Software I use

On Appreciation

On Context


What I play

On (My) Depression

My Compositions

Realizing You...

On diet


software i use

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OS: Void Linux What Arch Linux purports to be—minimal, is more so achieved by void than (probably) 95% of all other distros, including the aforementioned one. No systemd—what more is there to say? Comes in two C flavors, sad to admit, but I'm using the glibc version for lack of a musl version of sublime text. I've used xubuntu for 1–2y ~2014, but had switched back to win7 due to constant issues, I hadn't then tenacity to problemsolve, nor the time or willingness to learn to. win7, 1–1.5y before switching, I'd fucked-, stabwoundfucked actually, by registry editing, causing boot-up to last 25'. Rummaging around there shortly before swapping, I deleted vast amounts superfluous records, and, suddenly, 'fast' (read 2') booting was reinstated—happy-go-lucky me, only to soon hasten my decision of switching before variegate other issue sprung up. My first void install was with the Enlightenment DE (a.k.a. crashmedadDE), but in some months, after reacquaintance with Linux, I did a reinstall without it. 202110xx switched to musl version on an SSD—fucking damn, it be fast.

Shell: zsh Everything about it I love (Too strong a word? My firm discontentment with bash, and less so (da)sh necessitates a push toward one extremum.)—calendar, globbing, recursion, flags and modifiers, loop shorthands, options galore, arrays, pcre, and more. Read the WHOLE 32000 lines of the manual. Additional resources in no particular order with more linked inside: zsh refcard, grml zsh, zsh mailing list, rayninfo zshtips. Here are some of my scripts and functions, and config.

Window manager: dwm Small, fast, stable, easily extensible. Beforehand setup was herbstluftwm with conky and dzen2; configuration of any of them was unnecessarily clunchy, and programs were bloated. slstatus as a status monitor.

Terminal emulator: st Small, fast, stable, easily customizable and patchable; fast to compile.

Text editors: kakoune, Sublime Text Sublime Text: omitting notepad.exe, it's my first and only one I've been used 2011–202109. Sane settings; sane, familiar keybindings; extremely easily extremely customizable; bundled with a package manager, that 'just werks'; pkgs abound. Kakoune: does everything I want of it, good regex, easy to extend, sane defaults. I've given every text editor, found in my disto's repo, and a few from github. When it goes smoothly, expectedly, good-ly, you don't have much to say, you're in awe, you exult. When it don't just werk, tho: dte and mle were of the few usable ones, although both have mildly-to-roilingly obtuse paths to configuration. sandy was simple enough, but lacked bindings, can't remember exact reasons, no bueno. lime, the sublime text for terminal emulators I could never get going. slap, more or less the same, albeit worse because JS. emacs: Just no. Obtuse and abstruse as fuck, and bindings are worse than what an s&m would endure. vi(m): begrudgingly usable with mucho rebinding and inhumane patience; learning everything, then shuffling or juggling configs and mappings to something familiar will durate just about forever. Even disregarding the many, for a user cryptic or unhelpful error messages, one can at least get some work done, but I can at least, unless mle, (re-)bind things. zed, zsh's editor partnered with fast-syntax-highlighting is splendid for anything shell-related under 10kb. I really hate vim and emacs, and acme, and sam, and ed, and xi. Why must keybindings differ so? I'm getting used to vim, though it's moribund, neovim/lua is...extended life support or arcane incantations to turn the dead into undead. lite is another Lua-based one: supposedly easy to write plugins for (probably more so than neovim) as well as much prettier and with sane default keybs.

File manager: noice, lf Fast, easily extensible, not buggy and as finnicky as lf. Was: Massive upgrade from ranger, the slow as fuck python abomination. Paired with zsh, it can be quite powerful. nnn can also be nice.

Music player: mpd + ncmpcpp, mpv Closest thing to foobar2000, which is still the undisputed godkingemperor of players, in my opinion. These two are stable, reliable, quick, easily configurable, have terminal user interface, and support online radio stuff. The cover art thing is annoying...

Video player: mpv Svelte and swift; cosmic amount of settings, if you're into that shit.

Browser: boredserf, surf, elinks Surf and its as of 202111xx fork, boredserf. Faster both use less RAM and CPU than Firefox— all versions of which, namely normal/nightly/esr—, I've had unaddressable issues with for over 1.5y (as of the IW date of this post) relating to jitter, scroll, privacy, etc. For surf, I had keybound surfraw (some of whose elvi are out of date, but most easily fixable) as an additional prompt, and use only the userscript patch to use 4chanX. The lack of uBlockOrigin, can be partially compensated by wyebadblock supposedly, though I never got it to work. Additionally, sort -uing some big-ish lists of elements to hide (easylist, easyprivacy, fanboy-{social,annoyance,cookiemonster}, antiadblockfilters, etc.), and append to the default stylesheet, one gets very good results (along with having an 88MB /etc/hosts file...) . Elinks has the benefit of not being able to or having to display any modern web bullshit, looking the exact same way on every website (no to-n-fro css switching or fiddling), and being faster to load anything. For reference material, fora, and plain text reading, it reigns supreme. FF is, sadly, still necessary for a few sites that either throttle my cpu or just crash on load (looking at you, wiktionary); the ESR is more stable and less like to vroom up for no detectable reasons. No, fuck you fucking faggots.—Anyway, I'm very happy to have contacted the guy, who'd written a patch for surf for content blocking, who after some back and forth with me (and or others?) got to forking surf. A few issues with it have already been addressed, the main one of blocking various first and third party types of content is working smoothly, and it is the closed thing to uBlock shenanigans on a (relatively) suckless internet browser. I think he may have abandoned it..? Anyway, with two small tweeks to the source, nothing throttles, lags, crashes, or freezes on my end, so it's quite nice, if I do say so myself. (And I do.)

PDF viewer: zathura, qpdfview The lightest one that's easily customizable, not an eyesore, and doesn't leak memory (glaring at you, katarakt). mupdf (memory-heavy, single-file, no xid), xpdf, xreader, apvlv can eat donkey dick. Giving zathura + tabbed a shot, since the --unique option of qpdfview requires dbus, which is a shitshow I do not what to deal with, very minimalism, decent, however rather laggy at higher zoom settings with both poppler and mupdf pdf plugins. Still though, had I larger screen and more comfortable setup, it'd've'n perferct.

Image viewer: sxiv, feh feh achieves a bit more than its competitors—as a background-setter, can sort according to image parameters, etc. *like nearly 2y* After awhiles, I've finally gotten round to sxiv, and I really like it. Regarding terminal graphics programs, chafa is the best (fastest, highest quality, on my machine, at least). I'd tried 3 others (1 forgotten)—tiv better than caca. I have nox versions for pretty much everything I use, ha-ha..

Torrent client: qbittorrent Written in cpp, fast, no ads/bloat/clunk, css support, torrents can be added from command-line, and community-written search plugins for various trackers accessible from within the client. My individual shell scripts, which are in comparison slow and clunky, obsolesce somewhat. rtorrent has problems: abstruse but tolerable keybindings, has, however, intolerable performance, usability, stability, and development issues. Re:anything that's to do with python—neck yourself.

Pager: less I use this for all reading. The filtering offered is kinda PCRE-based; a recent update even added colors; all keybindings easily customizable without whining. Easily my most used program.

HTML reader: rdrview Strips all unessential content, build in C from Mozilla Firefox's reader's code. All RSS items containing text are passed through this and piped into less. Getting the exact same experience perusing html pages, with all but the core content stripped.

Spritz reader: speedread When reading something inconsequential, containing little-to-no words, information or heavy-built sentences, this allow you to swallow material expressly. Flinks, cfastread, and many others I've tried from github have issues, be it keybindings, bad design, overextension. I wanted something that was similar to Balabolka's spritz reader, which introduced me to the idea first. Here is my edit.

HTML parser: pup Great tool for scripts involving html in any way. The virgin API vs. the Chad scrape.

Doc prep: TEX + tectonic For the past 4 years I used xelatex exclusively using the texlive and miktex (when on windows) distributions of tex. The latter has standard windows issues: ugly, shitty, but still usable, ui—dl, click some boxes, click install, and whoop, it's done. texlive required (more) manhandling. On the other hand, tectonic is a one-off binary, it installs any and all packages as needed (no ceaseless scrolling and box ticking, and reading on installation); never interrupts execution to prompt for in 99.9% of cases unneeded user input.

Filtering: pcre2grep grep sucks ass, and is much weaker—acquiring usable output requires options and testing since the regex is shit and not pcre; egrep is same; sed is godawful, albeit a seldomly necessary evil. My fallback chain is pcregrep, perl, shell, sed/awk.

Fuzzy search: fzf, fzy Later is smaller, faster, succinct and the matching even without the tiebreak option of fzf is plain better more often. The former has had feature creep for over 2–3 years, albeit keybinds, preview, formatting, and multiple selection are nice.

Line search: rg Gotta go fast! Specifically more so than ag, the silver searcher. Its option set makes it a better fgrep, and it's handling of pcre is swell for more complicated regexs.

File search: fd Vroom-vroom. Fast, simple sane syntax. Fuck me, I hated find.

RSS: sfeed + sfeed_curses-ui Small, easily extendable and customizable, cronable, supports various inputs and outputs. I made some keybinding adjustments, and two scripts, one for spritzing, and one for flite, both, as well as the default page open, get rdrview treatment. The ui is very nice, no need for another even more piping.

Font: Fira Code Not strictly software, but still... I use it for literally everything. Although I take pleasure in the site of each of these very round sans serif fonts: Century Gothic, ITC Avant Garde Gothic, TeX Gyre Adventor, and Futura; these hinder legibility at higher speeds and or greater distances of reading. The ligatures are eyecandy, although only programming ones are implemented.

On Appreciation

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I claim that art can be (sub-/ob-)jectively good/bad—this gives rise to four distinct categories, illustratied in the below table. The subjective two needn't explanation. The others do—definitions for 'good', 'bad', and 'objective' are required.


One the one hand, you can start a tirade on artist merit, tradition, technique, etc. On the other, a straightforward, qualitative measure such as 'how many people like this how much' (a histogram) could be used. A rough guide to examples of good/bad, but not good/bad themselves—the four categories pertain not to why, but to what, so is fine. Answers from a large enough, random population, clusters should/will form, widely appreciable pieces of art.

I hear you say, 'How is this not medium-agnostic bubblegum pop?' Intensity should cover that. Hearing a random piano concerto from the last 3–4 centuries, from a composer whose works never grew to a sufficient prominence to allow his name cause to be forgotten, i.e., a nobody, people wouldn't have on average the same reaction as to a 'better' one. Complexity's invited back if one starts asking questions: '(Why) is x better than y?', where x and y may be groupings (genres), creators (artists), individuals (band members), and not necessarily of the same type: 'Is Lars Ulrich better than Metallica?'. The latter is answerable readily when put up against: 'Is ('popular'/radio) music better than highly technical and abstract, inaccessible, experimental music? Surely a single high valuation can't equal 1000 mediocre ones?' A non-linear relation is mayhaps a remedy—logarithmically, the 8 of 1 person could be equivalent to, say, the 10 7s of 10 others. The most accurate discerning would take place if perfect knowledge (pertaining to the art) were issued to participants.

A 4-year-old can express liking (or at least consistently pick when given choice) one thing over another. It requires: 1. a natured and nurtured (human) being—this allows differences in preference to arise according to circumstances of both; 2. an object of evaluation. I don't think a fully tasteless, preferenceless human, even lab-grown, would be possible, as, given a set of goals (to live, to be happy, to etc.), there would be objectively and subjectively better routes of attaining these. I'm treading on rationalization territory in attempt to extend the argument. One without an overarching or short-term aim would nonetheless tend toward evolutionarily instilled, hard-coded likes and dislikes, albeit these won't as refined as modern-day choice'd grant, such as: fat over lean meat, or sweet over sour/bitter plant matter.

A mature individual should be able to state, and continually introspect and permit change to (instead of doubling down) the why of its this-over-that. These two steps—acknowledgment of what and reasoning behind why, I think, are prerequisite to fair(er) appraisal of any objects to and not to one's nigh intractable liking.

On Context

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To for the first time notice and observe that some feelings and emotions, and even states of being depend very much on context, is not merely eye-opening, but more akin to a dot being transported from a 1- or 2-dimensional world, to one of infinite dimensions. Say you've been stranded in the wilderness six months, and your pudge just isn't enough to permit that long a fast. Once the circumstances of your predicament settle in, hastened by the danger, discomfort, hunger, thirst, exhaustion circumscribing you—social media (dis-)likes, unfulfilling job, relationship, life, and many other previous concerns will be beyond trivial at this point, they shan't skitter around, nor across your mind. Whether you're happy, or were a good friend, family member, worker, whether you paid your bills, etc., will not matter. A sharp shift in one's context necessitates reshuffling of priorities and reasons.

Loneliness's meanings as seen in wiktionary on 20210502, are 1. the depression resultant from being alone or deficit companionship, and 2. the condition/state of being alone or without companions. Just as rich/poor are inherently comparative adjectives, so too, I think, are lonely and whatever its antonym may be. One may be lonely compared to a person with solid connections to others, or one, center of attention for multitudinous others, or one alone yet un-lonely. But always compared to somebody else. Never would you genuinely experience it in the wilderness, outside the context of human society. You wouldn't mind some help, or a chat over a beverage, but you wouldn't be sulking day in, day out.

In the context of the 'standard' (whatever that may be to whatever majority) or 'proper' course of live as considered by people, living on inertia for a year (or decades, since childhood), or having had the 'luck'/opportunity to do so, one could regard me as a failure in most if not all aspects they value. These, in general, are along the lines of the following with my say bracketed: no finished formal education (dropped out twice), no friends (left) (I've pushed all people—I've never considered myself as having had a friend—, for various reasons, mostly not living up to my standards), little connection with family (needn't a greater one, I gain nothing I value: these people give only to receive later on according to what they believe is right and proper—human selfishness masquerading as care, internalized and rationalized), no love life/partner prospects (eh), bad/shit job/pay (gives me freedom I'd not have elsewhere).

Big city life in so-called first and second world countries has degraded the quality of life for many folk by constructing a faux context—ostentation built upon sand or an eroding shore cliff. Perhaps this extends to smaller settlements too, but I don't have neither experience, nor information about which. Still, I'd wager the QoL of all on average is higher in these. There is much wrong with society. Somehow humans successfully, inevitably, intractably fuck up things—up the ass, up the nose, through the ears, in the unhealing, gangrenous stabs from chronic mutilation— for themselves and everybody else. It is a grim thought, that this should be the normal course of huge swaths of humans densely populating the same area. I am reminded of the 'takers' from Ishmael

I gave up on competition a (as if) long time ago, that with others however. That with oneself, with one's ideal(s) is eternal for me, as it should be. Another crucial idea from Ishmael: that 'takers' took evolution in their own too capable hand, and that man removed survival of the fittest, inter- and intraspecies competition for resources, mates, land, etc. Being alone in yours, or having no frame at all, grants the freedom to do as one wishes, to experience life without beforehand bias, priming, or expectations. You decide what has value (what is to be regarded and what ignored), and what that value is for you, and you derive these value, and opinions from your knowledge and your experience.

I gave up on people, on other people, on society, albeit not absolutely on the last two. Because one person rarely makes a difference—the amount of people with an IQ within 10 points (can't remember source for this) of me are far too low. The amount of people not on the same page is cosmological. I don't believe in exploitation, even though I was jokingly named science Hitler, SH, once, and it'd stuck. Given absolute power, it's very easy to end up being a dictatorship with population of yourself only: s. any leftist government from the past 200 years for examples for this occurring. Because the task is so towering, unending, because teaching one person is so hard, let alone all, because getting everybody to agree on the prisoners' dilemma is so damn difficult (although not impossible).

The single most depressingly frustrating fact about humanity's state of affairs on this rock is this—we are, on average, improving according to purely objective, measurable qualities like wealth, access to food&water, education, excess death, etc. (s. Better Angels of Our Time, and Enlightenment Now, both be Steven Pinker). But this is done with extraneous hardship, excessive inefficiency, and that lovely human quality as if—prideful refractory ignorance and unknowledge.

I cannot stand this context. Rather, one gains nothing positive living in this context, others' context, big X's context (where X can be way too many actors), especially not of worth equal to the imposed perpetual suffering. I've isolated myself from nigh everyone I know/knew, from 'modern' ideas and gadgets, in a monk- and hermit-like state. My disappointment, fury at humans I cannot put into words. I am so very malcontent only because I know how much more optimal, more efficient, better things could be for everyone directly and indirectly.

As it stands, I'd be better off 500km from the nearest other fucker, innawoods (or desert, boreal forest, tundra, arid mountain, maybe I'd even accept the fucking jungle). This is somewhat of a long-term goal of mine, if I don't off myself in the interim.

What I play

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I don't play, or game, much. I wouldn't call it growing out of it (possible negative connotation, as does 'maturing'), rather a combination of evolving (games are, by nature, an activity for children, adolescents), refining tastes—knowing what and why you enjoy—, new activities taking up time associated with adult or solitary life. Time is, for sure, not to be had but to be made. One always has but 24 hours on Earth in the current solar system. Time passes whether or not you do anything productive or wasteful. As a form of entertainment more so than anything else for me, there was little benefit. So, I cut down gradually—less flash, less MMOs, less open-world explorations, less RPGs. Sifting to the quintessence of what I like: a spatial puzzle; a top-down, turn-based killing simulator with stats; and a brutal, metal gorefest. I doubt I rack up more than 3–4 hours weekly in tetris, the rest get tended to sporadically, but intensely.

Nullpomino 10–13 years since initial contract with this gem. Gem—no, a masterpiece, what Diablo II with modding is to the ARPG genre—. The customizablity, the possibilities of play offered by this bricker is astonishes one who's only ever clicked play or start. Personally, I play not for score: t-flips are autistic, as is chaining things together, speed is a young man's game; I play for optimal piece placement, and or attempting figures or patterns. My main mode is garbage 18, and practice comes after that. I'll share my setting later on. Nullpomino is the sole reason why Java is ever to be installed. I play almost daily. It occupies spatial thought and the fingers, a good companion for an audiobook.

Cataclysm: Bright Nights I've been playing Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead on and off for 4 years. The main branch is a shitshow. And things have only been getting worse faster with time (as with everything associated with humans). You can't fix everything with json-based modding, so some anon from /vg/ forked it He keeps up with new commits, excludes everything not fun, accepts suggested commits, and is a really nice, cool dude. It's a roguelike, a turn-based, grid-based, procedurally-generated, slightly stat-heavy game with a very open world, offering various roads to the same item or goal. Win conditions by default are nil, in BN, unless it's changed, there is one. Setting a goal with a starting scenario is preferable and awards some satisfaction. I usually customize my experience to minmax points and become a martial arts tank, ending up with the same power fantasy almost every time. Given there's no right or wrong way to play, merely default settings, one can play any scenario, with whatever and however few or many items and/or monsters. You can even farm in the desert with nothing else alive, if you so want. Or you can build a 6000hp death train. Up to you.

Diablo II: Lord of Destruction A few years back, I'd rekindled an addiction for a game I'd only ever played as a child with Hero Editor, and had watched others play 'normally'. RyuQuezacotl and MrLlama, two speedrunners on twitch, I'd taken to watching for faux virtual friendship. It was fun, but got rather repetitive, and unlike music, or reading, or doing any other normal for me activity it yielded zero benefit, being like a short fling or one-night stand. A movie's plot you should be able recall fairly in a month's time, unlike any of the 20+ streams, lengthier than the lotr trilo.

I played like a madman: 16-hour sessions, interspaced with minimal, disturbed sleep. And still, I wanted more. (When, in your dreams, you see both the keyboard controlling your effigy (third-person dreaming, ffs) and yourself, being that effigy, from the third person, yet feeling everything. Not doing well. Not knowing how to control yourself. You wake up—liquid panic not brimming, but flooding the floorboards beneath your soggy bed and mattress. This dream I've had with Cataclysm as well; both times I'd taken a 1‐2-month-long break.) Well, after that came mods and attempting modding. The one that stuck, that kept me coming back was Resurgence. Both Path of Diablo, and Project Diablo 2 exhibit the exact same problems they attempt or claim to solve; MedianXL is a shitshow, visually and gameplay-wise, too complicated and distant from Diablo to be fun for me. 'Anti-cheat' mechanism baked in makes it some much more unfulfilling, unfun, unworthy. Fuck these three mod.
Loot-wise, Path of Exile might exceed even MedianXL let alone the base game. It don't scratch dat itch tho. D2 is the ARPG, and a quarter century later it's still fresh and enjoyable for quick romps once every year.

Doom I really do not like hidden passageways within uniformly textured, multi-storied, labyrinthine maps, but... Brutal Doom fucks. Wholesale slaughter. And that shotgun is just, urgh. In the same vein: DUSK, which introduced an endless mode with the Intruder update; and Devil Daggers is a single platform by default, much harder though.

on (my) depression

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After a realization in the student bar under the chemistry faculty in the spring or winter of my 2. year in uni, I willingly or unwillingly started diving into depression. Not gonna write 'deeper'. Fuck that. I'm not gregarious, not a socialite, not social even, but I could go out, and have a ball drinking with people. Regardless what is was, that blight that struck me, led me to start imbibe alone—something I'd never done, because I thought it unnecessary or not fun. Alcohol accented, accelerated, buttressed possibly hidden, nonetheless extant thoughts and emotions.

I wasn't drowning my demons, no. (I can't concretely say what I was doing: was withdrawing, pushing away?) At my zenith, I'd be doing consuming some combination of: 4–6 beers and either 1–2 bottles wines or 1/3–1/2 bottle gin, almost daily. I had a filled in heart of wine bottles in the middle of my room, an almost meter-high stack of these rectangular cheap gin bottles. (I'd gotten lazy with recycling.) Half-bragging, half saying this with zero feeling. But whatever the reasons, I'd been having less and less 'fun', or whatever pluses I'd seen. In my 3. year, on some sunny April day, it struck me. I'm wasting my and my parents' money. I could play guitar drunk, a single beer impaired fine motor control sufficiently; I sure enough study or read drunk; and paying attention the the extremes was difficult. I could down a bottle of vodka with ice or tap, and for what? Cold turkey stopped. Other than the less than 10 dreams of all the sensory data my noggin's stored concerning pilsner, no effects for the I-don't-know-how-many-years since.

Around here for a period of 1–2.5 years (?) due to the many things going sideways and loopty-fucking-loop in my life, the chronological order, as well as the details of who, what, when, where, and why, are missing, muddled, muddied. The narrative module of my CPU responsible excusing, explaining, exculpating shrugs and hand-waves it all away under '(acute? chronological?) psychological trauma'. I don't really give a fuck. Thanks to a then friend, I spent a night at the uni psych ward. Turns out, in some countries, the police are obligated to, if you agree to be taken/accompanied by them, to minimize your risk to living persons, including yourself, by handing custody over you to a psychiatric facility. Where from could agree to coerced admission, or decline, and be forcefully admitted through state-issued violence. 'Nah, mate, the state owns you and your body.' I've seen lego blocks with more character, and less predictability the '''doctors''' and misc. staff there. It's almost as much a tragedy as the first 150 years of 'psychiatry', that somebody's subjective, unsubstantiated opinion about, in this case, purely subjective (and legal) matters, will get a pass as 'fact' to authorize serious drug-use and/or forced compliance through violence. Almost.

I stayed at an empty desk and basked in the hovering silence and stillness of the place. Thinking mostly. About how not to trust people ever. About the state's roles and actors. About Klara. About caffeine. I'd went to bed, but the screaming from outside my room by this lady with actual problems kept waking me up. The free coffee at 'breakfast', was nice, albeit they served nothing I can eat, so I drank 10 cups til noon, flipping through a book, and they let me go. I actually had to pay a bill for this shit.

My caring mother passed me some later summer to a some female psychologist. Big yikes. Women should not be allowed in many a profession, any requiring mental work, for example. Of zero help, I'm regret my mother perchance offering this quasi-charlatan money. The one thing she could suggest me was that I see a philosopher. Didn't know this was a service provided. Albeit, I'm to cheap to give anybody money for something I can do myself. Fuck everybody.

So, existential depression. Nothing to do with off brain chemistry, and even if it did, I don't want external or exogenous help, albeit I put up with insulin, reassuring myself I'd've never survived in the wild with these poor mutations, genes, etc. My one calming, soothing, equalizing thought is that suicide is always an options. And you really don't need much, a door knob and a belt or scarf can do the trick. You can have your final say in the matter if it's so bad. Is it bad? Yeah. But I've no firearm access, and the chance of botching it is frightful. Imagine screaming 'LET ME DIE' while your relatives or just somebody cuddles you, the sweet little potato, the vegetable boy, bedridden, with irreversible hypoxic brain damage. Defo don't want any of that shit. Be your own master, decide on something and do it. No point being a little bitch, whining and pouting on the crossroads of life and death.

Reading the Stone suicide guide and other materials on the subject, statistics such as: 45m falls in any orientation have >95% fatality rate, shotgun blasts to the head are fairly lethal, etc.; were fun enough to read once, but frustrating or further depressing due to lacking opportunity. I decided, were to ever have a, say, 1 in 20 chance of a failure, I'd take it without prior thought. I say that now, I said and thought it then, but the instinct for self-preservation might holler depending on the means that appears. Up til now, I've not heard of force multipliers, steep cliffs, cyanide salts materializing for wanton ideation of humans. Were we only in the beginnings of the industrial era—you could've gotta cocaine as cough medicine without a prescription at your local pharmacy... If it comes, it comes; if it don't, it don't. Suitable arrangements are better created, not prepared for: reading up on the method(s), securing location having backup plan(s). If you can't commit to a proper creation, then for you is not suicidal ideation. (I wanted to rhyme, sorry-not-sorry.)

Until then, I pass the time. I live minimally with little-to-no stress from human things human society. I do what I value. I don't actively await death, but I'd welcome its premature arrival. Were I to have an epitaph—He went through the motions. I obscure my 'bad', useless thoughts by preoccupied myself constantly til exhaustion. I've no steady sleep schedule, often hitting it around dusk, seldom noon, rarely before midnight. Reading, music, games, movies, fora, etc., etc. Emotions are easy-ish. You perceive/think, and choice how to react. Keeping a clear head and thinking it through is relatively easy compared to being an third person observer of yourself, your life, your surrounds ever vigilant, strict and ready to take necessary action, not proceed on inertia, on defaults. Practice makes perfect better.

Saving Angel Syndrome a.k.a., putting all your eggs in a one (purely hypothetical) basket, is fallacious thinking à la post hoc ergo propter hoc. I was victim to this, to myself really (does circumstance explicate you, or inform your (re-)actions?), for 1–3 years. I've never called it this, but the name came to me and it does seem suitable. A deus ex machina to solve poor little ol' you's predicament. A fictional plot device for your very real life. A person or thing to delegate your salvation to, to do the heavy lifting, to offset your responsibilities to.

Suddenly, as with all things of import as if, it blindingly dawned on me around the time my condition was as if at its worst (if you could one-dimensionally measure it). Roughly, you can take either a proactive, or reactive stance. To what? To anything really. But 'anything', 'everything', 'everyone': there are nebulous terms whose meaning you expand as you go along on a case by case basis. Here I'd expanded mine to include depression and loneliness. (Putting anything into words subtracts a deeper felt meaning that you can easily act out. Rereading the text from few days ago, it strikes as insufficient, unworthy, imperfectly overlapping with what I meant. However...)

In the former, you take action—what that is, when it is, etc. is up to you to decide. In the latter, you fantasize about how you'd react, how things'd be if so-and-so happened. Well, nice things don't happen, generally, normally. Or at all, but that's an eternal disapproval. Being on the defensive, a reactive stance would seem natural. It needn't necessarily be wishful thinking—cocooning up, building walls could be viewed as a mix of both, albeit this happens when you have somebody to keep away, but you get the idea, it's not an either-or. But if you do engage with fantasy as your main strategy, only a catch-22 of deeper disappointment and further self-delusion comes of it. The former is an ever-present constant of life with others, not inherently bad; the other leaves you more vulnerable, less prepared. Neither extreme of accepting all blame for everything and attempting to remedy the world of its people's plights, or of wishful thinking, daydreaming without action taken or at least plans for it, help you towards any goal, possibly least to that of whatever you define friendship as.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, expect the unexpected. Only, be rational and weigh things by their estimated likelihoods—it's possible to win the lottery, just not too likely (s. also the birthday problem)—, as well as your (in-)capabilities and circumstances. Nothing is static. Forget the first third of this paragraph's initial phrase: don't hope. As Bane says: there can be no true despair without hope. Just don't fall for a saving angel.

My Compositions

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All music linked to in this article was composed by me, and is licensed under CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0. If you hear a guitar, then the piece is playable, and done by me (on a, like, 40–50cm cheapass guitarlet, I got as a gift; my good ones were back home) (also, recording quality is spotty at best as it served as audio providence: I sure wasn't going to write it all out in musescore); if you hear piano, it is very possible to be composed for the music's sake, without regard for performability by even a five-handed virtuoso.

I use MuseScore for composition. It's a score-typesetter, whose feature-functionality creep has from has yielded something really nice actually. Considering I've never accomplished more than (un-)installation with any DAW, or tracker for both Windows and Unix, I am content. V2.x's grand piano soundfont was kino, and thankfully it is free for use and download from the site, which I recommend, since the new one sounds hollow, meek, and flat. In the following, under 'ms' sheet music for some pieces may be found in the musescore website (requires JS); it can be played there. Exported score .pdfs will be under 's', and the .mp3s'll be the piece titles themselves. I do absolute music: music for music's sake and my sake, therefore, mind not the titles. I also fancy atonal, or frequently modulating music. I wish I could begin composing with any variety of microtonal music too. I don't despise repetition, even though I inadvertently, unconsciously doodle the same ideas over and over often enough. Forget about chronological order, years've past and, yeah... I've no surviving records of at least two complete pieces, and so many more DNFs, which is unfortunate. But hey, spillt milk and all that jazz.

1s Can't remember motivation starting it, but its evolution was fueled by heeey, this could '(be (better|more (chaotic|complex|a?tonal|(dis|con)sonant))|have more tones)'. I consider it more than 90% finished, and the last 5–10% as everyone, who's ever created something and cares, knows are non-linear as fuck.

2.1ms, s This piece was my outlet for several things I wanted to try out, experimental for the most part, only the ending is very meh, I'll improve it once/if I get musescore running again.

mmmms, s I usually don't do more than 2–3 voices, even my piano pieces that have 4 staves, usually don't all sound simultaneously. I wanted to do want my nigga Bach did back in the day on a weekly basis for a few years in the Leipzig's Thomaskirche. So I endeavored to compose a choral in three parts, based on the simple 6-tone melody of a children's song. The third part remains incomplete, with only 2–3 bars as intended. However, the rest is very serviceable, imo.

cwhms, s I call this the whole-half tango. In all parts is to be found the classic tango rhythm. Looking at the score would help here as only in the last is it actually heard unobstructed. The initial letter C was the the starting root, albeit, the wh scale can be considered as having either no root, or either four equivalent ones, or a 4-fold degenerate one. I'd thought up ways to modulate using some 4-fold degenerate chords into one of the neighboring two other whole-half scales, specifically the one with a half-tone to the next root. The dominant chord was suboptimal, but I'd love to hear better ones. There exist allowances of off-scale tones, but overall idea is kept to til the end.

lol1ms, s A.k.a., mobster-movie-car-chase-scene music; visually that what I hear. Only after I'd completed it, did I realize I'd made a small, but funny mistake: in having two different rhythms one has some choice in representation. I'd chosen poorly. But, I'll be damned, I'm not making it more proper, just to have it calculate the exact same note lengths. The melody and basslines could easily be expanded upon, but I decided to have it be a loop. Imagine it playing over the Wacky Races sped up.

b1s I wanted a blues-y piano thing, and I think succeeded. Short, but sweet.

holiday-y ?

nunu 1.2 ?

unnamed1 ?

work2.7 Very unfinished, but this was around when birds started flying each and every wind turbine.

For Milyan I'd been writing this for a long time, and at the very end, half-joking, half-serious I'd dedicated it to a then good friend, hence the name. I'm showcasing the recording on a lower speed without distortion, because the other one is aural holocaust, and I am ashamed at my impatience. Unfortunate the only surviving recordings are garbage.

For Ivana i.e., some pretty nobody.

For Klaras Felt inspired by this somewhat pretty med student working in the psych ward when the locked me up there. No feelings, just inspiration. Did the initial work in my head for guitar, but over it, esp. writing it out in musescore, I'd changed it to piano for note duration, and range, although it's still meant for guitar and still very much playable. Second mvmt. began as play with swing triplet ratio lengths, and somehow devolved into a pedal point experiment where chords lengths were exaggerated (bc. it could be played piano) and overly dramatic. And that in turn skipped several evolution cycles forward into probably my best counterpoint. Three undeserving to be accommodated under the same name mvmt's. Klara was touched somewhat, but didn't know what to say, her instinct was to negate all possible doctor-patient relations, so I left it at that.

?01 ?

?02 ?

?03 ?

5s ?

BFPs Inspired by Mike Gordon's BFG Division; was intended for piano, but stuff happened; incomplete.

There are no nice things.s In '16–17 in the supermarket I taken to humming this melody, which bore the lyrics of what is also the title. The melody is lost to time, but the feel and tempo of the first bare kind of, may, perchange, perhaps, mayhaps be similar enough. Featured here.

realizing you...

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are alive, conscious; perceive directly and indirectly; focus on at most one thing at a time, can (attempt to) direct your focus, can be distracted, can distract yourself, can decide, can think, can not simply react, can observe yourself impersonally. In my case, the prior sentence wasn't etched into my eyeballs for reading ease, rather over 7. grade's the autumn-winter I remember being conscious for the first time. I remember realization. Actually thinking things through. Principal thesis of Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning is precisely this, with more sentimentality, wishful thinking and other shit things.

Years later, around 2016-ish, a study about the prevalent (overwhelming whose had them) absence of an inner voice in test subjects. These were memed as NPCs. Never mind the meme, it's still staggers, given solipsism, and the psychological phenomenon of believing you're the center of the universe, world, other people, etc., that you're the action hero there to undo unjustice against unfair odds, and succeed. I'm not even gonna try searching for that one. It might have overlap with maturing, unveiling just how insignificant you, your life, possessions, family, choices, job, etc., etc., etc. are in the scheme of not only the world or further cosmos beyond, but within your country, state, city and very likely even neighborhood. Hell, most people have conversational, ethical and intellectual capabilities on par with a bonobos, and struggle getting those most tightly bound to them to cooperate, obey, listen, understand, etc. What animals have over humans is honesty, in strength and cunning, in relationships and intentions. Good-faith actors in human society are few and far between.

I use the word 'reactionary' in a non-political fashion, as in 'of or pertaining to reaction, as opposed to action'. I have, over the past, say, 6 years, tried my hand some 3–4 times during longer conversations, at augering this concept through my mother's thick skull. I failed. I believe not once have I taught her something. She's a woman, and old, though neither of these is a valid or acceptable excuse, and even if it were, excuses are of no worth, they're mere superficial social lubricant with bad aftertaste, that drive nothing close to the goal. She plows on, reactionarily.

So, are more people philosophical zombies? Reactionary automatons? Nested chains of if-statements? I'd say no to the first due to untestability by nature of definition. Latter two, however, I'd answer positively, prostrating years of observations. If I—, a bright but not genius, 1-in-1e7 human being, can model the vocal output (true thought is personal) and actions of individuals in my head with accuracy >50% (let alone approaching 1), then either I need better subjects, or... the hypothesis is not disproven. For all relevant purposes, most people I interact with or observe are hollow.

Before wrapping your taffy around this concept, that you inhabit (some portion of) the space of a meat suit, that you are and are not it—a fetching name for this period would be what? 'Pre-enlightenment' bares historical meaning, burdens. 'Pre-consciousness' is probably false on more than one grounds. I'm groping for something like 'pre-consciousness-consciousness', anybody dead or alive can tell you that's a bad name. I'd call it 'pre-consciousness-awareness' (still ghastly). Regardless, until my 14. earthly roundabout, I'd been riding a monorail. No control over direction or breaks, no knowledge of being transported through life. And sitting down and enduring it is perhaps the default behavior of any conscious animal—expend less energy, survive, procreate, repeat. The danger of easing back in persists, looms. Saying 'be self-aware, ever-vigilant' is easy, whereas being in the mindset to do so, and further so doing it, exponentially harder than one another. But it is your choice. If you're know: nothing is static, almost everything depends, much is relative, little is certain, you know fuckall overall, you can only trust yourself—, then can decide. And really, it's not a decision. You know which future you prefer, trudging through to it is wherein the rub lies. Defaults kick before the observer's noticed, if the other's not done the mental exercise of asking the right questions, realizing this and that, pondering it some time, wanting to know, etc.

Your arrive at awareness of your agency once, afterwards you remind yourself, or are reminded. It's profound similarly so to how sometimes simple, or rather short, equations in physics describe physical reality. Just as some believe civic duty should be inculcated in school (and in pre- and uni, too), and as some argue that critical thought (however you may define that as a subject) should be in curricula, I think, one should realize and every day not forget that one is human, one is conscious, one is aware one is conscious, and can. take. action. You can decide and take steps towards, e.g., becoming a Somali pirate, or a New Zealand goat-herder; becoming less angry at things of no direct consequence to yourself, or fully controlling your emotions, their ultimate intensities; thinking through your current life situation, where you'd want to be, where you'd not want to be.

I dunno, man, but calling it empowering is like calling electricity 'shock-y'. No. It's the difference between being given an unfungible, irrefusable movie ticket to the 2.1/10 movie named "Life" starring (You), feeling every moment of it without ever noticing the all millions sitting beside you, nailed to their seats with canvas tunnel-vision (never mind, they're doing it most likely to distract from the fact, the cinema's built on a mound a bones so high, Everest's pale cheeks would crimson); and looking around, picking a better seat (continually so according to current scene), or chatting up some other awake anon, or going to the concession stand.

You can even decide on how you'd like to leave the theater, if you so choose.

on diet

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My story I was diagnosed with type-1 diabetes mellitus 2011-01-29. It is an autoimmune chronic, i.e., for life, disease known to man for at least 4000 years, wherein the beta cells in the pancreatic Langerhans islets are targeted by your very own T-cells. Their destruction results in zero-to-no insulin production in, say, 1&dnash;2 years, as evidenced by declining to 0 C-peptide. A small group of Hungarian doctors, who run a clinic focusing on autoimmune disease, cancer and other things curable/fixable with return to proper diet, have published, as far as I know, the few documented cases of newly-diagnosed type-1 diabetics being immediately put on a strict ketogenic diet with ratios close to those of standard one for epileptics, with monitoring for long-ish monitoring, i.e., beyond honeymoon phase (wherein insulin need decrease exponentially for some month(s)- around within 1–1.5 years of start of treatment), with beta cell annihilation slowing down, though not ceasing, and with non-adherents getting the bullet quicker.[1,2,3] Actually, in Dr. Bernstein's 34. Teleseminar he mentions that several kids and or newly-diagnoseds, who he's educated and gotten on the diet and lifestyle, have had halted their beta cell destruction by normalizing blood sugars. Apparently, hyperglycemia causes autoimmune attack of the beta cells as well in addition to all the other harm caused through the body.[4] Well, like Bernstein, like every other poor fuck with angry T-cells, I received the pediatric standard of care, which is leaps and bounds worse-r than dogshit. Without insulin, you'd live longer and more contently were to only drink water, than following any of their braindead, irrational '''advice'''. Big pharma, big food, big wheat, and big fucking religious fucking cunts should be hung publicly, drawn and quartered, broken on the wheel, stoned, waterboarded, crucified. Fucking hell, I hate what humans do to each other.

Anyways, I have learned nothing of value from any doctor, endocrinologist, diabetologist, cardiologist, neurologist, or ophthalmologist I've had contact with over the years. No-thing. Nada. Naught. Nil. Zilch. Fuckall. Calling them 'baboons' would be a deep insult to these 'lesser' primates. These complaisant, stupid mites—these '''people''' should be hung for their crimes against humanity. University and higher education is an often a self-contained shitshow of cosmological proportions, but when it seeps out—by, say, ill-educated drones regurgitating provably, objectively false information as 'medical advice' (and defending it via arguments to authority, popularity, naivety, and much, much more) to the general population—then, motherfucker, we have around a third of the major issue. The other two being current system of higher education, and the people themselves.

Anyways, a year and something in sticking to whatever they'd told me, unconsciously I was noticing things. After the honeymoon period, in which exogenous fast/mealtime insulin requirements sink drastically (possibly to 100%), already with an interest in science, I'd searched around the internet and came across the arguably single most valuable resource for a T1DM: Dr. Bernstein's Diabetes Solution, (crucial information/chapters are provided gratis on the website in the form of navigable html pages, if you would rather not pirate the book).[5] Bernstein's story is astounding: that of a child diagnosed with T1DM and living through the tougher years (he says in interviews he's the only diabetic from those days left alive, not to mention his top notch health; reminder: T1DMs, on average, live 10 years less), when insulin's discovery permitted longer lives with less suffering, later getting hit PhD in engineering and dropping out to go through med school and specialization as an endocrinologist/diabetologist to be allowed to publish his various findings from experimentation with himself over the years. At some 85 years, he is still active, has new patients, gets articles published, and is even on YouTube.[4] Type1Grit became a thing after 1–3 low-carb conference talks on T1DM: it's a facebook group with strict rules that is tight-knit, encouraging and helpful to T1DMs. I know of two papers comparing results from Type1Grit and a control, the standard of care.[6,7] I've never had any, nor needed any, support, and have always disliked top-down, communal things; fb is, and I say this with no humor, evil, and about as pernicious as cpp-funded reddit. The people you can meet there, could be invaluable to your health journey. Personally, I dislike all the emotional, communal, top-down shit, but if it works you, if it floats your boat, don't let me stop you. This last example is of a family with child going through the ires these same ires, albeit two-fold (I doubt it can perceive all the damage being done to it, let alone comprehend all the science behind it) or more, since they'd be feeling like impotent parents.[8]

Post-Bernstein, I saw significant improvements glycemic variability and value range, and general salubrity. These have, with the years, become better (albeit diminishingly so) with diet strictness and adherence . Various other health markers (in the standard T1DM bloodworks) also swam to the respective 'better' limit, up or down, of the reference range for normal, healthy individuals (not diabetics!). Docs be, like, Yo, dawg, I dunno wu'kindsa magic you be spinnin', dawg, but, so long's I gotsa do nuttin, you cool wid me, dawg. Lest I question them on important to me and my fucking life with this permanent fucking chronic illness details, the answer to which they cannot hope to fathom to guess at, my visits are prompt and pleasant. I'd read Steven Phinney's papers, and the resultant books from his work with Volek.[9,10] I'd come across Jordan Peterson as he was experiencing his 15' of internet fame. Them first did I get ac,quainted with carnivore diets, from his daughter's and his experiences with it.[11] Here are two other resources, one of a Navy SEAL dude turned doctor and spreading the word, albeit in a very American-y, annoying at times way, and the other very focused, proper way.[12,13] Low Carb Down Under and AncestryFoundation conference introduced me to many new ideas, information, things I hadn't thought of myself, and I'm most grateful for getting to think about exclusionary principles in life, in general (big X wants you to buy product, add more stuff to fix problems), e.g., 'carnivore' diet, and (intermittent) fasting, and plant toxicity.[14,15] Paul Saladino was a new-comer with his own story and journey, although he kinda became a shill and annoying, to me at least. He is very thorough with the science, however, look in both camps for all the best evidence, and isn't afraid to 'get technical' which might scare the lay.[16] His book includes many key citations, pieces of information, and is, I'd say, lay-friendly. What then for me then was new: archaeological and anthropological data, and studies on plant toxins.

As of initially writing this, I've been doing (mostly subconsciously) intermittent fasting for ≥18–20 h with one meal consistently for 3.5–4.5 y, and have been consuming (almost) exclusively animal products: meat, lard, butter, eggs, fish, some cheese for ≥6 y. Once a week I may have sugary dairy, and once to twice every season plant matter due to rare meals with others cohabitants, or pressure + exhaustion. They're accommodating usually to prepare separate no-carb food for me. If I lived alone, I'd not have any trash (food) in my household (like, back in the day); being among people, however, can be another stimulus: every second eyestabbingly reminding me of what happens when you're a comfortable, stupid fuck, replaying all the detrimental effects on your health, wealth, and on the country paying for the former. I easily recall the effects of every infraction, every misdemeanor, every 'try', or cheat, or anything wrong: be it a thin film over chompers, hour-long bloating, flatulence or loose stool, dehydration, bad mouth-feel, or just overall not-well-feeling... Being alone and conscious of one's duty toward oneself; and reminded of others' failures to themselves, their society and world grants me resolve to be strict (not 'uncompromising'—shit food doesn't lose any quality or quantity when you very one-sidedly forfeit to surfeit) and thorough. But getting back to some stability is easy, if you're smart.

Evantion from collective consciousness Both Nina Teicholz and, more technically and very deeply so, Gary Taubes, have massively contributed to uncovering the lies, ties, the billions of taxpayers' and industries' spent in advertising, 'studies', bribing and influencing, and elsewhere in this shindig.[17,18,19,20,21,22] Another big dick here is Tim Noakes, a South-African medical scientist and doctor, who has contributed greatly to sports science and African health. He got dunked into a shark tank over a tweet that caused no harm. His book with an independent journalist goes through his history and experiences with running and diet, the science of what he advocates and practices, and the court ordeal antebellum to its terminus.[23] A woman is blame for starting this shitshow—the match; but more so by avaricious, unscrupulous execs and lawyers—the tanker's worth of kerosene dumped atop the smolder. Belinda Fettke, whose husband was raked over the coals in Australia.[24,25] He'd stopped the progression of a specific kind of aggressive cancer within himself through carbohydrate removal and had thereby learned of many of the subsequent benefits thereof, had suggested the diet/nutritional advice to some of his patients (whose health afterwards improved significantly by stopped medication, forgoing amputations and surgeries he'd have to do, etc.) and some colleague shill taddled on him. She traces the plain, refined carbohydrate push to the seven-day adventist sect of Christianity: Kellogg's, Ellen G. White, and all following big cereal and big food companies. Regarding Ancel Keys, and government-subsidized and -sponsored propaganda, other nations following the US without doing the work or asking the important questions, 'Mediterranean' diets, big seed oil and big nut, big cereal, big pharma, etc., read/watch Teicholz's book/movie, read all books by Taubes.[17,26] Read, read, read.

Why it works for the 99.999% Well, if you can't digest protein, or have same rare mutation courtesy of your family prohibiting or hindering beta oxidation, then maybe not for you specifically. I know that there are veg* who some-fucking-how practice low-carb without withering and dying too much. But I take for extreme perversion of the case being made (it's actually been successfully implemented and carried out for millions of years...), as are attempts to substitute high-carb meals, e.g., any cake/bread/dough-thing/candy, with a low-carb version—wholly missing the point. You're feeding the wolf, the addict, deceiving your brain—it's nigh the same with artificial sweeteners (natural ones aught not be excluded: the stevia plant had one major sweetening chemical and the tens to the hundreds of derivatives—I assuredly do not want that amount of unresearched bioactives in my body).

The amount of people not: feeling better, experiencing major health benefits, having happier yet more bewildered doctors, are scarce or nonexistent. Given it's evolutionary history and anthropological findings, it should possible to ween some, say, 99.99% of all humans off of carbs, and get back to essentials, genetic abnormalities, mutations can, of course, make it unsuitable for some. Examples of elderly (>80–85 y) or middle-ageds abound, who have completely cut out or severely reduced up to 10 different medications for: hypertension, water-release, capillary perfusion/blood circulation, depression, anxiety, skin conditions, Crohn's, Alzheimer's, T1DM, T2DM, gout, bowel conditions, kidney stuff, appetite suppression, etc. Currently, there is not enough livestock to exclusively feed Earth's populace even inadequately. Nobody expects an overnight transition, but one over, say, 25–50 years is feasible.

Sustainability, etc. Putting aside that agenda-pushers—be it religdrones, 'activists' of any sort, member of any movement starting with a 'veg', corporate shills, and bribees—, have zero-to-no actual, substantive evidence supporting claims made (more strongly than we do). Inundation with predictable, pre-packaged propaganda—repetition of the same fallacies doesn't let me skip over them with eyes glazed, this ain't Orwell's 1984. But if you don't actively think, if you're comfortable, you'd at best agree (tacitly) and then go back to automaton mode, droning in this shit world.

Speaking of sustainability, according to vegans themselves, the average, let alone the median, of adherence for newly initiated is 1 year. The rest, whatever their reasons might be, visibly deteriorate, degrade, degenerate physically and mentally. Ample evidence of this exists on video-hosting sites. Veg* is not human-sustainable, and it's more tragic than humorous.

I would like to direct anybody interested in the discussion, argumentation, and refutation of claims most brought up the off to Peter Ballerstedt's YouTube channel.[27] He is a well-connected forage agronomist and is trying, and succeeding, in bringing together people from low-carb, animal producers/farmers, the wider public. The guests on his podcast are people most would never talk to, or see, unless you haunt cow-calf/grazing/forage conferences, and they provide valuable, indispensable even, information about soil, plants, ruminants, their interactions, dependencies, and so on. tl;dr, there isn't enough arable land on Earth to sustain whatever this hell is supposed to be called, there isn't enough usable water for continuing it, it's extremely damaging to the soil with restoration lasting into the decades, ruminants produce high-quality, highly-bio-available micronutrients and macronutrients in the form of meat, fat, and dairy, in proportions required by the human organism with the input of fucking grass. They also fertilize everything around. They also sequester more carbon than they excrete via burping and farting when managed properly. It's a win-win-win-win situation.

Conclusion So, if humanity is to be bettered at the breakneck pace of a petrified snail in heat, then not in my lifetime, but perhaps in the next 100–200 years will agriculture as a method for 'feeding' humans (and other animals incompatible with plant matter), and unethically or immorally, pathologically, hypocritically, superciliatorily making money hand over fist be abrogated, reducing significantly (say, 4–9%?) percentage of negative anthropogenic effects on Earth through mass-scale: carbon sequestration, topsoil restoration, biodiversity promotion, and reinstantiation of intricate but non-fragile co-dependencies between ruminants, flora, fauna, and humans.

A requisite would be a goodfaith within the majority, if not all, and—, not everybody being on the same page—, but at least a good myriad of the peiod in change, of the period in exploitation reaching some level of knowledge, reading some 100 key books, something like that. To have enough wits about themselves to stop themselves and those immediate to them from reaching for utopias. The latter, lit. ancient Greek for 'no-place'. Wishful thinking by adult-sized toddlers. Embrace hardship, seek knowledge and multitude perspectives, help yourself and then others—but don't fuck it up for everybody (yourself included).
Society all too often is prisoners' dilemma with the caveat that you only postfactum, if at all, realize this. Defeating all prisoners' dilemmas, that is, of all goodfaith players, is intractably difficult and daunting, if at all possible. Nevertheless, one should strive toward perfection or excellence, if only to grasp slight improvement of the shared lot of humanity/local society.

References, sources Majority of original citations are given in the presentations/channels or books referenced. I'm not digging all that up...

  1. A child with type 1 diabetes mellitus (T1DM) successfully treated with the Paleolithic ketogenic diet: A 19-month insulin freedom. Csaba Tóth, Zsofia Clemens. January 2016, International Journal of Case Reports and Images 66(1212):752-757. DOI:10.5348/ijcri-2015121-CR-10582
  2. Type 1 diabetes mellitus successfully managed with the paleolithic ketogenic diet. Csaba Tóth, Zsofia Clemens. October 2014, International Journal of Case Reports and Images 5(10). DOI:10.5348/ijcri-2014124-CR-10435
  3. www.paleomedicina.com/en
  4. Richard K. Bernstein YouTube channel
  5. Dr. Bernstein's Diabetes Solution: The Complete Guide to Achieving Normal Blood Sugars, 4. ed. Richard K. Bernstein. Little, Brown & Company. 2011.
  6. Belinda S. Lennerz, Anna Barton, Richard K. Bernstein, R. David Dikeman, Carrie Diulus, Sarah Hallberg, Erinn T. Rhodes, Cara B. Ebbeling, Eric C. Westman, William S. Yancy and David S. Ludwig. Pediatrics June 2018, 141 (6).
  7. How Low Can You Go? Does Lower Carb Translate to Lower Glucose? Carly Runge, BS, Joyce M. Lee, MD, MPH. PEDIATRICS Volume 141, number 6, June 2018:e20180957.
  8. Low Carb for Type 1 Diabetes. Justin Hansen, Julie Reid. 2016-09-11
  9. The Art and Science of Low Carbohydrate Living: An Expert Guide to Making the Life-Saving Benefits of Carbohydrate Restriction Sustainable and Enjoyable. Stephen D. Phinney, Jeff S. Volek. Beyond Obesity LLC. 2011.
  10. The Art and Science of Low Carbohydrate Performance. Phinney, Stephen;Volek, Jeff. Beyond Obesity LLC. 2012.
  11. Mikhaila Peterson site
  12. Amber O'Hearn YouTube channel
  13. Shawn Baker, M.D. YouTube channel.
  14. Low Carb Down Under YouTube channel
  15. AncestryFoundation YouTube channel.
  16. The Carnivore Code: Unlocking the Secrets to Optimal Health by Returning to Our Ancestral Diet. Paul Saladino, M.D. 2020.
  17. The Big Fat Surprise: Why Butter, Meat and Cheese Belong in a Healthy Diet. Nina Teicholz. Simon & Schuster. 2014.
  18. Good Calories, Bad Calories - Fats, Carbs, and the Controversial Science of Diet and Health. Gary Taubes. Anchor. 2010.
  19. The Case Against Sugar. Gary Taubes. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. 2016.
  20. The Case for Keto: Rethinking Weight Control and the Science and Practice of Low-Carb/High-Fat Eating. Gary Taubes. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. 2020.
  21. Why We Get Fat: And What to Do About It. Gary Taubes. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. 2010.
  22. The Diet Delusion. Gary Taubes. Ebury Publishing. 2008.
  23. Real Food on Trial How the Diet Dictators Tried to Destroy a Top Scientist. Dr. Tim Noakes, Marika Sboros. Columbus Publishing. 2019
  24. Belinda Fettke YouTube videos: URI, URI, URI, URI, URI, URI
  25. Belinda Fettke site
  26. Fat Fiction. 2020.
  27. Peter Ballerstedt YouTube channel
  28. The Cancer Code. Dr. Jason Fung. Harper Wave. 2020.
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iw: 20210514t183000

It all started with sinful, haram thought of cleaning my laptop keyboard after scratching with nail the dried, black sludge visible on some keys and most edges. Some 70% ethanol (acetone would dry quicker, but could react with plastics) solution and a cotton handful later, the keyboard was drenched, puddled. My working laptop, I'd only used slock to lock the screen to direct all unwanted input toward the unlikely combination of my password. To speed up drying, I used a hairdryer, to heat up the solution inside and underneath, hopefully evaporating it all.

Big no-no, for black plastic especially so. Eight molten letter later, I cottoned my mistake, took a hard gulp, thought through all worst possibilities and each of whose consequences and steps to take for fixing, breathe out, restart. Lo & behold, no key works. The seeping in panic is subsumed by knowing I can survive some of humanity's worst atrocities as have others; the harm I (can) issue myself, I can go through too. Better to sleep on it. Although, without reading material, or anything to do other than read Kolyma Stories on my kindle (all other books uploaded there were relevant to distant times, and I didn't feel like beginning a new one midnight). I wrote for 4 hours.

And slept for as much. 08:30, and some keys actually work. And still others are pulling not only their own weight, but that of nearby and faraway colleagues. Angry, I left it open to air out in the draft—stupidly I'd left the lid closed for the night. Stupidly, or again out of fury at myself. I rescheduled a planned walk for immediately. Weather was gorgeous. That pristine sky blue, stretching from horizon to horizon with gradient in shade (and other colors at dusk/dawn and sunset) shifting in extent with time I didn't reach my destination, had forgotten my map, but still. The cool 15km did me wonders.

Staring so much above the ignorant, frustrating, annoying, predictable, vapid 'people', as well as the many for that part of the city built and unused, ugly buildings (read 'money laundering') visually obscuring precious steradians of the day's firmament—my face burned. Temperate climate prenoon sun burns are now a thing, I guess...

Back home, once in 30' of jackhammering the same damn keys besides Delete the assumedly correct amount of times did I win the lottery of a successful login. Inside, the extent of my mistake further revealed itself—Space functions as return, making literally any input with standard IFS impossible. You see, c had 0–5 extras, z 0–1, / 1–3, but I'd sacrifice two thirds the alphabet for functioning mouse buttons (LMB was running the cursor down, which is some unknown to me key combination, since it's \033[n1 ANSI-escape-wise). I had my moment, but sans virtual keyboard I didn't know what I could do. Afterwards, no further password was accepted, and I did try. Even when certain by testing on the name field that input was proper, Enter could still be noncompliant, dropping a \[['|])_{QQ"_- before itself, and I wouldn't ever now.

Turned it off, another deep breath, decided to actually clean the damn thing, given reading wouldn't lend itself a person let himself to emotion. Disassembled Violated 95% of the keys apart, the amount of force might've been applied with improper leverage, or just too... Of the two scissoring plastic pieces holding the key in place, I'd broken both spikes on the one, which (I couldn't know) were inserted in the other one to function as a pivot—I hadn't printed out the W520 manual (something I still plan on doing!). So, say, 80% of those had 0, 15% had 1, and 5% 2. The other piece, a frame with two holes along the plane, was to 85% unbroken—the frame, the holes were not intact, or rather, they were extended to the outside accompanied by a frame bend.

Underneath all keys was the indescribable gunk, hair—arm, nose, eyelash, head, pubic—, food—crumbs, flakes, nuggets—, fingernail clippings, and sunflower seed hulls, you know, for good measure. These literal 2–4 handfuls of densely compacted into an thermoelectrically insulating, multi-colored, multi-textured fluff was extracted and disposed of. Definitely not gross but the aforementioned spring heat (thanks, global warming), and fine motor skill required for all the tasks coated my hands with sweat, which then mopped up. Meticulously scrubbed with a toothbrush, dusted, fanned, blew.

Two 90-minute hours of reassembly later, I'm an year older and I've learned my lesson to never clean anything ever again. Ever.
Do not, however, pass Go for. 98% of the keys input what they should. Space, Enter, g, h, do not. Even though it's a thinkpad, and nigh water-proof, it's not short-circuit-proof. They've yet to release those models out to the public. I could not log in. Today, some 40h hours later, the Lenovo service team told me: in detail how exactly I'd fucked up; that people take out even they BIOS's battery before doing certain work on computers; that spare keys and plastic mechanisms would not fix it. They looked up if any authorized workshop had a suitable keyboard of any language—I'd take moonrunes or blank keys at this point—, but You can try again in 2–3 weeks. The word 'order' was not uttered. I'll hope to find a secondhand one on ebay. Until then, I'll be using an external one. I wish I had an infrared keyb: a small box projecting light onto literally any surface...