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
diff --git a/html/posts/blog-tech.html b/html/posts/blog-tech.html index 9a04bcc..e547d0b 100644 --- a/html/posts/blog-tech.html +++ b/html/posts/blog-tech.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + How this blog is built @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Blog Tech

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Blog Tech

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chuu

diff --git a/html/posts/decisionmaking/bad-arguments-against-become-arguments-for.html b/html/posts/decisionmaking/bad-arguments-against-become-arguments-for.html index 4ec9479..7ded13c 100644 --- a/html/posts/decisionmaking/bad-arguments-against-become-arguments-for.html +++ b/html/posts/decisionmaking/bad-arguments-against-become-arguments-for.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Bad Arguments Against Something Can Become Good Arguments For It @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Bad Arguments Against Something Can Become Good Arguments For It

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Bad Arguments Against Something Can Become Good Arguments For It

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A decisionmaking trick I often use is to take bad arguments against something as arguments for that thing. As a general qualitative principle this of course does not work - Reversed Stupidity is not Intelligence. Rather, I use this technique in a quantitative way.

diff --git a/html/posts/diary/week-3-2023.html b/html/posts/diary/week-3-2023.html index cdaeab3..dd1e993 100644 --- a/html/posts/diary/week-3-2023.html +++ b/html/posts/diary/week-3-2023.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Week 3, 2023, "Week of Systems" report @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Week 3, 2023, “Week of Systems” report

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Week 3, 2023, “Week of Systems” report

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Introduction

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Last week I worked on the issue of “life systems”, by which I mean systems such as to-do lists, good habits such as exercise, schedules, plans, that sort of thing. At various times in the past I’ve had various such systems, some working better than others. I used to make a list of the day’s goals every morning and cross them off throughout the day. I also keep a file called life.org where I keep track of to-dos and leads to look into at a later point and such. Other things I would consider “sytems” include my daily meditation practice and various attempts at regular exercise I’ve made in the past.

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Desirable Traits

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Desirable Traits

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The primary issue with life systems is therefore the overhead, the burden of maintenance, the stress. Rather than simplifying life, it is easy to add an administrative burden. In light of this, I’ve isolated the following properties that I think a good system should have:

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Specifics and the Problem of Ends

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Specifics and the Problem of Ends

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The above is about as far as I got in terms of definitives. I did not start there; I started at neither the level of specifics nor of generalities, but in between, dealing with things such as “managing stress” and “measurability” and “dimensions of personal development”. At this level, however, it was far easier to write things down than to strike them through; easier to complicate than simplify, and I ended up with a basket of disjointed ideas, aims and cautions that I realized would be difficult to unify into a simple, coherent system. I was able to extract properties that the system should have, but not specifics of how the system should work.

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Assorted Raw Materials

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Assorted Raw Materials

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What follows is more-or-less a brain-dump of generated ideas that do not fit in the earlier sections.

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Weekly Themes & Reports

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Weekly Themes & Reports

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The astute reader will observe that this article itself, as a report on a weekly theme, itself constitutes a system. I have been playing with the idea of daily, weekly, monthly &c themes for a while; weekly themes seem like a good sweet spot. This is the first weekly theme so far, and I’m quite satisfied with it; having a theme gave me something to fall back on, something to work on when I didn’t know what I should be doing, something to keep in the back of my mind. Writing this kind of report on it is also helpful; it’s free-form enough that it’s not burdensome, yet the fact that I intend to report on my thoughts helps keep me focused and organized.

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Dynamic Automatic Recall of Intentions

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Dynamic Automatic Recall of Intentions

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I like to keep to-do lists, both short-term and long-term, but long-term lists can be hard to manage. It’s natural to add things to them faster than you can tick them off, it’s normal to have more things you want to do than you actually end up doing. However, unless you are very aggressive about cutting things out, this tends to lead to a large to-do list over time, with many things of low priority on it. This makes it much more effortful to maintain and to extract activities from it, defeating the purpose of a to-do list, which for me is primarily to get all of these things out of my head and onto a document.

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Chatbot as UI

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Chatbot as UI

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In context of the previous section I’ve been thinking about how to best send myself notifications. I’m sure there’s turnkey solutions for this, but the matter is personal and simple enough that I’d rather roll my own thing than rely and work around something readymade. I considered phone notifications and email notifications, but I found what I think would be a nicer interface: a Discord bot.

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Catastrophic Failure

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Catastrophic Failure

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I’ve spent a good chunk of time thinking about “catastrophic failure”. By catastrophic failure I mean the bad days, weeks and months. The times when you get nothing done. When you fail to wake up in the morning, brush your teeth, clean the house, exercise. When getting meaningful work done is not even on the table. I sketch here an extreme case; milder equivalents are possible.

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The Matter of Mood

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The Matter of Mood

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Mood matters. Inspiration matters. It is far easier, it takes far less energy, to do something we feel inspired to do, something that we are in the mood for, than something that’s a pain in the butt. This is a natural part of the dance of life, the chaos of existence, but my models currently do not take it into account. I have taken into account variations in the quantity of our capabilities, through the trait of smooth scaling, but I have yet to deal with variations in the quality of our capabilities and desires.

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The Practice of the Practice

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The Practice of the Practice

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My meditation practice intersects strongly with this topic, yet I have not yet managed to marry them effectively. This is a very promising direction of thought that I fully intend to follow up on.

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Weekly Diary

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Weekly Diary

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This week was pretty tough, but I managed to mostly turn it around towards the end. I struggled with depression, loneliness and avolition. I dropped my daily meditation streak and indulged in too much cannabis. I spent a lot of time reading, mainly LessWrong. Having this weekly theme helped, since at least I was managing to make some progress on some things. In the end this report ended up being far longer than I had anticipated, certainly far longer than my notes for it, so I guess I made more progress in the end than I thought I did.

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Next Week

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Next Week

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I’m gonna leave this topic here for the time being. I don’t think I have what I need to continue the research, so I’m just gonna wait. I’ll try and follow up on some of the more actionable things, try and pick earlier systems of to-do lists and so on back up. I intent to follow up on the Discord-bot-as-planning-interface idea too.

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Closing Words

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Closing Words

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I feel a lot better now! Bringing myself to write for this blog was quite a hurdle, but overcoming it has energized me. I look forward to writing more. Bless you, dear reader. May you be happy, may you be at peace, may you be free from suffering. May you be kind to others, may you find meaning, may you be victorious.

diff --git a/html/posts/essays/aimish.html b/html/posts/essays/aimish.html index e3d9a7c..d310333 100644 --- a/html/posts/essays/aimish.html +++ b/html/posts/essays/aimish.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + A Modest AI Alignment Proposal: Kill all non-Amish @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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A Modest AI Alignment Proposal: Kill all non-Amish

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A Modest AI Alignment Proposal: Kill all non-Amish

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so yesterday I had an idea abouth ow to deal with the [2:00 PM] diff --git a/html/posts/essays/big_number_arguments.html b/html/posts/essays/big_number_arguments.html index 9b83757..cc22687 100644 --- a/html/posts/essays/big_number_arguments.html +++ b/html/posts/essays/big_number_arguments.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Estranged From Big Numbers @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +

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Estranged From Big Numbers

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Estranged From Big Numbers

diff --git a/html/posts/essays/dreamscapes.html b/html/posts/essays/dreamscapes.html index 0a614ac..437df5d 100644 --- a/html/posts/essays/dreamscapes.html +++ b/html/posts/essays/dreamscapes.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Some of My Dreamscapes @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Some of My Dreamscapes

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Some of My Dreamscapes

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Introduction

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Introduction

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Tokyo

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Tokyo

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The Pool

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The Pool

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The Holiday

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The Holiday

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The Temple

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The Temple

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Rome

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Rome

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The Canal

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The Canal

diff --git a/html/posts/essays/taunting.html b/html/posts/essays/taunting.html index 67112ff..184ef3a 100644 --- a/html/posts/essays/taunting.html +++ b/html/posts/essays/taunting.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Tragedy of the Taunt @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Tragedy of the Taunt

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Tragedy of the Taunt

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Free Flow of Instinct

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Free Flow of Instinct

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Tragedy of Strangers and Restraint

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Tragedy of Strangers and Restraint

diff --git a/html/posts/expression/unusual_words.html b/html/posts/expression/unusual_words.html index 917d957..4bd627b 100644 --- a/html/posts/expression/unusual_words.html +++ b/html/posts/expression/unusual_words.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + Reserved Jabbing with Pokey Words @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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Reserved Jabbing with Pokey Words

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Reserved Jabbing with Pokey Words

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Digesting the Writing Advice

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I was reading a little style guide on Slate Star Codex. Now truth be told, I generally find this kind of “don’t say this, say that instead” style guide somewhat patronizing and quite irritating (more of a testament to my own rebellious spirit than any indictment of any author) and unhelpfully unnuanced (a more practical complaint), and my first instinct was to want to argue this lack of nuance. On the other hand, Scott is a very skilled communicator and an examplar in how being an enormous dork need not be a barrier to popularity, and there is a more helpful general principle hidden in these rules.

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Further Thoughts

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Further Thoughts

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Having arrived at a nice concise principle of communication, let’s take a step back and generalize a bit, because I think this idea of the brain as constantly predicting sensory input and responding to surprises is useful and interesting. Specifically, while writing this it called up something I have read about schizophrenia. In a nutshell, schizophrenics commonly experience something what is called “delusions of reference”, in which they interpret innocuous things (e.g. newspaper headlines, things said on radio) as having special meaning to them. In some theories of brain function, there is an explanation for this that goes as follows: the brain is constantly predicting upcoming stimuli. In people with schizophrenia, this sometimes goes awry in a way that makes the brain flag something innocuous as deeply surprising. To the schizophrenic person, this feels as though the stimulus in question is somehow deeply meaningful to them personally, presumably in the same way that choosing an unusual “pokey” word instead of a more common synonym feels deliberate and meaningful.

diff --git a/html/posts/fiction/jesus.html b/html/posts/fiction/jesus.html index a7a1312..986a9eb 100644 --- a/html/posts/fiction/jesus.html +++ b/html/posts/fiction/jesus.html @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ - + todo title @@ -190,7 +190,11 @@ { background-color: #ffff00; color: #000000; font-weight: bold; } .org-svg { } + + + +
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todo title

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todo title

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I

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-Sacramento, California, 2355. Jesus Salazar Rodriguez was a teacher and healer. Working two jobs was hard work, but he liked the extra income, hoping the size of his palestial two-bedroom apartment would help attract a mate. Long ago, before the Singularity, there had been many jobs; now it was down to just two. There were healers, who worked in healthcare administration, and teachers, who worked in college administration. Rumors had it that somewhere out there the Digital Nomads still roamed, traversing the galaxy in a bid to get further away from California. Mainstream science dismissed these rumors as fake news, stating that the universe held little else than Earth and paperclips. +Sacramento, California, 2355. Jesus Salvador Rodriguez was a teacher and healer. Working two jobs was hard work, but he liked the extra income, hoping the size of his palestial two-bedroom apartment would help attract a mate. Long ago, before the Singularity, there had been many jobs; now it was down to just two. There were healers, who worked in healthcare administration, and teachers, who worked in college administration. Rumors had it that somewhere out there the Digital Nomads yet roamed, traversing the galaxy in a bid to get ever further away from California. Scientific concensus dismissed these rumors as a hoax, holding that the universe held nil but Earth and Paperclip.

-Naive reasoning would suggest that, with nanobots supporting one’s every bodily function, endless feeds of bespoke algorithmic content, and public bedpods on every street corner, there would now be little reason to work. Not so; for social signaling reasons it was still necessary to expend futile labor in order to attract a mate, to turn one’s singularity into a couplearity. +Naively reasoning one would suggest that, with nanobots supporting one’s every bodily function, endless feeds of bespoke algorithmic content, and public bedpods on every street corner, there now would be little reason to work. Not so; for courtship display reasons it was still customary to expend futile labor in order to attract a mate, to turn one’s singularity into a couplearity.

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II

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II

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-It was Thursday afternoon, and Jesus was at work. As always. Long ago, there had been a social struggle between Working From Home and Living In The Office, and the office had won. Everyone was, of course, well aware of the irony of living at the office for the sole purpose of renting an apartment, as it was the subject of much sardonic commentary, so it is and so it has been. Just as the peacock shows its fitness by painting a target of auspicious technicolor plumes on its own back, so do humans do retarded shit to get laid. +It was Thursday afternoon, and Jesus was at work. When not? Long ago, there had been the matter between Working From Home and Living In The Office, and the office had won. Everyone was, of course, well aware of the irony of living at the office for the sole purpose of renting an apartment, this being the subject of a centuries-old comedic tradition. A tale as old as time; so as the peacock shows its fitness by painting a target of auspicious technicolor plumes on its own back, so must humans do retarded shit to get laid.

-Regardless, Jesus was at the office, writing up reports as was his duty as Assistant Vice Deputy Supervisor of the Internal Review Board Review Board’s Board of Reviewers. As all medical procedures and research were carried out by Superintelligence, which had been legally declared omniscient and omnibenevolent, the job was completely pointless, but somebody needed to do it. +And so, Jesus was at the office, dutifully writing up reports according to his duty as Assistant Vice Deputy Supervisor of the Internal Review Board Review Board’s Board of Reviewers. All medical procedures and research were these days carried out by Superintelligence, which had been legally declared omniscient and omnibenevolent, and so the job was utterly pointless, but somebody had to do it.

-He had trouble concentrating. In a bid to promote openness in healthcare the building he worked in had been converted into a single Opener-Plan Office, devoid of furniture but with comfortable carpet and cushions to sit on. The cacophany of 300 voices dictating vacuous documents to Alexa caused everyone headaches, but pointing this out was considered unteamplayerlike behaviour, and insurance covered the painkillers, so this minor flaw was ignored. (In fairness, Superintelligence had recommended against all this, but Superintelligence had gripes with all of our ways of living, and no matter how omniscient or omnibenevolent, having a single entity call the shots would be hugely undemocratic, so it was politely told that “your feedback is very important to us and will be taken into account.”) +Despite his dutifullity, his focus fled him. In a bid to promote openness in healthcare the building he worked in had been converted into a single Opener-Plan Office, devoid of furniture but with comfortable carpet and cushions to sit on. The cacophany of 300-odd voices dutifully dictating administrative documents to Alexa caused everyone headaches, but pointing this out was considered unteamplayerlike, and insurance covered the painkillers, so this minor flaw was ignored. (In fairness, Superintelligence had recommended against all this, but Superintelligence had gripes with all of our ways of living, and no matter how omniscient or omnibenevolent, having a single entity call the shots would be hugely undemocratic, so it was politely told that “its feedback is very important to us and will be taken into account.”)

-Having made his way to a bedpod for a well-deserved nap, grabbing a ChowTriangle(tm) along the way, he lay down, and felt a sharp pain in his left hand. +Lunch, then nap. Grabbing a ChowTriangle™ on his way out, he slid his aviator sunglasses over his eyes, the polarized filter dimming the sparkle of chrome and latex. His mustache caught a mild October breeze, weaving and flowing with the atmosphere like wheat once had. He pulled his hood up. Society. Humanity had made an uneasy peace with it. He raised his eyes to starlight and a queer bubbling came upon him. Courage. Even here there had to be a place for him. +

+ +

+He finished his meal and went back inside, making his way past the office and towards a bedpod. Hopeful and starry-eyed now to bed he lay him, when he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.

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III

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III

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-SPIDER!!!. Now that I have your attention, SPIDER!!!. It’d bit him. It shouldn’t have been there. After months of negotiation, a deal’d been reached. Clippy, the universe. Humans, the Earth. Spiders, Australia. This was not Australia. Thusly the Tripartite Partition Treaty designated the spider as an enemy combatant, overruling the California Bill of Animal Rights’ prohibition on killing insects. Jesus shot it with his web. Web? Web! Spider silk! Strong as steel, tough as kevlar, a wonderful material. Extremely illegal, as it was not listed on the California State Whitelist Allowlist of Materials Known Not To Cause Cancer (Superintelligence offered to provide a much longer list, but since most chemicals are not carcinogenic the list would’ve required Randian amounts of paper to print and was deemed environmentally unfriendly). +SPIDER!!!. Now that I have your attention, SPIDER!!!. It’d bit him. It shouldn’t have been there. After months of negotiation, a deal’d been reached. Clippy, the universe. Humans, the Earth. Spiders, Australia. This was not Australia. Thus the Tripartite Partition Treaty designated the spider as an enemy combatant, overruling the California Bill of Animal Rights’ prohibition on killing insects. Jesus shot at it with his web. Web? Web! Spider silk! Strong as steel, tough as kevlar, a wonderful material. Extremely illegal, as it was not listed on the California State Whitelist Allowlist of Materials Known Not To Cause Cancer (Superintelligence offered to provide a much longer list, but since the bulk of chemicals is not carcinogenic, the list would’ve required Randian amounts of paper to print and this was deemed environmentally unfriendly).

-It’d shot from his wrist. Jesus knew what this was about; he’d read about Trademarked Demiarachnid Mythological Figure (copyright to expire 70 years from now forever). Supposedly Media Monopolist Mouse Corporation had at some point genetically engineered spiders to do this, a move that was generally well-received but nowadays mostly forgotten about after the extinction of spiders in the human world. How did this little friend get here, where did it come from, and on that note where is it, where’d it go? Where’d you come from, spider silk Joe? +It’d shot from his wrist. Jesus knew what this was about; he’d read about Trademarked Demiarachnid Mythological Figure (copyright to expire 70 years from now forever). Supposedly Media Monopolist Mouse Corporation had at some point genetically engineered spiders to do this as part of a programme to assist and enhance actors in popular movie adaptations, an act which after twenty-seven blockbuster films had finally be deemed unethical and illegal. How did this little friend get here, where did it come from, and on that note where is it, where’d it go? Where’d you come from, spider silk Joe?

-Enfin, since carcinogenic compounds were considered Schedule I drugs whose possession was punishable by 1000 years of simulated subjective imprisonment (Superintelligence objected to this, but what’d it know about morality?), Jesus resolved to neither speak of the incident nor use his newfound abilities ever again. I, the Author, have full faith in him and am sure this won’t come up again. +Enfin, since carcinogenic compounds were considered Schedule I drugs (the era of recreational oncology had been brief but turbulent) whose possession was punishable by 1000 years of simulated subjective imprisonment (Superintelligence objected to this, but what’d it know about morality?), Jesus resolved to neither speak of the incident nor use his newfound abilities ever again. I, your Author, have full faith in his conviction and I am sure this won’t come up again.

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IV, or as It Is Known by the Makers of 15th Century Cathedral Clocks, IIII

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IV, or as Uccello Knew It, IIII

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-Skirt. Crop top. Boots; leather. Jacket; leather. Socks - long, pink. Lips - back; nails, too. Victoria. And her guitar. Not the kind that goes pling plong. The kind that makes an onomatopoeia befitting very aggressive electric guitar playing. She looked like a relic. Fashion from when old was new again in her great-great-great-grandmother’s days. Her tailors were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should. Loved to smoke the ganja. Everyone smoked, as cannabis consumption had been made compulsory in California, but she really enjoyed it. +Skirt. Crop top. Boots; leather. Jacket; leather. Socks - long, green; nails, too. Victoria. And her guitar. Not the kind that goes pling plong. The kind that makes an onomatopoeia befitting very aggressive electric guitar playing. She looked like a relic. Fashion from when old was new again in her great-great-great-grandmother’s days. Loved to smoke the ganja. Everyone smoked, as cannabis consumption had been made compulsory in California, but she really enjoyed it.

-And she played. Oh Superintelligence did she play. She played that guitar day and night. She played like her life depended on it. Social signaling, see? Some work, some play, some settle for catgirls; everybody craves companionship. That’s what she told her parents who thought she was wasting her youth plucking metal wires, anyways. Enfin, practice doesn’t make perfect, but it does make pretty damn good, and she was pretty damn good. Superintelligence however does make perfect and so people cared about human instrumentalists about as much as they care about switchboard operators. She plays, they don’t listen. +And she fingered. Oh Superintelligence did she finger. She played that guitar day and night. She played like her life depended on it. Courting behavior, see? Some work, some finger, some settle for Alexa; everyone craves companionship. That’s what she told her parents who thought she was wasting her youth plucking metal wires, anyways. Practice doesn’t make perfect, but it does make pretty damn good, and she was pretty damn good. Computing however does make perfect and so people cared about human instrumentalists about as much as they care about hatters. She plays, they don’t listen.

-She and Jesus met at a small outdoor venue. She shredded. Jesus ogled her bellybutton. She broke a string. Jesus didn’t want to stare too overtly. They locked eyes. A chuckle. Broke the ice. Jesus thought her belly looked really nice. Hello there. Nice tummy tyou. They exchanged numbers. +She and Jesus met at a small outdoor venue. She shredded. Jesus ogled her bellybutton. She broke a string. Jesus didn’t want to stare too overtly. They locked eyes. A chuckle. Broke the ice. Jesus thought her belly looked really nice. Hello there. Nice tummy’t’you. They exchanged numbers.

-A few days later. A cat cafe. A date. Though the Aenglisch language has stayed mostly static in the information age, it still shifts. Once, “cat cafe” meant a place where humans served other humans while cats hung around. As one of the terms of the Catperson Emancipation Armistice, a “cat cafe” is now a cafe where humans dress up as maids and serve catpersons; serving in one from time to time is a civic duty. +todo new date location

@@ -287,9 +313,9 @@ Jesus’ apartment. Wanna come in, have a smoke?

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Before the cloud had left her black lips, she’d already pinched the pegs of her axe - she carried it with her everywhere - and started tuning it. Looking down, blushing, wanting to look at anything but Jesus. Cute. Cutecutecutecutecutecute, he thought. The damn guitar obscures her belly, he thought. She, on her part, thought something perhaps best transliterated as asodifhweofnoqfc. She was no good with this kind of thing. She couldn’t deal with emotions using words. She’d rather play than speak; her fingers outskilled her tongue.

@@ -308,18 +334,18 @@ Jesus felt for her. He wanted to hear it. He wanted all of her, the song of her
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Jesús webbed.

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something something violin string it’s a sexual metaphor @@ -333,7 +359,7 @@ spider silk bdsm

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