oddlyunadventurous

[oddlyunadventurous]

HOT CHICKEN

ENEMY003

[oddlyunadventurous]

During a trek into r/gooncaves with my friends, I saw something that sticks with me. Profound. It was two guys having a threesome with one chick. The guys were sitting on the couch next to one another. They had a camera facing the couch, with its picture displayed on a TV mounted on the wall opposite of them. They were taking turns having sex with the chick. When two of them were having sex, the third would then masturbate on the couch next to them, watching them have sex on the television. So intricate on so many levels. Very homoerotic, but with an electronic veil of deniability. Which is a hallmark of the gooning community, the heterosexual group jerk sesh. But that contradiction is made deeper by incorporating live sex. On the same couch, no less. The presence of the chick is an additional layer of plausible heterosexuality, helping to justify jerking your thing with your buddy. This, however, renders the situation even more sexually volatile with the fact that the she was one of their girlfriends. So beyond a point it becomes a guy sitting on the same couch jerking off to a screen projection of a live feed of his heterosexual jerkoff buddy reaming out his girlfriend on the couch next to him, after his jerkoff buddy just jerked off from the same couch watching him have sex with his girlfriend.

It's like the screen keeps their fantasies artificial. A spiritual condom, so they can engage with their desires without being defined by them. I believe they were also wearing masks when they were doing this, which I assumed to be for the sake of posting it on reddit, but now that I'm considering it ads yet another layer of artifice to this. Like some Eyes Wide Shut shit. But then, at its heart, the whole gooning thing is about being ashamed of pornography consumption. Ironically engaging with the idea that it makes one inferior, or makes one sick, an addict. Thereby exchanging accountability for ones desires for play-inferiority. It's about these perverts making themselves feel like they're corrupting themselves by surrendering to the influence of the artificial world around them. And then, like, extending that into having physical sex with not just one but multiple people in the same room. By ironically embracing it, they are able to surrender to their desires without accountability.

I can't help but respect visionary, avant-garde perverts. There is so much to unpack about that. Legit that is just a performance art piece at that point. Very postmodern. Makes such a statement about how our environment influences our desires, and what living in an overwhelmingly artificial environment does to shape them. They're mutating their sexuality and going so deep into ritual to set an ironic stage for themselves to explore their desires.

They create intricate rituals to touch the flesh of their hog.

[oddlyunadventurous]

It's NOT schizophrenia

[oddlyunadventurous]

[oddlyunadventurous]

You know I actually do have a cold though, my last text post notwithstanding. If I was assuming a character in that one, this one is just me. Having a cold. Posting about at half past midnight because I can't fall asleep with how stuffed my sinuses are.

Looking to rid myself of my cold quickly and efficiently though, considering I have a whole night ahead of me before I can go to the doctor tomorrow, I go ahead and do what any rational, well-read libertine would do: I search on YouTube for "cold vibrations 10 hours."

I am not let down: the search results give me what I ask for. I quickly click on the first video, entitled "Binaural Beats for Cold and Flu: Cold Healing Frequency, Cold Relief." Like every other "frequency" video out there, it consists of a lame, stock footage animation soundtracked by a seamless ambient drone loop, which is what you're supposed to pay attention to. The description strings together meaningless buzzwords and emoji in an unmistakably ChatGPT fashion, and one cannot help but feel that the music itself, as well as the animation, were also manufactured by an algorithm.

This video in particular is eleven hours, fifty-four minutes and fifty-six seconds. As I type this I am currently thirty-four minutes and seven seconds in. When I was about six minutes in, I witnessed the green, cartoon virus cell rotating inside the stomach of the meditating blue silhouette, which sits floating in a gradient void reminiscent of a Windows Vista login screen (this is what the visual portion of the video consists in) dissolve, giving way to a five second, quietly animated advertisement for a "GOODVIBES APP", some sort of thing, I don't know, that one is encouraged to download from either the Apple App Store or Google Play, and presumably spend money in, and obtain more unimpressive ambient tracks through. It feels occult in more ways than one. Before I forget, I should also mention that YouTube informed me, just as I was navigating towards the video, that ad blockers were emphatically not allowed on the website, and that I ought to have either disabled mine or subscribed to YouTube Premium, a service you pay for so as not to receive the ads that I was already not receiving, on account of using an ad blocker.

The third comment on this video is a YouTube user saying, "Stage 2 lung cancer here. But I’m going to fight . This is just to remind you, appreciate life because what you complain about is what some people are fighting and dreaming to have ." It has fifty-nine replies. Most of them are prayers, or rather the word "prayer," declined or conjugated sometimes properly, sometimes not, and an inordinate amount of heart emojis. I don't see the anatomical heart once.

I get a brooding feeling that—okay hold on, I'm sorry, I don't get a "brooding" feeling, that's just a literary flourish right there. I apologize for starting the paragraph wrong. I actually don't feel anything. I get a thought, I have a thought is what I have. I think, "Man... I'm gonna listen to this whole vibration video while I sleep and in the morning I'm still going to feel like shit. What chances does the lung cancer guy have?"

I blow my nose and experience another emotionless, faint observation: that my father died of lung cancer when I was twelve years old. It's one hour, two minutes and thirty seconds into the video. I've just heard the ambient track restart. It's not even a perfect loop.

I see the GOODVIBES ad again. It's probably my fault for not paying attention to the healing frequencies, because I sure still feel like shit.

[oddlyunadventurous]

jorge luis

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like the burning Sun itself,

[oddlyunadventurous]

You told me you had a cold, so you couldn't come in to work on Monday. How does one know the coming of a cold? I thought a physician checked for empirical proof, for symptoms like high temperature or labored breathing, stuff that is subject to external validation. How did you know?

You felt like you had a cold. Don't lie to me. I know what your symptoms were, and I know where they originated—in your head. You felt the overstrain of a psychic muscle, you pulled a fictitious hamstring, that is to say a bundle of emotional affects that took the image of a hamstring in your prefrontal cortex, and you "needed time" to "recover". That was it, wasn't it? You were stressed, but not in the way, not with the meaning that physics invests that word with, not like a beam below a bridge. No. That's the only kind of observable stress. You made something up and then, proud of it, you sought to externalise it in your body; hence the remembered, then rehearsed, symptoms of a cold. Both you and me know your nose wasn't runny, your head wasn't light. Your temperature was normal. Your futile exercise in self-belief don't impress me. I should do well to tell you what a bad actor you are.

I hate you and hypochondriacs like you. I've been looking at you do this all your life. A lot of "colds" you had in school, too, didn't you? But time waits for nobody, especially not you. Haven't you figured it out?You keep doing this and yet I always keep winning! You do, after all, come in. How much longer do you think you can keep getting away with it? I need you to come in. You have to come in. You have to get up and come. The world doesn't wait for you. The world doesn't revolve around you.

It revolves around me. That's right, you heard me. What else would it revolve around, itself? What an outlandish notion. It revolves around me, so go up, fix your clothes, and walk. Come to me feeling drunk and nauseous, ashamed for trying to trick me, and watch your self-belief dissolve. A belief in psychic muscle damage. Ridiculous. Second Natures and levels of Reality overlapping each other. The world is a simple relation of causes and effects. It's you and me. Get up, I've summoned you.

Get up and come, alright? I know you want to, too. It's the provenance of men to get up and come. I need you to come. I need you. Don't you understand? You're not cold. Stop pretending that you're cold already. Why aren't you getting up? Don't leave me here alone. The world cannot revolve around itself. Hello?

[oddlyunadventurous]

Every Month BLÅVINGAD Has Something New In Its Mouth

June, 2025: A big slice of watermelon

[oddlyunadventurous]

wtf BLÅHAJ found at thrift store for 1/4th of the price and on my birthday too? Is God trying to tell me something???

[oddlyunadventurous]

there should be more media of hot young skinny confused slightly depressed white people looking at me through the monitor with an unaccountable emotion of unfulfilled intimacy that i can pine over and wish i could be, and look at through my monitor with an unaccountable emotion of unfulfilled intimacy for the entirety of my existence as a hot young skinny confused slightly depressed white person myself, until i get knocked into my third decade and realize i literally wasted my life wanting to want myself but now the myself i wanted to want (and didn't realize i already had, or "was," though this conception of the embodied self would be beyond the pale considering the context of the self-objectifying identity-formation pattern of today's society) is nothing but a recursive loop that i'll never be able to retrieve from the other side of the screen, where i have psychically projected it completely; and upon the realization of this grim prank the Devil's played on me it would probably be fun to recluse myself and slowly wither away like i'm a magnetic fields song made manifest. just spitballing here.

[oddlyunadventurous]

[oddlyunadventurous]

four sketches

[oddlyunadventurous]

The Sketch, London, February 7, 1912

[oddlyunadventurous]

two sketches

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breakfast

breakfast

[oddlyunadventurous]

Every Month BLÅVINGAD Has Something New In Its Mouth

May, 2025: Shadow the Hedgehog Tech Deck