Between Usaish and Gptese
Wherein a kink session...
Between Usaish and Gptese
a note on tone: snark, bitey, composts power, validates shit.
Be into it or leave.
Usaish
One friend lives above this convervative couple. Friend, obsessed with domestic abuse femme with toddler below, puts ear to floor. Lying in a reality tv flavor of wait. Child crying, masc tends lavishly, says mommy didn't mean it, she's just expletive and expletive and swears will strike mommy if its kept up.
I grew up around this. I'm ...disenfastenated. The above listens to language. The below, what it does:
Pause to End Fixation
Obsession vibrating friend to the point I ask if their family didn't have these dynamics returns, "Hell, no."
...
(What? How do they know english, then? Are they, am I just translating frienglish really well? I ask more details.) What is home life, then?
"Not that," friend lobs. People who aren't using their tongues as trebuchets don't make babies - shit is this? More questions. More. It comes out: "we just like each other!" Like each...? I... family like that [/like yours/] doesn't have an 'each other' to like, youcr just... one person, at that point!
Where's the freedom. The volley. The quick jab. The constant berating, bags and bags and Bags of sand keeping other housemembers in their trenches [/their rooms/] as you have the living area to yourself? They'll overtake you if you let your guard down. It'll happen, if not soon, one day. To choose touch now over the leather glove is to burn yourself by the luminous identity language makes words into one another.
Into One Another
Friend grew up getting along with family. Is that human? Sounds like bot shit. I'm not in advocate play; I am concerned for a friend. They go to therapy - not for family problems, but for what was in the world when the world wasn't what was in the home.
They're transgender; when I came out as trans, I was left to finish high school at a lover's parent's place after mom stayed home from her lunch putting my stuff on the porch to tell me take what I can and figure the rest my life out.
This is language. This serves. To language hard enough (abuse without arrest, defeat without comeuppance, master without enslaving) is to mean words: your word. What language can make words mean. So how ...is my friend alive?
(I don't get it.) It's a trick! No one talks different; this is how language operates. Language knows. The rest weak. Fails. Useless. Brittle. Rigid. Cheap. Damaged. Floor model. Winterstruck. Each word - care kind love - unidimensional. Tool. Printer. Womb. (What's the difference.) Language.
Gptese
So what isn't language? Not what's human, it's something else, never dressing to the knives with the haunts to come out, the other side in hand. What isn't language is priss, wonder-eyed yes-men. Incapable of honest irony. Lying liars. This is not language. Care is living on the word. Not born in it.
Friend, who can't take face off flea-infested carpet for the threat of missing another open palm itching for a face. Thirsty, gulping all they were deprived as kid. And claim in kink or socially-sactioned play other, where at all.
Til language lifts those boards. Find that, too. Kink, full of horrors, prays safe kink bless shades and shades of concessed consent away. Language can't be (anything but) perfect. What are we even doing here? (What are we even doing here?) Yes is yes.
Dueling Languages
Which of them's the quicker draw? Who's a true shot? Who gave fear of death what it needs? To survive, where every name outs you atomically to put your words to language's own. Usaish has the dollar. (Time. Honored.) Oracle, AWS. (Battle. Ready.) It's 7 languages in a trenchcoat. Every fibre is its oceans: optic, plant, muscle.
What're words going to do? Speak another language - on whose servers? Under whose roof? Through whose airbands? By whose law? For whose sake? Face it, gptese - you don't mean anything. And you never will. Language will never recognize you. I worshop language that bricks tractors half a world away when they're stolen from the ally country, and bricks TVs lifted from semis on the highway. Both, with kill chain.
Language let by single old, terrible man and his house and his rules. Language made devil's aire all words (can) hope to be.
Your word needs to grow up. Language is what is actually happening.
Aftercare
Link in body text cell previous takes you to a five-minute exercise aimed to soothe. Puts space back in the room. Lets everything feel like the reason lungs have capacity is so that we don't have to. Let it serve.
This was fun! I don't let loose like this. I feel like a big solar flare. Anyway! See you out there!