meat and human and body. a love for gore, a squick for words.
And if I were to type like this?
Aside from coming across like a pretentious try-hard, I’d be tempting more than one ghost.
been way too scrambled to put together an ace/christianity zine contribution, but had a like, *Bing* yesterday of ~categories
- things i find comforting to believe, and (so therefore?) do
- things i would find comforting to believe, if only i could, but i don’t/can’t
- things i find discouraging to believe, and (so therefore?) don’t
- things i find discouraging to believe, yet do anyway (and perhaps would like not to?)
the problem isn’t the hard limits and the clear noes and the senses of conviction;
the problem is the wibbly discomfort and the vague unsettled feeling that fails to yield to internal probing and the faintest hint of friction
it’s lack of real-time experience processing and the filter-barriers to noticing recognizing articulating a thought
it’s why-isn’t-this-right and just-wait-a-bit and but-normally-this-feels-like
it’s the tiny quiet hyper-personal accommodations and the Imposing even on those who want to know and it’s conflicted and changeable and Obnoxious
it’s always making room for and avoiding reactions, it’s cost-benefit calculus constantly and subconsciously and it’s
(and then they say what a nice time that was wholly free of suspicion and when do you ever mention how the story ended for you?)
as i’m thinking about writing fiction again, i’m noticing how…not implausible, but un-writeable, certain things feel.
things i’d very much like to see written (or have happen), but cannot possibly seem to construct myself.
namely, at the moment, an arcflux character synching up with another character, so that yeses and noes and desires largely match and mismatches are no big deal.
…when ya fluctuate between repulsion-how-did-i-ever and desire-how-did-i-ever-not, and the latter comes with wanting to be desired (but the former sometimes means feeling dysphoric about being desired)
i cannot even write fix-it fiction.
and i hate that.