So, Rank Match is coming to EN (in less than 12 hours as I’m writing this!). Maybe you’ve seen a few posts crop up on your twitter TL or randomly on this subreddit bringing up fear of cheaters. Maybe you haven’t and have only seen the ones saying “I’m no good, I’ll probably only languish in bronze” or something like that. But all the same, I think we need to treat with the topic.
Let’s talk about cheating. It’s rampant, and it needs to be recognized. It’s worth addressing. It’s worth keeping EN’s integrity as a server.
A little context, before I do: I'm a user from the community Sekai server (henceforth referred to as Sekaicord) linked on the sidebar. By habit, I am not a reddit user, and I apologize if this comes off too strong as a consequence. I understand this is a contentious topic, and I recognize that I might have perception bias if the only posts I see from here showcase the "worst" posts and not the actual "average" opinion on this — but, my impression is that, in general, this subreddit has a terrible track record when it comes to identifying cheaters, and an equally awful slate of defenses for their behavior. I'm writing this post not just to address some of these defenses, but also to open the conversation. The less we know about it, the less we can push the devs to take action on it. And likewise, the more we’re aware…
Some context for my viewpoints / experiences on the matter:
- I'm a Day 1 JP player, with 240+ Master FCs. I played EN from day 1 up until around Scramble, when the amount of external tiering drama got too much for me (and, if my handle on what happened during White Day is right, it hasn't gotten better). Level-wise, I’d be about Lv31-32 for FC skill and 26-28 AP-wise. Ask me for a handcam if you want. On Sekaicord I frequently talk to much better players — yes, even ones who can FC/AP 33+ songs (which are probably the most likely to get doubted). I asked a player with Lv34+ FCs (AMARA, 16bit, Intense Voice, Disappearance/END) to review this huge treatise before I wrote it out. I'm pretty confident as to their legitimacy and generally see some patterns that emerge as to why they are. I'll explain some of these here.
- I tend to give the benefit of the doubt to APs up to around Lv32 in the wild, but a lot of Lv33+ FCs tend to be more suspect for any number of reasons you can see from the co-op results screen.
- The atmosphere in Sekaicord around cheating is, as you can probably infer from my tone, highly distrusting. Cheaters are banned on sight once proof is established beyond doubt – so in fact, it surprises me that technically speaking, the rules on the subreddit’s sidebar don’t concretely penalize cheating!
But like many communities, it didn't start out like that. The dedicated gameplay channel was VERY happy to celebrate players' accomplishments (we used to have every 33+ FC pinned) and generally didn't ask for much proof — until Rank Match came on JP, and a player who we all thought was just insanely good got exposed (because JP caught and banned him). Here's the thing — he was a good player in his own right (i.e., Lv. 32+, but not good enough for the results he cheated), and the way he hid his results was much less blatant than some of the people later banned from the server for cheating, who… well, put in about as much effort as some of the cheaters that have been linked to me from here. This is how it goes for pretty much any community: break the established trust, and obviously nothing's the same afterward.
I will try to write this in such a way that it gives cheaters as few hints as possible on how to make their plays look more "legit"; I simply want to point out some of the common patterns that emerge when a cheater really is afoot (and which are never an issue for a legitimate player), and refute some of the more common defenses.
Another thing: yes, not everyone condescends to the level of some of these defenses I’ve written out. However, I’ve seen them appear enough in more or less these exact forms, unchallenged, that it’s worth quoting them in exactly the same way to give you an idea of what’s wrong with these viewpoints. This is not meant as a personal attack (moreso if you may have said something to these effects in the past); it’s simply an attack on the logic behind them.

DEFENSES:

(1) "Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just be that good? / Or maybe they're just that good?"
Statements like these are, to put it bluntly, passive-aggressive and condescending towards people who might have genuine grounds for suspicion. People weren't born yesterday; we're fully aware that people on the level of HPS, MaengZombie, nanoflower, REN, STK, SkisK… exist. (I've specifically excluded jack just because he's the low-hanging fruit and also to point out that if one’s only knowledge of a "good player" is jack, well… there’s a whole world out there).
But the reason people don't cast doubt on those players is because they have put in the effort to be deserving of that trust. Every one of the players I've mentioned has videographic evidence — YouTube, Twitter clips, the list goes on. They frequently compete to get world-first on APs, and they're well aware that if you do not have a video that shows your hands, your play means nothing. For example, tweets purporting to show world-firsts on Six Trillion Years and Overnight Story were, pretty much without exception, disregarded by JP players when the user was silent on the question of handcams.
(The first recognized AP of Six Trillion Years is from SkisK , at 1d 1h 19m after release.)
(A little aside: JP players can be pretty ruthless about cheaters. From the official JP Discord, I passed by this message of someone posting a Yaminabe AP tweet with no proof on release day and was (not) surprised to see a slew of X-to-doubt reactions -- and, as with the tweet above which I had to resort to Wayback Machine to show you, it was later deleted presumably after getting called out.)
I also want to be clear on this: this also means that a player you don't expect CAN come out of nowhere and stake their claim on an achievement, as long as they have the proof to back their claim up. Here's a good example: the maxed score on Arcaea's hardest chart, Testify BYD, was achieved by a player (005saikou) who otherwise wasn't known for any other world-firsts! And — you guessed it — he had an annotated video to back up his claim, commenting on which parts he thought was hardest, and other peculiarities of the chart.
There's a common counterargument to (1) that goes something like
(2) "Well, maybe some people just don't want to show their hands / dox themselves / don't know how to record / etc."
Let's do this point-by-point.
2a) "...don't know how to record / not everyone has a second phone or camera to record handcams with..."
The trial-and-error process required to reach the level of play we're talking about 99% demands the ability to record, review, and rewatch your play. Even if you're not going to post it, you almost certainly will have tried it at some point on the road to 33+ just for your own "where did I go wrong?" purposes.
This argument is also an insult to the intelligence of a player; recording ISN'T EVEN HARD. Recording is built-in on iOS. Recording on Android is as simple as typing "screen recorder app" into Google Play Store (or its equivalent, for Xiaomi and other no-Google builds) and downloading the first free option that doesn't have ads every 0.1 seconds. While screen recordings are less trustworthy than handcams because, well, you can’t see what the player is doing in order to get that result, they’re trustworthy enough in conjunction with players who, besides a recording, can talk about what, why, and how they do what they’re doing (more on this below).
As for handcams, please don't be intimidated by the fact that most well-known YouTubers have professional-looking, crisp 1080p setups: even a grainy 480p view is enough as long as it's clear you're not pretending to mash away while a bot automatically PERFECTs the 220BPM portions of Intense Voice. Google "handcam setups", or DIY one by cutting a slit at the top of a cardboard box and pointing a camera lens down while you play from the bottom (my preferred solution). I have seen players who record themselves using cheap $20 webcams not even clipped to anywhere stable, players who ask to borrow a family member’s phone or camera for a paltry five minutes… anything to be honest! For as many cheaters I’ve seen accused, I’ve also seen nearly as many people who put in the effort to be honest, which deserves a good mention.
Just about every case I know of someone who wasn't a cheater was willing to provide a handcam of some sort. It doesn't matter if they took 30 minutes, five hours, or three days — they came back and defended themselves. I've even seen it on the EN discord! The first instinct of a cheater, by contrast, is to either stay completely silent and let other people do the defending for them, or to get extremely defensive and use some of the many arguments here.
Incidentally, there are legitimate examples I know of of completely unknown players who pop up one day in Sekaicord with some godlike play, and the reason they were believed on the spot? Handcam.
2b) "...don't want to show their hands / dox themselves..."
I suppose nothing can be done about that, but on this point I'd like to point out that Sekai is hardly the first (and will not be the last) rhythm game community to have doubters. This is frankly small-time compared to osu! players doing this like it's a JOB. And that comes down to a fundamental truth about rhythm games: difficult skill-based achievements have always had value because people SHOW they can be done. Consequently, if there is no proof, there is no value; if you're willing to make an outrageous claim; you best be prepared to show some outrageous play, or risk it not being worth anything at all.
There are other ways to show you clearly did what you're claiming to that don't involve a handcam, mind you — but they involve knowing what you're talking about, describing the chart / your strategies in detail, and, well, generally a certain level of passion about the intricacies of the game that most cheaters don't really seem to have, because they're only really here for the one fleeting shot at attention (mentioned this above already; skip to “spotting cheaters” below if you’re curious enough to know how).
Moving on…
(3) "But they posted a recording of…"
Let me be clear on this point: I personally (and many others) are not wondering if they photoshopped a rainbow clear diamond on a song; anyone can do that in three minutes. I am also not wondering (and do not care) if someone has a recording of themselves scrolling through a list of songs with a shiny line of rainbow diamonds, because that doesn't really mean anything if they cannot demonstrate the ability to repeat it (and that a bot didn't do it for them). On this point, most players aren't so letter-of-the-law obsessed as to demand a recording of a re-AP (understandable: players like Mita Kousuke take months even to get a singular AP on What's up? Pop! and there's no guarantee the perfect moment will be caught on camera for most players) — I (and many others) just want to see a level of play that reasonably LOOKS like they can do what they’re claiming to have done. Put simply, I really just want to see someone’s fingers dancing where the notes are landing, not their hands flailing miserably against the glass screen while a bot does the actual playing.
What would "reasonable" look like? Take a look at the Mita video as an example. While he lists some of his current personal bests at the top, you'll find that the majority of these streams are him failing, sometimes incredibly early, sometimes amazingly -- but the overall level of play is high. Players who've just finished with a feat from the night before / day before / two hours / 30 minutes before don't "rust over". A few hours' rest (if necessary) for exhausted hands is almost always enough to show something approaching legitimate if the player in question is legitimate -- again, no one's asking for a second AP.
(4) "You're just jealous!"
And? So what if I am? Since when was emotion a valid reason to stop reading and avoid the possibility that even people driven by emotion can make valid points? But part of why this argument is unusually effective is because most aren't aware of the common patterns that drive cheaters, and so valid arguments are often dismissed as being down to jealousy if you're not aware of why some of these defenses for cheaters just don't stick.
Part of why I shared the context of where I come from with this was partly to dispel this argument. I've long since accepted that there are people much better than me, and I want to explain why people (who don't necessarily have that chance) react the way they do towards cheaters without resorting to ad hominems like this.
But never mind me. If me potentially being jealous is enough to discount it at my sub-33 skill level, then would you believe the distaste for EN cheating if it came from the world-first AP on Kusaregedou to Chocolate? Incidentally, I assure you he's got nothing to be jealous of: after all, he's going to Tokyo for Spring CS and rubbing shoulders with HPS and the rest of the Sekai gods.
(5) "It's just a game, why would anyone cheat on Sekai?"
If you've ever heard a variation of the common schoolyard boast (or jokes about it) "my dad works at Nintendo / Game Freak / Activision / [insert AAA video game company here]", the answe is: it’s for exactly the same reason immature people have lied since the dawn of society — attention and self-esteem. Of course they gain nothing from this, it is just a game, after all — but kids literally lie just to win arguments as petty and easily-forgotten as those in a schoolyard. Why would Sekai be the first skill-based game (of many, many rhythm games out there) immune to this?
(6) "It's just a game, calm down lol"
I genuinely struggled to write an answer to this without getting a bit irritated; I’ve seen this so many times in so many places for so many wrong reasons. But what’s wrong with being passionate about a game? What’s wrong with wanting the pastime you settle into after a stressful day of work or school to be a fair playing ground? Why shouldn’t a game be taken seriously when competitive PvP games fuel multi-billion industries, have university scholarships, and round-the-clock teams and sport scientists analyzing them, and ignite the passions of people just as intensely as any “traditional” sport?
“Because that’s esports, and this is just Sekai”? Here, tell me you can’t feel the room shake when Mita APs Brand New Day live on stream.
What’s wrong with being passionate about something in the same way others, you included, are passionate about things besides Sekai – enough to be offended if someone said this exact same thing to you? What’s wrong with wanting fairness for one thing and not another?
(7) "Trust the cheat detection!"
I hate to have to say this, I really do, but automated cheat detection for EN is TERRIBLE. It might not even exist. As evidence I'd like to point towards some of the more infamous cheaters: the T2 for Mesmerized by Mermaids in EN. There are some pretty damning threads from long-time tierers that have explained the point in much more detail than I could eloquently say. Now, this exact cheater was defended by someone using the exact same argument I'm about to reply to, and it's just as fallacious now as it was then.
Allow me to explain exactly why "trust the cheat detection" doesn't fly.
- T2, as the threads I've linked demonstrate, was clearly botting, and did so for the entire week the event ran. So why didn't the supposed "cheat detection" pick this up? Why was T2 allowed to play all the way until the EVENT ENDED? Why was the event title AWARDED to T2, denying the T4 (nara) the T3 as a result?
- The appeal to authority argument particularly disgusts me because of one thing: JP has had its own issues with cheaters of a different nature: those who share accounts so that they can tier 24/7 with no downtime. The example I know of is from Unnamed Harmony: not only did they outright admit to account sharing (and insinuated that the t2 who lost was probably also cheating), they weren't banned. I use JP as an example for this reason: JP, which actually, proactively bans botters in Rank Match, still has cheaters that are left completely alone. How then, can you expect EN to have better scrutiny when even botters need a public outcry and a LOT of angry support desk mails just to get one T2 banned? (oh, and come back, and get that account banned too, and admit to committing about 7k euros worth of chargeback fraud…) No offense, but EN can't even herd its official discord channels together; how am I supposed to believe they have time for botters?
T2 Mermaids is hardly the only example there is — only the most notorious one. But if even the cases of people high enough to be in the ranking spotlight take so much effort to call out (no thanks to people spouting uneducated defenses and convincing enough people), how much more botters who just roam the wilds with all perfects that show with 0 notes hit?
Put another way: why use a tiering cheater as an example for skill-based cheating when tiering skill boils down to whoever has the stamina to slap Envy for the longest time? Answer: they use the same tools. The person running around with an EmpErroR AP in public rooms may be doing it to show off, while a tiering cheater may be doing it so they doesn’t lose sleep or struggle the same way their competitors do, but the means are (almost) always the same: a machine does the work for them. And if the game isn’t banning one of them… how can you be confident they’re banning the other?
“Well, that was months ago! They’re better now, I hope!”
The proof is in the pudding. If you’re right, then I’d be happier than anyone else.

SPOTTING CHEATERS:

Besides the whole "they get really defensive" / [insert argument above] things listed above, there are a few more tells that really go a long way towards sniffing out a cheater, and I'd like to go over some of them here (since they didn't really fit naturally into the counterarguments presented above). I'll skip over directly critiquing their results in the case that a prospective cheater reads this and takes notes on how to avoid getting caught.
Now, a little disclaimer, for fairness: most of the posts I’m aware of don’t actually involve the cheaters themselves risking getting caught on here, and so the uses for such red flags may not be easily applicable. But all the same, they go hand-in-hand with the (fallacious) defenses for cheaters, and it’s important to know what you’re looking for when someone inevitably comes here asking why they got banned (for “no reason”) assuming EN is any trustworthy when Rank Match hits.
Keep in mind: each of these ALONE does not mean someone is a cheater — it's when red flags like these, ALONG with refusing to provide videographic proof, come together, that someone becomes more and more suspicious.
(1) Unrealistic timeframes for improvement
Let's not mince words here: the highest levels of Sekai are HARD. As in, it competes with "pure" rhythm games like Arcaea, Lanota, Phigros, Cytus, Dynamix, CHUNITHM, maimai, ONGEKI… levels of hard. Sekai itself is unusually hard for a popular rhythm game (sorry Tokyo 7th Sisters, no one knows you) with funny PNGs you roll and pay for, in a market where the closest competition (and therefore most people's previous frames of reference for existing difficulty) is Bandori or Enstars. And, well, no offense… but Bandori doesn't have six Hell or Hell SPs (and it took THIS long to release the 33+ specials…) and a release schedule that promises more every three months, like we're getting with Yaminabe and Jinsei. As for Enstars? Two years to release Awakening Myth and Seishun Emergency SP (and they’re only roughly as hard as ~32lv. Sekai charts).
What this results in are cheaters who grossly underestimate the time needed to get to Sekai's highest level. You might hear things like "i was up all night / week / month getting this omg my fingers are so tired". To use an example from sekaicord / experience: most players who commit to the improvement grind tend to find that they'll improve really quickly from 26 to 30 — and then hit a major wall at Lv31, where the difficulty then spikes exponentially. The average time it takes legitimate players to go from Lv31 to 32? Six months or more. 32 to 33? You'll be lucky or just insanely good if it takes you six months.
Anyone claiming to be the exception to this pattern, put simply, needs the proof. People are willing to believe someone’s good if they can see someone play good.
(2) Not recognizing patterns when questioned
An actual story about a banned cheater from sekaicord: they claimed to have AP'd Don't Fight the Music on Master, and immediately fell through when people started asking them about patterns from other charts, including Hibana and KING. The issue? They were told that those patterns were from Don't Fight the Music. This is pretty much self-explanatory: you'd at least be expected to know the charts you're claiming to have beaten!
But besides that, people who have pulled off such feats (hell, pretty much anyone) always has a devil of their own. Everyone has That One Pattern they find, and which they hate. And if you're a devilish enough little Pattern (hello Greenlights / Bitter Choco Decoration), you'll be so absolutely evil that everyone will know you, not the other way around. Someone who picks out a pattern that is pretty obviously free to someone actually at that skill level OR doesn't have a least favorite pattern at all tends to stink from a mile away.
(3) Low-quality / vague explanations and/or misuse/lack of terminology/jargon
A common trope in TV shows, video games, and so on is a smart character (usually a scientist) who launches into a convoluted explanation with a LOT of jargon you're not supposed to understand, before a character stops them and says you're making my brain hurt. While silly, this trope has some basis in the fact that people who are good at something tend to be really passionate about it, and often won't hesitate to explain in a lot of detail exactly how they pull off what they do. The same almost always goes for rhythm game players — it's common for people who have just conquered a chart in sekaicord to follow up their FC / AP screenshot with a long-ass postmortem of the parts they hated the most, the strategy that finally got them through it, and pretty much everything in between.
As a cheater, it would be pretty difficult to emulate this. There's no adrenaline rush as you get through the part that you've been struggling on for weeks, possibly months, no sitting down staring at a chart viewer cursing the disgustingly hard part, no detailed "L-R-L-R(index)-R(middle)" big brain strategy just to pass something extremely cursed. There is nothing to explain. Most often, you will get "i was just shaking throughout it's all so hard", "uhhh i just mashed as hard as i possibly could" “go watch a video instead of bothering me” without reference to a specific pattern, and almost no way to describe their solution in terms any reasonably practiced regular would be familiar with. Did you jack this part here? Two fingers or multiple? Is there a BPM divisor that helps you get the rhythm down on this?
Let's go back to the 005saikou Arcaea example I mentioned earlier. Pretty much anyone at that level will have thoughts about their own achievements, and which parts they found hardest to conquer; look at the pinned comment (translation of the CCs) on his Testify video and see just how detailed they can get. I'm not saying everyone has to get to that level of detail, but someone with practically nothing to say about their achievements AND no video either is a serious red flag.

A brief conclusion

Why I took the time to write all of this is pretty simple: I would very much like if people were more aware of the players they're defending who don't deserve to be defended. Not only are there legitimate players out there much more deserving of your attention, but there's also a glut of illegitimate ones out there cruising along with the potential to make Ranked Match completely unplayable if we're just going to sit here and pretend it's not a problem. Perhaps you’re thinking it’s not going to be a problem for you if you only stay in Bronze / Silver / Gold / Plat. Good for you, but then that leaves Diamond and Mastery completely unplayable wastelands fit only for people who jump onto sites-that-shall-not-be-named for modded apps. Pretty much every time I talk to a JP player about EN and the prospect of ranked match, I universally hear back the words “cheating” and smell the implication that there’s no point to even touching it. There’s already so few legitimately skilled players on EN (let alone those who aren’t simply imported / previously JP players) and the last thing EN needs is to drive those players away.
Genuine question: If the playerbase is capable of raising enough of a stink to get an entire event memory-holed out of existence (I have not forgotten RMD), please tell me why it's not possible to push the devs to take action on people who will undermine the legitimacy of an entire game mode? It's easy enough to ignore if you're just running around co-op getting event points and can forget about someone who's not playing the game, but in a game mode whose basis is a fair and even competition between two players, surely there's some reason to get them to do something.
Call me jealous, salty, misguided, whatever you want, but if at the end of the day this post has you thinking a bit more critically about why people can be so suspicious of others (and why it's more legitimate than just jealousy), then writing it will have been worth something. Please, don’t throw these words by the wayside, and keep a more critical eye out for the people you meet, be it in ordinary rooms, on social media, or, well… on Ranked Match. If you could do something about RMD, you can do something about cheaters.
If you’ve gotten this far, thanks for your attention and time.

My dad is an extremely self-centered, emotionally abusive, manipulative serial cheater. Think Trump as small-town pastor.
I no longer attend church, and I haven’t even seen my dad in over five years bc he wrecked my wedding when I didn’t make it enough about him.
My sibling and I have been low contact for about 10 years, but more and more I’ve been contemplating going no contact and telling him exactly why.
My sibling made the point that we already only speak with dad maybe twice a year, and that’s often through socials. Why rock the boat when the fallout will be such a pain in the ass.
But what bothers me is this pretense. It feels dishonest, like I’m pretending my father is not a fucking monster.
Any advice?

Long story ahead.
It started when I was just a kid. I'm in my mid 30s now, but that's when it started. I'd like to preface most of this with an obligatory, to the best of my knowledge, I'm not making any of it up. Whatever definitive knowledge I think I've got is based on speculation and heresay. Nothing has identified itself at all, let alone directly. For my own sake, and the sake of related parties I'm going to edit all names from the story(ies). Especially since I'm not using a throwaway or anything. This is going right up on my personal account. I fabricate or hold back nothing this time. Ill be doing my best to cultivate as much accurate information as I can remember, but I'm getting old and don't remember as well as I used to. I can't even tell you how genuinely I consider religion, supernatural whatever, all of it to just be some stuff made up by white men to continue on with the patriarchy. I don't buy into ghosts or any of it.
It started as shadows. The feeling of being watched. My childhood wasn't that great, it was full of physical and emotional abuse from my mother. We lived in my step father's own childhood home, so it wasn't haunted by any ancient ghosts. It was a dark place though, with their history already blotting the air with it's thickness.
I guess before I really go on, I should explain that, too.
My step father was twenty something years older than my mom. So he was in his fifties during my teen years. He wasn't bad, he wasn't great. I guess technically speaking he was a bad step father. We didn't have much of a relationship, let alone a even bad "fatheson" one.
The home itself was an old New England starter home. It was small, as far as modern houses go. Three bedrooms total. One bath, a large basement spanned the entire length and width. By the time we had met him and moved in, he had already mostly paid the house off, buying it from his own parents. Outside of four years in the coast guard, He, his brother, and older sister had all lived there(while they moved away, he stayed)
Their family dynamic was dated, and weird. His mom and dad were the type to call each other "mom and dad" respectively. His sister, even after joining the navy and marrying an officer was required to maintain a joint bank account with her dad so he could have uptime decision making. She had her own creepy qualities when we'd visit. She collected Barbies, never opening them. That in itself isn't weird. Hell, I collect action figures myself. But she had a voice for some of her favorites, and they'd talk amongst themselves if she was in the room. My Step father's brother, was actually an inventor and invented something I can't remember anymore. He wasn't Bezos rich, but had a nice house in Florida when we'd visit. Mom and Step dad both always warned me though to be careful. He was on a lot of drugs.
My Step father himself was a weird man. He was never taught hygiene. And he was never really nurtured or loved, and unfortunately it showed. He didn't know how to do those things, either. He was a nice guy, but had no idea what to do from there. He grew up in the fifties, and as a kid, I just imagined that's why he was the way he was. From a different time.
The legacy of their combined tragic legacy lived on in a ghost that I do believe was in the realitively new house. We lived there total for twelve years with him, however the time is broken up into two different six year stints. Half way through, my mom for whatever reason, moved us out. We lived in a one room efficiency apartment together for exactly one year, before they reconciled and moved back in together. While we were moved out - we adopted a stray cat. Well, he adopted us. We actually found him the very first day we left him on our own. He was a white cat, nearly completely blind. He was just outside our motel door. We took him in with us. He was actually great. We named him Doofus, because he was kinda fun and goofy. He stayed with us the entire year departure, and was reluctantly allowed back with us.
My Step father was a dog person. Awkwardly so. He loved his dog(s). To the point where I'd still say he more made out with them, as a form of affection. It wasn't okay. I'm sure of that. Let me clear something up, while I say all of these negative things about him. It's not like that. While we don't have any sort of relationship now, I believe that's more us both healing from my mother more so than each other. But anyway, let's keep going!
Within a year after introducing the new cat into the house, he had himself quite the affinity for the basement. It was cool in the summer, and kept itself warm enough to be down there without freezing in the winter. It was my home base as a teenage boy in the late 90s, early 00s with AOL internet access. Doofus would often lounge around, and we'd leave him to his own devices while down there. He never disappeared and always came running when we'd shake his bowl of food. That first summer back though, we were, even my step father was, convinced he had worked his magic on a neighborhood feline friend, and had a litter of kittens down there. It wasn't the mousy cries of fresh babies. Certainly a meow that wasn't his though. We thought maybe he had found his way into the walls, or was simply stuck. Inevitably one day it happened with him fast asleep on his window perch in the kitchen. Finally my step dad fessed up what comes to be an important story.
When he was a kid, himself and his younger sister, found a cat. They, with some kind of sitcom understanding of how the world works, brought it home and tried to hide it in the basement to keep. Their father found it and brutalized the animal to punish them and simply disposed of it like it was nothing.
I can't stress it enough how… from that point on, things changed. The meowing from the basement stopped. Forever. It never happened again. However I never felt alone down there again, honestly.
I want to take another brief intermission to point out that at the current point in my life, I've been in therapy and anger management both. I haven't spoken to my mother in over seven years, and I'm barely any contact with my family at all. I had a very good therapist that helped me through my trauma with my mom as a child that continued into adulthood. Most of the information I'm going to share here, and continue to share here are things that modern medicine and science have since explained away. Sort of. I didn't just feel not alone while in the basement of my childhood home anymore, I felt actively pursued. Someone wasn't just always watching, they wanted to be known. I also started to experience night terrors that felt lucid.
I eventually moved out as soon as I could, and moved to Florida. Unfortunately my abusive mother followed. However, years passed from there. Through circumstance, I maintained a relationship with her. I was young and dumb, and didn't know how to set or enforce boundaries. Anyway.
Fast forward to my mid 20s. I had just ended a long term relationship with what was essentially my first "real-life" girlfriend. Things went sour the way things do when you're young, and I ended up moving back in with my mom and her now new husband. It was a very short stay, but while there I fell on hard times with my health. That's where the story here really takes an interesting turn.
Their house wasn't just bad, it was absolutely the worst. It was literally just a shack. The way some of those poor places in Florida are really like. I was home alone. I did have my own private bedroom. It was small, couldn't even hold my bed and the dresser. There was no door. It was an old curtain pinned to the outside wall. The illusion of privacy. It all went from easy enough to explain, to outright bonkers that day.
I was in bed. Doorway clearly visible. The sheet had been pinned to the space above it so it stood open for me to come and go easily. In the doorway was a teenage girl. Shoulder length brown hair. Conservatively dressed, yet modern. She didn't speak. It was over. She was gone.
The same girl came to me two or three days later, same setting. Just standing in the doorway. She seemed far less relaxed. Even agitated. She was holding something but I couldn't make out what. Whatever it was just wouldn't manifest, but it was important to her. Whatever that item was I can't help but feel like it'd all make sense now, but who knows. She stayed for nearly a full five minutes, fidgeting eithcthecitem before leaving. It was only a couple of more days before she came back again, but wasn't alone. An older man. Older then I was at the time, at least. He seemed like her father. They were bickering and fighting about something and she, in her tantrum disappeared. But he stayed and said nothing to me. He made no motion or charades. He did however glare at me this empty, menacing eyes and then vanished.
I didn't see the girl again until the night before I moved out. By this point, I had been drained of the small savings I did have. I was literally starving. Stealing food from Walmart just to keep myself going. I had aloowedcmy mother to drain me of everything. The apparition came to me that night, and the sensation was different. She glowed a warm orange tint. it felt like we were together forever. She still never spoke to me, but shared knowledge. She told me things about myself I didn't know yet. Actual, real life things that wouldn't come to fruition for over a decade, but they have indeed come true. Not even as a warning. It was a parlor trick to prove her abilities to me. I didn't see her again, for nearly 12 years.
It was last year she came back. I wasn't startled, she communicated like we were old friends. By just, giving me the information. I had probably six or eight months prior to that, reconnected with an old friend. The girl told me matter of fact my, "reach out. They aren't okay." Which was weird because we were talking mostly daily at that point again. I knew things weren't perfect but not being okay raised alarm bells. I reached out to find out their dog had passed just that morning. Again not a huge flex of their ability, just enough to keep me hooked.
I was bewildered at this point. I knew nothing of psychics or spirits or demons. Outside of what I seen on TV of course. I didn't even believe in that shit, but I love reading and learning.
Because of the history with my newly rekindled friendship, it was actually my childhood crush - the love of my life. That was actually the context of us becoming friends again. I wanted to work on fixing the things between us so we could be there again. The situation felt ripe by description for either Dr. Phil, or Lilith. Though I didn't know what that was even supposed to mean.
My own research and learning has brought me here, to you. This sub. This long story of ghost cats, and dark places, the meddling of what I thought was Lilith, but I believe to be something else entirely.
You see I've reached out to the girl who manifests. She hasn't been back, but I can still feel her around. So I've worked up the courage to confront her. I ask for identification, and my ears fill with this droning white noise and it'll eventually tell me that shes Lilith, but I'm not convinced. But from the difficulty in expression, neither are they. I believe it's something that latched onto my belief at first of it being Lilith and won't let up on that. I do believe it's "male" in nature. Has a knack for tricks, and knows that pretending to be something it isn't is bad for him, so he's trying to keep it under cover. I also don't think it's here to help me in any capacity. It clearly wants something either from me, personally, or is trying to use me as a vessel.
I think something masquerading now as Lilith has been involved in my life from the house I grew up. It didn't leave me alone, it learned to be less obvious and scary outright. But it's here. It's always here.

Honestly I'm just so drained right now. It feels like as a family we're drowning in life and there's no time. I have a son born in July 2020 and also have a daughter born in September 2021 (our kids are 14 months apart). My husband works full time and then usually has to bring work home. He works 7:30 to 5:30. He'll then go to sleep around 11 and wake up at 2-4 and work for another 3-4 hours on work. I work part time for the job I used to do full time and hate it. I work from home and it's IMPOSSIBLE to find the time to get the hours in. As a side hustle to pay for all of the kids expenses and for our yearly vacation I sell children's clothing online. My son goes to daycare 2 days a week for socialization and both my son and daughter have a little gym class once a week (each), my daughter has a swimming class, and my son has a music class. They get so much enrichment out of these classes and love going to them. I try to take them to the zoo or library on fridays our free day. Our families live at least 2 hours away or more and we feel like an island. I try to work during nap times or at night but I've been falling behind and missing deadlines and I'm at risk of losing the part time job. My house cleaning has fallen more and more behind to the point where I'm stepping on laundry in the laundry room. The kids have been sick on and off for what feels like months. We're struggling to have any type of escape from the stress and it feels like it is just so relentless and crushing. We're trying to get ahead financially, but it feels like that's not happening any time soon. We have outgrown our house because we don't have an attic or basement and I'm desperately trying to find a way to fit us all in without a crowded home. Give the kids room to play and us to live. I'm not sure why I'm making this post, but honestly today was just the straw that broke the camel's back. My son gagged on a fig newton bar walking into school and vomited the bar up in front of the principal's office. I had to spend 15 minutes cleaning that up. On the way home, my daughter who gets car sick vomited in the car and I had to wash the backseat and her car seat and give her an extra bath. We have two shih tzus (1 is 3 years old and the other is 2 years old), Our girl Arya has extreme nervousness and I finally got talked into trying her out at our groomer where we take our other dog. We took her in November and again today to get her used to the process (just a nail trim and bath). The groomer came out when I came to pick her up and started telling me how unacceptable it was to go five months between seeing her and that if I couldn't commit to taking her every four weeks, then she would have to go to a vet and get her sedated for grooming because she is so anxious. Here's the thing, we wouldn't do that, we have been scissor cutting her hair when needed ourselves. It's so time consuming that I was hopeful this could be one less thing to do. But $80 extra dollars a month is even more of a strain and I was so upset that it felt like she was shaming me for neglecting our dog and not taking her all along. There's so much else in our lives, but it just feels like we're surviving less and less each day. I've had a lot of losses right after my July baby was born and we feel crushed by life. Today just feels like a hard place to be in. I don't know how people do parenting? Our kids are 2 and 1.
​
Edit: Just now I got a message from my child's daycare saying he has had diarrhea twice and if he has it again it's their policy to send him home for a week.

Today is the repeat of the workout from the 5th of March.
Tread Block 1 * 90 sec base to push * 90 sec push * 90 sec push to AO * 30 sec AO
Tread Block 2 * 30 sec push * 30 sec AO * 1 min WR * 30 sec push * 30 sec base * 30 sec AO * 1 min WR * 30 sec push * 1 min base * 30 sec AO * 1 min WR * 30 sec push * 90 sec base * 30 sec AO
Tread Block 3 * 30 sec AO * 30 sec WR * 30 sec AO * 1 min WR * 30 sec AO * 90 sec WR * 30 sec AO
Floor Block 1 - 5 minutes * 2 rounds circuit: * 10 total x TRX alligator * 10 x TRX kneeling rollout * 10 total x alt deadbug with press * Row until time is called
Floor Block 2 - 16.5 minutes * 3 rounds: * back to back: * 12 total x alt lateral lunge * 12 x hammer curl * 12 x neutral grip shoulder press, rest * 12 total x alt lateral lunge to hammer curl to neutral grip shoulder press, rest * 200m push row (24 - 26 strokes / minute) * Repeat until finisher: * 12 total x high plank to alt side plank * 12 x hollow rocks * Finisher: Member’s choice of 30 sec of alt lateral lunge or hammer curl or neutral grip shoulder press
DC commentary (click to reveal): >! Happy hump day, only a few more sleeps until dri-tri! I hadn’t done this workout before since we were in Japan for the first time this came around. Pleasantly it is a nice power day on the treadmill and a bit of a shoulder and bicep burner on the floor. \ \ On the treadmill you have a short buy-in block to get your paces up - five minutes of a progressive push to all out. The next block is a bit longer and plays around with 30 second pushes and all outs with a bit of base in between. The last block is just four 30 second all outs with a lot of walking recovery. Nice day to play with your push and all out speeds. I managed 5.38km (3.343 miles) in the tread block this morning. \ \ On the floor you also get a buy-in round. A few TRX exercises and then a row for the remainder of your time. The longer block is a killer though for your biceps and triceps. Endless rounds of lateral lunges, hammer curls and shoulder presses before you stitch it all together for your compound move. Complete three rounds of this (with a short 200m push row) and maybe you will get some time to do the core movements (not many members got to this point) with the high plank to side plank and hollow rocks. Your finisher is even more of the weighted moves. I think I will be feeling the shoulder work through to this weekend. \ \ Liked the template this morning though my shoulders may not agree later today. I give today a 4 (🪶 🪶 🪶 🪶) out of 5 for gentleness. !<

Sgsflair 1: here --- 90+ Confirmed Trades
Sgsflair 2: here --- 15+ Confirmed Trades (no longer updating)
PayPal region is US.
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Leave a comment first before PMing or I won't respond
March 2023 Choice:

• Jurassic World Evolution 2
• Hero's Hour
• Demon Turf

February 2023 Choice:

• Fallout 1
• Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous
• Othercide
• Shady Part of Me
• Scourgebringer
• Fobia - St. Dinfna Hotel
• Five Dates

Survival Instinct:

• The Long Dark: Survival Edition
• SCUM
• Starsand
• State of Decay 2: Juggernaut Edition
• SurrounDead

Fighting Farmers:

• Forager
• Kitaria Fables
• Re: Legend
• Serin Fate
• Spirit of the Island
• Stranded Sails - Explorers of the Cursed Islands

In Case You Missed It: Gems of 2022

• Haiku, the Robot
• PowerSlave Exhumed
• Source of Madness
• Submerged: Hidden Depths

January 2023 Choice:

• Encased: A Sci-fi Post-Apocalyptic RPG
• Grow: Song of the Evertree
• Hokko Life
• OlliOlli World - RAD Edition

Black Friday VR Voyager's Pack:

• A Fisherman's Tale
• Acron: Attack of the Squirrels
• Car Mechanic Simulator VR
• Cook-Out
• The Curious Tale of the Stolen Pets
• I Expect You To Die
• Sairento VR
• Shooty Fruity
• SUPERHOT VR
• Until You Fall
• The Wizards - Dark Times

November 2022 Choice:

• Hell Let Loose
• Kingdoms of Amalur: Re-Reckoning - Fate Edition
• Shadow Tactics: Aiko's Choice
• Unmetal
• Morbid: The Seven Acolytes

October 2022 Choice:

• Disciples: Liberation
• Epic Chef
• Railroad Corporation

Starlight Children's Foundation Games:

• Day of the Tentacle Remastered
• Full Throttle Remastered
• Grim Fandango Remastered
• Pinball FX3 DLCs
• Star Wars - Knights of the Old Republic
• Star Wars - Knights of the Old Republic II - The Sith Lords
• Star Wars - The Force Unleashed Ultimate Sith Edition
• Star Wars Jedi Knight - Jedi Academy
• Star Wars Jedi Knight II - Jedi Outcast

Valiant VR Bundle:

• Budget Cuts 2
• HARD BULLET
• VTOL VR

2K Megahits Bundle

• BioShock: The Collection
• Borderlands 3 Super Deluxe
• The Golf Club 2019 featuring PGA Tour
• Mafia: Definitive Edition
• PGA 2K21
• Sid Meier's Civilization VI
• WWE 2K Battlegrounds + Ultimate Brawler Pass
• X-COM: Ultimate Collection

LEGO At the Movies Games:

• LEGO Marvel's Avengers
• The LEGO Movie - Videogame
• The LEGO Movie 2 Videogame
• LEGO Ninjago Movie Video Game

September Choice Games:

• Just Cause 4: Complete Edition
• Crown Trick
• Shapez + Puzzle DLC

August Choice Games:

• Emily is Away <3
• Gas Station Simulator
• Omno

July Choice Games:

• Legend of Keppers
• Lawn Mowing Simulator
• Yes, Your Grace
• Atom RPG Trudograd

High Tier:

• 7 Billion Humans
• A Game of Thrones: The Board Game
• Amnesia: Rebirth
• Arizona Sunshine
• BATTLETECH
• Beyond Blue
• Cook-Out VR
• Crawl
• Dead by Daylight
• DMC: Devil May Cry
• ELEX
• EVE: Valkyrie - Warzone (removed from steam)
• Fable Anniversary
• Gears 5
• Generation Zero
• Gods Will Fall - Valiant Edition
• Golf It! x2
• House Flipper
• Hurtworld x2
• Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes
• Kerbal Space Program
• Kingdom Come: Deliverance x2
• Kingdom Two Crowns x2
• The Long Dark
• Marvels Avengers: Standard Edition (might keep)
• Metro Exodus
• Monster Hunter: World
• NASCAR Heat 5 + Playoff Pack
• NASCAR Heat 5 + Ultimate Pass
• No Time to Relax
• Pistol Whip VR
• PGA Tour 2K21
• Phoenix Point: Year One Edition
• Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid
• Project Winter
• RPG Maker VX Ace x2 + lots of DLCs (just ask)
• Rubber Bandits
• Saints Row: The Third - Full Package
• Scythe Digital Edition
• Starbound
• Swords & Souls: Neverseen
• SYNTHETIK: Legion Rising
• Team Sonic Racing
• theHunter: Call of the Wild x3
• Totally Accurate Battle Simulator
• Trailmakers Deluxe Edition
• Trover Saves the Universe VR
• Universe Sandbox
• Vacation Simulator VR
• The Walking Dead: Saints & Sinners
• Warhammer Chaosbane: Slayer Edition
• We Were Here Too
• The Witness

Medium Tier:

• 112 Operator
• Battle of Polytopia Deluxe Edition
• Beyond the Wire
• Car Mechanic Simulator 2018
• Carcassonne - Tiles & Tactics
• Desolate
• El Hijo - A Wild West Tale
• Endless Space 2
• Endzone - A World Apart
• Genesis Alpha One Deluxe Edition
• GRID 2019
• Heliborne - Collection
• House Flipper VR
• Huniepop
• Imperator Rome
• Killing Floor Incursion
• LEGO Batman 2 DC Super Heroes
• LEGO Batman 3 Beyond Gotham Premium Edition
• The Lord of the Rings Adventure Card Game x2
• Memories of Mars
• Never Alone
• Overlord: Ultimate Evil Collection
• Primal Carnage: Extinction
• Quest Hunter
• Rebel Galaxy Outlaw
• Ryse: Son of Rome
• Skullgirls 2nd Encore
• Sonic & All Stars Racing Transformed Collection
• Sonic Lost World
• Space Crew: Legendary Edition
• Splendor x2 + The Cities and Strongholds DLCs
• Star Wars Squadrons (Origin key)
• Street Fighter V
• SUPERHOT
• Townscaper
• Trine 2: Complete Story
• Ultra Street Fighter IV
• Victoria II
• Warhammer: End Times - Vermintide Collector's Edition
• Warhammer 40,000: Gladius - Relics of War
• We Happy Few

Low Tier:

• Act of Aggression - Reboot Edition
• The Battle of Polytopia
• Book of Demons
• Brawlout
• Bridge Builder Racer
• Call of Juarez: Bound in Blood
• Close to the Sun x2
• Detention
• Dirt Rally
• Dungeons 3
• Enslaved Odyssey to the West Premium Edition
• Espire VR
• F1 Race Stars Complete Edition
• Fell Seal: Arbiter's Mark x2
• Fling to the Finish
• Full Throttle Remastered
• Guns, Gore, and Cannoli
• Icewind Dale: Enhanced Edition
• Iconoclasts x2
• Legends of Keepers: Career of a Dungeon Manager
• The Letter Horror Visual Novel
• Lucius
• Magicka
• Mordheim: City of the Damned x2
• Out of Space
• PAYDAY 2
• PixelJunk Monsters Ultimate + Shooter Bundle
• Quiplash
• Rise of Industry + 2130 DLC
• Rise of Insanity
• Sheltered
• Shift Happens
• Small World + Cursed DLC
• Sonic and SEGA All-Stars Racing
• Sonic the Hedgehog 4 - Episode 1
• Sparkle 2
• Supreme Ruler The Great War
• Tannenberg x2
• Tools Up!
• Tooth and Tail
• Total Tank Simulator
• Traffic Jams VR
• Tropico 4 Collector's Bundle
• V-Rally 4
• Vanishing Realms VR
• Vikings - Wolves of Midgard
• Voidigo
• Worms Rumble
• WRC 7 FIA World Rally Championship
• Yoku's Island Express
• Yooka-Laylee

Very Low Tier:

• AER Memories of Old
• Ageless
• Alien Breed Trilogy
• All You Can Eat x2
• Archangel Hellfire - Fully Loaded
• Ballpoint Universe - Infinite
• Between the Stars
• Broken Age
• Combat Wings: Battle of Britain
• Crookz the Big Heist
• Crowntakers
• Crusader Kings Complete
• Deadly Days
• Deployment
• Detached
• Dino D-Day
• Drawful 2
• Earth 2150 Trilogy
• Enclave
• Endless Space - Collection x2
• Enforcer: Police Crime Action
• GoNNER
• GRIP: Combat Racing Artifex DLC x2
• Hiveswap Friendsim
• Homeworld Remastered Collection
• I Am Not a Monster: First Contact
• Imperial Glory
• In Between x2
• Iron Fisticle
• Jagged Alliance 2 - Wildfire + Classic DLC
• KnightShift
• Knights of Pen and Paper 2 x2
• Leisure Suit Larry - Manga Cum Laude Uncut and Uncensored
• Leisure Suit Larry 1 - In the Land of the Lounge Lizards
• Leisure Suit Larry 2 - Looking for Love (In Several Wrong Places)
• Leisure Suit Larry 3 - Passionate Patti in Pursuit of the Pulsating Pectorals
• Leisure Suit Larry 5 - Passionate Patti Does a Little Undercover Work
• Leisure Suit Larry 6 - Shape Up Or Slip Out
• Leisure Suit Larry 7 - Love for Sail
• Love Letter x2
• Magicka
• Men of War
• Milky Way Prince - Vampire Star
• MirrorMoon EP
• Mugsters
• Murderous Pursuits
• Newt One x2
• Nimbatus - The Space Drone Constructor
• Off-Road Drive
• Oh My Godheads
• One Finger Death Punch 2
• Overload
• Overlord II
• Overruled
• Pac-Man 256
• Pesterquest x2
• Porcunipine
• Realpolitiks
• Rebel Cops
• Rebel Galaxy
• Regular Human Basketball
• Save Jesus
• Septerra Core
• Sir, You Are Being Hunted
• Starcrossed x2
• Star Wolves 3: Civil War
• Steamburg
• Sudden Strike Gold
• Super 3-D Noah's Ark
• Swords of Gurrah
• Table Manners: Physics-Based Dating Game
• Tacoma x3
• Talisman: Origins
• Teleglitch: Die More Edition
• Tempest Pirate Action RPG
• Tropico 3 Gold Edition
• The Uncertain: Last Quiet Day
• Warlock - Master of the Arcane
• World War II: Panzer Claws
• World's Dawn
• Xenus 2 White Gold
• Ylands Exploration Pack DLC
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK HEADRUSH
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK MOVIES
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK SPORTS
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK TELEVISION
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK Vol. 1 XL
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK Vol. 2
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK Vol. 3
• YOU DON'T KNOW JACK Vol. 4: The Ride

Want:

• PayPal (US) -- Priority
• TF2 Keys
• Sacks of Gems
• Steam Inventory Gifts
• Wishlist
• Game offers I plan on claiming

This story may be a bit long, but I want to make sure I have all the details right.
On a recent weekend during a bike ride I nearly got Right Hooked by a Pickup Truck.
"Whoa whoa whoa!!!" I yelled while panicking and trying to grasp my brakes from my handpositions (I have drop bars but my hands were at the tops) and finally came to a stop before I collided with the bed of the truck or worse.
Either in anger or as a part of me stopping myself from crashing, I recall slapping the side of the truck. The driver than stopped and began saying something, but at that point I decided it was best not to engage and just continue straight down my path. All I heard as I was riding away was "My fucking tru-" and kept going.
Nervous I tried to keep an eye out for in case this driver decided to re-engage with me out of road rage, but two blocks later and after a red light with no reappearance I figured they continued to their destination.
Halfway up a hill I noticed from my left peripheral vision a vehicle suddenly stopping and immediately unclipped from my bike, turning and faced the same truck stopped besides me. Immediately I reached into my left pocket for my pepper spray (which I keep on my person always for dogs and people).
Perhaps noticing me reaching the driver stated "Hey, I'm not chasing you down trying to start a fight or anything."
Hand still in my pocket I relaxed a little, but was preparing myself for on the off chance this man changes his mind and decided he does want a fight.
"I just wanted to apologize for almost hitting you, I mean you did hit my truck which I kinda understand, but I'm trying to be better now and just wanted to say 'sorry'. I don't think you really hurt my truck or anything".
Realizing that this guy wasn't going to exit from his vehicle to confront me, I decided to remove my hand from the left pocket and displayed my open palm.
"I didn't damage your truck, it was just an open handed slap on it. Thanks for your apology, I appreciate it. Have a safe trip back home".
The guy repeated his apology and wished me the same, then drove off ahead. I decided to wait back a little for he got caught at another red light, after seeing him clearly turn the corner I began to relax a little and continue my trek uphill.
----------------------------------------------------
This whole incident really spiked my nerves but I'm glad this incident of road rage didn't end up like the ER Doctor last month in LA. I usually try to not verbally say anything to antagonize a motorist beyond a simple "Hey!" to grab their attention during a close call. But I honestly am not sure if I slapped their truck as a part of me stopping or just in anger of a close call.
But this is a good reminder to always and try to de-escalate a situation on the road to increase the likelihood of getting to your destination w/o injury or death. Just wanted to post this here to inform the rest of ya'll to try your best with de-escalation as well as situational awareness while on the road.

This story may be a bit long, but I want to make sure I have all the details right.
On a recent weekend during a bike ride I nearly got Right Hooked by a Pickup Truck.
"Whoa whoa whoa!!!" I yelled while panicking and trying to grasp my brakes from my handpositions (I have drop bars but my hands were at the tops) and finally came to a stop before I collided with the bed of the truck or worse.
Either in anger or as a part of me stopping myself from crashing, I recall slapping the side of the truck. The driver than stopped and began saying something, but at that point I decided it was best not to engage and just continue straight down my path. All I heard as I was riding away was "My fucking tru-" and kept going.
Nervous I tried to keep an eye out for in case this driver decided to re-engage with me out of road rage, but two blocks later and after a red light with no reappearance I figured they continued to their destination.
Halfway up a hill I noticed from my left peripheral vision a vehicle suddenly stopping and immediately unclipped from my bike, turning and faced the same truck stopped besides me. Immediately I reached into my left pocket for my pepper spray (which I keep on my person always for dogs and people).
Perhaps noticing me reaching the driver stated "Hey, I'm not chasing you down trying to start a fight or anything."
Hand still in my pocket I relaxed a little, but was preparing myself for on the off chance this man changes his mind and decided he does want a fight.
"I just wanted to apologize for almost hitting you, I mean you did hit my truck which I kinda understand, but I'm trying to be better now and just wanted to say 'sorry'. I don't think you really hurt my truck or anything".
Realizing that this guy wasn't going to exit from his vehicle to confront me, I decided to remove my hand from the left pocket and displayed my open palm.
"I didn't damage your truck, it was just an open handed slap on it. Thanks for your apology, I appreciate it. Have a safe trip back home".
The guy repeated his apology and wished me the same, then drove off ahead. I decided to wait back a little for he got caught at another red light, after seeing him clearly turn the corner I began to relax a little and continue my trek uphill.
----------------------------------------------------
This whole incident really spiked my nerves but I'm glad this incident of road rage didn't end up like the ER Doctor last month in LA. I usually try to not verbally say anything to antagonize a motorist beyond a simple "Hey!" to grab their attention during a close call. But I honestly am not sure if I slapped their truck as a part of me stopping or just in anger of a close call.
But this is a good reminder to always and try to de-escalate a situation on the road to increase the likelihood of getting to your destination w/o injury or death. Just wanted to post this here to inform the rest of ya'll to try your best with de-escalation as well as situational awareness while on the road.

[Chapter 1] ;[Previous Chapter] ; [Discord + Wiki] ; [Patreon]
​
Chapter 107 – A Patron Saint
​
“[…] with the leadership of many territories claiming that the muted response to the thread is once again a blatant showing of the Community-Leadership’s clear bias against Deathworld affairs. Loratexach Echtsesimm, the current leader of the united Lachaxet territories, even went so far as to call it, quote: “A kick to the face for all those of us seeking to live in a peaceful unity.” Meanwhile other deathworld groups, like the occupants of the only known Class V deathworld, the Ligormordillar, are trying to quell the conflict and urge their fellow deathworlders to make a measured response, pointing to the lack of any concrete evidence when it comes to the recent events, and asking to give authorities a bit more time to investigate things. However, the accusations of corruptions that emerged in the last quarter have many people questioning how much the current Acting Galactic Council can truly be trusted with the investigations, and calls for the addition of independent investigations are becoming louder,” an Urounaek news caster professionally read off the seemingly endless lines of texts on her teleprompter, while b-footage of recordings of the sitting governments of a diverse number of species played in the background. “Surprisingly, humanity, the largest accuser of corruption in the Galactic Council as well as a front runner in the proclaimed fight for the extended rights of people and especially deathworlders that feel ousted by the Community, and also one of the Myiat’s currently closest military allies, have so far made no official statements or press-releases about the incidents, apart from damming the attack as a violation of intragalactic law as well as the laws of war.”
James passively allowed himself to be doused by the white noise of the TV that Shida had basically been glued to for the last days while he checked through his messages and mails on his phone and laptop. Of course, any of his addresses and contacts that had at some point been public in some way had been absolutely bombarded with a torrent of spam, threats, offerings, accusations, and even more spam. It was a daunting task to sift through all of the messages in an attempt to pick out the few of them that could possibly be useful every day, especially since those were extremely few and far in between, however, he still did it. On the one hand, he did it because he felt that it was his duty to leave nothing untried, no stone unturned, and no resource unused in these dire times they found themselves in. On the other hand, it was a quite time- and labor-intensive yet still comparatively easy task that he could easily waste away hours with without feeling like he was being unproductive.
Of course, all the really important messages he received would be forwarded to him through his more secure contacts that just select people had access to, and therefore the things he did find in his private messages were usually rather menial in comparison, however it was still something.
His hopes of not feeling so left out and abandoned anymore now that shit had thoroughly hit the fan had sadly been short-lived, as it quickly became clear that any broadcasts and statements to the outside world when it come to the topic at hand would be made by actual diplomatic professionals and not by-circumstance Ambassadors that had basically stumbled into their role.
…Which was honestly fair enough, James had to admit. Certainly, people who did this for a living had a much lower chance of screwing everything up and making things even worse than they already were than he did.
However, that did little to quell the nervous and anxious energy within him that just begged to be released in some productive way.
“While official governmental replies are being released by the hundreds by individual species, many collaborative political groups have also proclaimed their intentions to react to the current tensions caused by the attack on Dunnima. For example, many order-collaborations have been sending out invitations for emergency-conferences to possibly discuss a united reaction and collaborative measures to help ease the Galactic Tensions between their members; among others, the collaborative councils of the Tetsudines, Psittacines, Corvids, Hymenoptera, Canines, Skitellifera, Estotsucuvae, and Primates will be gathering within the week to discuss possible measures. Additionally, for the first time in about 12 uniform years, a recently founded, provisional ‘council of deathworlders’ is also inviting possible participants to a first conference, after having reportedly struggled to find an adequate venue for such an event for a few uniform months. This council is the thought-child of representatives of the Lachaxet, Ligormordillar, Roosh’gaack, and Teracheponn territories, who are now trying to get representatives of as many deathworlds as possible to take part in it, claiming it as an important step towards future collaborations between the so-designated worlds and people.”
“I wonder who they’re going to invite,” Shida commented as she tensely leaned forwards and absorbed the news with great concentration, her ears opening widely to not miss a single detail. Inside, she was just as rearing to go as James was. But just like him, she was also bound to the orders they were being given.
So far, they had both not been called in to reinforce the fleets that were either stationed to more intensely control the borders of their own unified borders or sent out into the cosmos to reinforce the myiat’s defenses after the first attack. However, the military base in Lorraine that they had been staying at for a while now had certainly become a lot emptier ever since the attack, leaving basically only instructors, very fresh recruits and essential personnel behind. And themselves, of course.
The constant tramping of boots outside of their doors had been replaced by an eerie emptiness, and their regular trainings-sessions that they had along with other occupants had also run dry, as most of the people on a similar level to them had received orders to move. And working with actual trainees didn’t exactly have a lot of appeal to it either.
“They have plenty of options,” James mumbled while his eyes flew across rows and rows of recently received mails, going back hour by hour that he had slept while sifting through piles and piles of junk.
Finishing off with the mail-service he had used during his Uni-days without having found anything of note, he then switched over to the next tab, where he had opened his miraculously still not out of service work-mail that had been assigned to him during his in hindsight very brief time of working on the G.E.S.-32.
He had no idea why exactly it was still in service, but as long as he received messages to it, he was going to check them, even if so far, this had by far been the least useful of his addresses when it came to receiving any messages of actual note.
And indeed, it was once again basically all junk.
Spam, a death threat, a very angry email from a former coworker, spam, more threats, a clearly fake solicitation from some firm he had never heard of, some news-channel trying to get an interview with him, spam, another news channel, spam, even more threats, spa-
He paused for a moment as his cursor hovered over a mail he had apparently received about five hours ago, that had the very brief and uninformative title of
“You are invited.”
Usually, he would’ve almost instantly disregarded it as clearly some form of spam, however after what he had just heard on the news, it made him raise an eyebrow and quickly check the address it was sent from.
Lifting the eyebrow even further as he saw an actual, official government address, he clicked on the mail to open it up. Slowly, his eyes read over the neat lines of text that had been revealed to him, his eyes getting wider and expression becoming more confused and disgruntled by the moment.
Was this a joke?
“What’s up?” Shida asked, apparently having noticed his expression changing, and just as anxious to do something as he was, she immediately stood up and walked over to him to glance at his screen while her tail swiftly flailed through the air. “One of the threats getting too personal?”
James shifted his lips as he gathered his thoughts to reply.
“No, I was invited to one of those conferences,” he said, and his eyes quickly double-checked if this invitation was actually addressed towards him and hadn’t just accidentally landed with the wrong person by some sort of blunder.
Shida glanced at him in mild confusion, her yellow eyes scanning over his face while trying to read his thoughts from it.
“The Deathworld one? That’s not surprising, is it?” she commented with a flick of her ears, before pressing up to his side a bit closer so she could lower herself in a position that would allow her to more easily peek at his mails. “Not only are you a deathworlder, you’ve also been a pretty public figure when it comes to the public fight for more rights. Hell, you probably inspired them to found that whole thing in a way, so of course they want you along for the ride.”
James scoffed slightly and turned his screen so she could look at it.
“Well, if it was that, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said and waited a second for Shida to read, seeing her face also slowly turn into a more confused one as she realized what the invitation he had received was for, before he added, “But this is from the council of primates.”
Shida looked at the message for a little longer before turning only her eyes towards him.
“What the hell do they want?” she asked with clear distrust in her voice. James just shrugged.
“A trap? Appeasement? Publicity? Options are numerous,” he said with an exhausted exhale before switching the tab yet again to log into his ‘professional’ mail services, copy-pasting the text of the invitation before forwarding it to a pre-prepared list of people that should probably be informed about this.
Shida hissed through her teeth and stood up straight again.
“Are you going?” she asked, crossing her arms and glancing down at him.
“If I have a say in this? Absolutely,” James replied after hammering the ‘send’ button. Anything to get out of here and do something at this point. Besides, it would probably give him the opportunity to give some people some serious stern talkings to. “Buuuuut you know how this goes.”
“We should keep an eye open who else might get invited to something,” Shida commented after acknowledging his reply with a huff but not responding to it. James nodded. In his periphery, he noticed how Shida’s fingers were starting to dig into her arms as her grip likely inadvertently tightened, and he reached out to rub his hand against her side, wordlessly aiding her with relaxing.
“They have plenty of options,” he repeated his earlier statement as he opened the invitation one more time.
“You are invited.
James Aldwin, Ambassador of Earth by community tradition, you have been officially invited to the emergency conference of the council of primates. Given recent events, the council has decided it is imperative to coordinate a response among the members of our esteemed order.
As humanity has so far not had a representative in the council of primates, it has been decided to extend an invitation to you for this conference. This invitation officially grants you access to the venue on Nedstaniot-Station and makes you eligible for a support-fund covering the traveling costs for you and an accompanying group of up to ten (10) companions of your choosing.
Should you accept this invitation, please contact us under one of the council of primate’s official addresses to receive access data to the necessary accounts as well as a detailed plan of the venue and scheduled events.
Should you not accept this invitation, a message of your declining is not strictly necessary, but always welcome to aid in planning.
I hope this message finds you well and am looking forward to possibly meeting you at the venue.
Sincerely
Klanneifer FF of the Tiasonko.
Success to you!”
Well, if they weren’t going to regret that…
​
--
​
Alexander clutched the necklace around his neck tightly as he looked into the mirror, taking deep breaths to quell his nerves.
Yes, he was nervous. Extremely so in fact. He thought that he would be excited previously, but now that the time had come, he could feel only the nerves.
Well, maybe that was understandable. Something like this really didn’t happen every day, after all.
“God, give me strength,” he prayed silently with his hands clutching the symbol of his faith even tighter.
Then, he took a minute to, one last time, check if his hair was in place and his robes were immaculate. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself on an occasion like this, after all. His own blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror sternly. Scrutinizing. As if he was judging himself. And he should. After all it was a big day. Taking a moment to judge oneself was important in moments such as this, lest you get complacent and started to make the wrong choices.
Soon after, there was a knock at the door.
“Father Mokoena is beginning his sermon, Alexander,” a muffled voice said from the other side. “You should be ready for when you are called upon.”
Alexander exhaled deeply and took one last look at the mirror, his gaze wandering from his own eyes down to the pendant around his neck.
“I’m on my way,” he then assured the Brother waiting outside, before stepping away from the dresser with a flourishing movement of his robes.
As he stepped out of the cloakroom, brother Anders slightly bowed to him, before stretching out a robed arm to guide him in the right direction. The brother was of the older sort, yet he had held his body in a shape worthy of a temple. Thinning and greying rose-blond hair did little to distract from that, as his wide frame could easily be spotted even through the loosely fitting robes.
A man of devotion in more than one way.
Alexander moved in a slow and measured way, his head held high, as Brother Anders guided him through the branched and tight back hallways of the old theater that they were holding today’s sermon in. As they got closer to the stage, Alexander could already hear the booming voice of father Mokoena as he addressed the masses from his place on the stage. It was no microphone he heard there, no amplifiers or other speakers. Only the impeccable voice of a devoted preacher.
Despite his age, the man had pipes like the largest organ, and still he was speaking at a volume that Alexander wasn’t used to from him. Inhaling deeply, he swallowed for a moment. Hopefully the people would even be able to hear him when he spoke. He certainly couldn’t bellow like the father could. Then again, this was a theater. Maybe his voice would be carried further by the acoustics than he anticipated.
It was rare for him to speak in a place like this, after all.
For a moment, Alexander thought about houses of faith. All the temples, churches, mosques, synagogues and whatever else he had visited throughout his life. Their large, marbled halls. Their magnificent decorations. The instruments and loudspeakers and all the other tools they were equipped with for impressive…performances.
That is what he had always called them. Performances. All those people just playing at faith while all they truly worship was their own selfishness.
And yet here he stood in the backrooms of a theater, watching as a father Mokoena gave a sermon on a literal stage and waiting for his cue to join him in the spotlight. What ironic twists fate could take.
The theater had been the most sensible option of a place that was for rent for one night and also held enough seats for this many people to come together. Still, he wondered if maybe they should have swallowed the tougher pill and looked for something else. For his liking, this was a bit too close to making a mockery of the event. The ‘houses of God’ may have been a sinful sham, but was this really much better?
Still, what was done was done. And while reflecting on past mistakes was certainly a virtue, getting stuck on them was most decidedly not. They were here now, so they would use what they had.
He and Anders finally came to a halt right at the side of the stage, hidden behind the large, red curtain that could be used to cut the stage off from view. Of course, today, it would stay wide open for the entire time, allowing everyone to witness.
“Are you nervous?” Brother Anders quietly asked him, leaning in close to whisper so there was no chance of his voice leaking out and disturbing the Father’s sermon.
Alexander smirked in slight anxiousness.
“Of course, I am,” he confessed honestly. “It’s not every day you get to make proclamations this weighty…or enemies this powerful.”
“Are you afraid of them?” Anders then asked with an almost pitiful look at Alexander, who sighed deeply.
“Of course, I am,” he confessed yet again. “I’d be a fool not to be.”
The task before him was grand, and his foes, in a way, even grander. There was a reason that the realized that had plagued Earth once upon a time had taken the name of heaven’s general for itself. They were powerful. And they knew it.
And that was not even mentioning the force of Earth’s armies, that could turn against them on a whim of fate. Masters over the forces of nature. The undisputed leaders of destructive power. Those who had managed to best such a powerful being before.
Yes, he was afraid. But overcoming fear was a virtue as well.
Meanwhile, the sermon was starting to whip up into a louder cadence, as Father Mokoena seemingly began to introduce the important part of the evening.
“[…] Many years has he studied and prayed and silence, following the will of our Lord by standing by and reflecting. Keeping humble. Keeping modest. And he has developed into a fine man of faith. Eighteen years of serving and studying under our faith, hidden away in the dark and obscure, waiting for the event that would catalyze his becoming! Now it has finally come. And with it came the time for him to step out into the light! Please welcome with me, oh children of the Lord, our newest ‘Guide’! Guide Alexander Paige!” the Father loudly announced and lifted his arm in the direction of where Alexander still stood out of sight. The bald head of the dark-skinned man reflected the spotlights above while his modest robes swung around from the energetic movement.
Meanwhile, Alexander took a deep, calming breath.
“Best of luck, Guide Alexander,” he could hear Brother Anders next to him say, and he respectfully bowed to the man before advancing out of the shadows and into the light.
His eyes narrowed strongly, and he had to resist the urge to lift his hand in order to protect them from the blinding light that now blared down on him. Of course, he did his best to keep his respectful and reverent expression before the Father, however he wasn’t quite able to entirely resist the pain of the rays stinging into his sight. Still, he advanced with quick yet collected steps all the way up to the side of the Father.
“Don’t scream,” he told himself as he prepared his throat for how loud he would have to talk to be heard in a place such as this. The lights were so bright and the rest of the room so dark that he couldn’t see those listening to him, but he still knew they were there. Hundreds of them. Another failure of this chosen venue. He couldn’t even see the faces of those that would listen to his words. How could he claim to speak to them if he couldn’t even look them in the eyes?
Well, it was too late now.
“Thank you, Father,” Alexander loudly announced as he had finally reached the man, and he did his best to talk as loudly as possible without it escalating into shouts. It was hard to gauge how far his voice carried in this room, and he silently prayed that he would be understood.
The Father then reached out his arm, offering his old, worn hand to Alexander. Alexander reciprocated the gesture, taking the Father’s hand with his right, while positioning his left underneath, pressing its palm up against the father’s wrist. Meanwhile, the father lowered his left onto Alexander’s wrist from above, holding his hand as if he was blessing it.
“Alexander!” Father Mokoena loudly greeted him, and Alexander almost flinched at the intensity of his voice up close. If that was what it took to be heard around here, then his own words would merely come across as a whimper. He truly hoped that the old preacher was just overdoing it with his enthusiasm. “You have finally found your treacherous sea, it seems!”
“Indeed,” Alexander replied and really just couldn’t measure up to the Father’s incredible voice no matter how he tried. What an impressive organ. “And I am prepared to guide my fellow men through it, towards safer ventures.”
“And the Lord shall bless your path!” the Father proclaimed, before taking his hands off of Alexander’s again.
“May the Lord bless your path,” a gentle echo came from the unseen crowd.
“And yours as well,” Alexander replied quickly, having almost forgotten to do so given the stressful situation.
The Father nodded deeply, before stepping away from Alexander and in front of the crowd again for a second, as he raised his arms high and declared,
“Tell us about your treacherous path, Guide Alexander, so we veer from it with you!”
Then, with another flourishing movement of his robes, he stepped back and aside, leaving Alexander basically alone in front of the many unseen eyes watching him.
Even after years of waiting, he wasn’t truly prepared for this. For the briefest of moments, he imagined just walking off. But no. He had to do this. This is what he had lived for. His entire life up until now had led up to this moment.
“I am telling you all no secret when I say that the recent times have been turmoil filled ones,” he began to speak, getting right to the matter at hand without any greetings or big introductions. The air around him felt heavy, and the room was so quiet whenever he didn’t speak that he could hear the lights above softly buzzing with electricity. The old wood under his feet gently cracked whenever he shifted his weight, and he was sure that it could be heard all the way up in the top rows whenever it happened. “As all of you who have come together here know, we stand in front of a huge danger. You do not need a guide to tell you that treading in the domain of a realized leads to peril. Such an affront needs no explanation on my side.”
He swallowed heavily, truly hoping that they had not all come together to hear him proclaim that he would guide them against the A.I.
That was simply no task for a Guide. Yet hopefully the others understood this as well and did not think that he was avoiding the threat in order to pick an easier mission for himself. After all, he would still gain its ire with his words, he was sure, even if it was not his declared danger.
Swallowing again, he continued,
“No, I am here today to talk with you about something else. About someone else. Someone whose words have touched many; and influenced even more. A man who was thrust into conflict against his will. Hurtled into the chaos, he fought, and the galaxy shook before him. A man known to the entire Galaxy obviously needs no introduction, but I would still like to take a moment to list James Aldwin’s achievements to give you a better picture of what I am talking about. Before his life was thrust into conflict, he used to dedicate his time to the improvement of life. He took some of nature’s gifts, and he used them to make new things that would aide people in need. Medicine was his claimed goal, and although he never got to reach that state, he had the clear intention to make life easier for many with his inventions, caring little for where they came from. Then, after his life changed for the worse, his focus shifted. Instead of trying to safe the ill somewhere in the future, he instead dedicated himself to saving people right here and now.”
Talking himself up into a bit of a frenzy, Alexander began to walk back and forth on the stage without even fully realizing that he was doing it. The blinding spotlights were still turning everything that wasn’t the stage into a dark, blocked out void. Night had been separated from day, and he was standing in the sun.
“He turned his focus onto those he thought to be like him,” he explained, starting to make wide gestures with his arms that caused his robe to move in flowing downward waves, embellishing his movements even further. “Those whose lives had been thrown into chaos through no doing of their own. Those born into it. Those ousted. Those who felt ‘othered’ by the world. The pariahs. He promised them acceptance, with little care for who they were.”
He then stopped his pacing for a moment to fully face the crowd, his gaze turning upwards so they would all be able to see it.
“Even when faced with one of our world’s greatest calamities asking him to take it in, he did not cave,” Alexander proclaimed, and he could feel himself tapping into potential of his lungs that he didn’t know he had within him, as his voice boomed throughout the theater. “Despite knowing of the danger in his path, he walked it all the way. Truly, what kind of man is it that will turn no one away? What kind of man who puts himself on the wayside to help others? What kind of man that cares not for who or how?”
“A Saint!” a booming echo came back from the crowd, and Alexander could feel the vibrations of their roar beneath his feet as it rolled over him.
“Indeed,” he replied to the people. “After seeing the path he walked, I say that his actions are worthy of nothing less than sanctity!”
A sound came back from the crowd that was hard to describe. It was neither jeering nor cheering, but something entirely in between. A deep rumble that filled the air with almost nonsensical noise as it escaped the mouths of hundreds of people who reacted to his declaration.
Alexander now lifted his arms in a wide arch, as if he wanted to beckon the crowd into an embrace.
“By the Ministry of the Church of the Failed Savior, bestowed upon me as your new Guide, I hereby proclaim James Aldwin as the Patron of Realized Sapience!” he loudly declared, and the noise of the crowd picked up in intensity.
He took a deep breath while letting the sound slowly fade out, although he didn’t wait for the people to be completely quiet before he let his arms sink again and continued in a milder tone.
“Sanctity is a dangerous path,” he said as he began to slowly pace along the stage again, this time with collected, measured movements. “The Saints walk it, and they invite all who will to follow. They do not warn them of the danger. In fact, they encourage all to face it. Proclaiming their path as the right one, they tell all who follow to not stray from it, no matter the danger. It is a dangerous thing indeed, such a Saint.”
He stopped again, but this time, he didn’t face the crowd. Turned to the side, he stared straight ahead, his eyes fixating on a part of the folded, red curtains while his mind went to a different place.
“Saint Aldwin believes himself to walk the right path, and nothing is holy to him, neither on Earth nor in Heaven, man made or God given, but that which allows him to follow it,” he said, still loud, but a lot more restrained in emotion. “He believes himself to be a protector. A shepherd. A…savior.”
This time, the jeering of the crowd was palpable, as the ground once again shook with it. Any sense of good will had disappeared from the noise.
Now, Alexander waited for it to completely die down. Calm and quietly, he stood there without moving a muscle for minutes on end while the sound gradually faded out.
Only when he could have heard a pin drop in the enormous room did he speak up again.
“As your new Guide, I promise to show you the way to the safe road. I promise to disarm traps and sweep away obstacles in your way. I promise to keep my sight on the destination, and to always point you in the right direction should you stay. And…” he paused for a moment to take a deep breath, before he continued louder than before, lifting his head high as he did so. “And I promise to veer you off the paths of all the Saints and Doomed to Fail Saviors who would have you walk with them into hell!”
A cheering broke out in the crowd, going so far that some of the people began to drum their feet on the ground in a wild, rhythmless thunder.
Meanwhile Alexander turned around to face the man behind him.
Father Mokoena had a wide smile on his wrinkled face as he walked back up to him, his hand extended. As they repeated the same gesture they had given each other earlier, the Father loudly announced,
“God bless your path, Guide.”
“Thank you, Father,” Alexander replied with a deep nod. “I am going to need it.”
After a moment, they let go off each other’s hands again, and Alexander wordlessly walked back off the stage, while Father Mokoena already loudly addressed the crowd again.
Behind the curtain just off the stage, Brother Anders was still waiting for him.
“A captivating speech,” the muscular man complimented him with a brief faux applause he hinted at with his hands, not actually clapping so he wouldn’t disturb the sermon. “But was that a reference I spotted in the middle of it there?”
Alexander scoffed at the man.
“All speeches have references,” he said while he passed the Brother, folding his hands behind his back as he went.
Anders looked after him in mild confusion.
“Aren’t you going to stay and hear the sermon?” he asked as Alexander was already disappearing away from the stage again.
“My faith is between me and our Lord,” Alexander explained as he shook his head. “My prayer does not need an advocate.”
No, instead of wasting time listening to a sermon of prayers that he could speak himself, he decided to instead use it to look after those who were in need of his guidance.
Walking back to from whence he came, he passed his earlier cloakroom and traversed the hallways all the way to a larger, much more open changing room, that would usually most likely house droves of actors or other performers in marvelous costumes before they would go out on stage to dazzle the masses.
Today, however, it was home to a much sadder sight.
Laid out on two benches, surrounded by their peers, were two truly pitiful casualties of conflict. As he walked in, their ears twitched and they began to look up in erratic movements, their muscles twitching and shivering as if under immense stress from just the simple movements, and even after their head was lifted, it was stuck in a constant quiver.
Meanwhile, their far healthier compatriots also turned towards him, their gazes dark and eyes sharp, while their agitated tails whipped through the air like angry flails.
“How are you feeling?” Alexander asked the first of the two clearly ill myiat who met his gaze.
“According to the…circumstances,” the man replied, his voice about as jittery as his posture as he spoke. His name was Mirrakshra. A good man, suffering a bad fate.
Meanwhile, one of their healthy compatriots, a dark-skinned fellow with a scar from a cut right over his cheekbone that had accompanied Alexander since back on Dunnima, glared at Alexander with fiery eyes as he saw the kind of robe he wore.
“If you’re going to try some sort of faith-healing bullshit, then I swear to-“ he began, however Alexander cut him off harshly.
“You shouldn’t swear, Eskfotarra. Not on heaven or on Earth,” he reprimanded him with firm words. Then he smirked, “You may promise to harm me all you like, however. But no, that’s not why I’m here. I’m not a fool. I know I can’t work miracles. I simply worry about his wellbeing.”
“It’s al..alright,” Mirrakshra quelled the worries of his friend. “Y-y-you got news?”
Alexander exhaled disappointedly.
“Sadly, yes,” he said and looked away. “It seems that some of our allies have…how do you say…jumped the gun? They attempted to exterminate the affront prematurely, and in the process, have only made it all the more enduring, it seems.”
Eskfotarra scoffed and his ears twitched slightly as his tail slowed to a gradual sway.
“So, she’s out now?” he correctly assumed, and the smirk on his face told of him not finding those circumstances all too disagreeable. An unfortunate choice, but his to make.
“Indeed,” Alexander replied. “And at the scale we’re currently working at, I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to stamp it out.”
By now, the AI might have infected the entire Galaxy. There was no telling of the kind of hardships they would soon face because of it.
However, Eskfotarra just glanced down at his ill friends again as his grimace soured.
“And Aldwin?” he asked darkly.
Alexander lifted his arms with open palms and shrugged.
“Hidden away where we cannot reach him, at least for the moment,” he explained.
The myiat aggressively clicked his tongue and hissed through his teeth.
“Then when will we be able to reach him?” he asked, his claws unfurling on his arm, cutting into the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s high time that he answers for a lot of things.”
In a picture that should be grotesque but could only be described as empathetic, the quivering, injured feline laying before him looked up at his healthy friend with pity, while wrath seemingly consumed Eskfotarra.
Alexander nodded.
“I’m sure he would agree with you there,” he pointed out, seeing as Aldwin had never been shy to point out his own misdeeds. “That is why sooner or later, he is going to make it possible. The danger is the nature of a Saint.”

At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats, and pickled curiosities. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from the canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covers a large crack in the foundation by the cooler where layers of sticky spill-off have formed a miniature tar pit, preserving countless insect corpses and the occasional small rodent.
Nobody ever complains about the aesthetic. By some providence bordering on the supernatural, the health inspector has repeatedly signed off on the business, always kindly ignoring the faint smell of some kind of mysterious chemical cocktail that is the defining characteristic of the establishment. More noticeable than the steady mechanical hum of the frozen drink machine that was installed in the seventies and never once serviced. More distracting than the random pockets of cold and warm air that seem to follow you around. And more annoying than the family of mutated raccoons that lives in the crawlspace behind the grease trap.
We think they’re mutated anyway. At the very least, they must be inbred to the point of genetic deformity and mental retardation. The alpha, a muscular three-foot-tall son of a bitch named Rocco, has been spotted multiple times chewing on people’s tires and has been run over at least twice, but keeps coming back.
That lingering smell, a sweet combination of honeysuckle, ammonia, and vomit, has never been positively identified, but the prevalent theory is that it’s coming from underground, wafting up through the thin fissures in the concrete that grow and spread with each year of architectural settling. It’s strongest right after a rain, and pungent to the point of tear-inducing if you get too close to the storm drains where even Rocco and his clan refuse to tread.
If you were to go inside, you might also see the bathroom cowboy. He's sort of an urban legend around here, only ever appearing when you’re alone and unsuspecting. What makes him truly legendary are the stories people tell after an alleged encounter. The accounts run the gamut from “pretty weird” to “impossibly bizarre.” Like the guy last month who went for a pee but changed his mind when he saw him standing there next to the urinal, wearing a duster, bandanna, boots, and chaps, handing out balloon animals.
Or a couple weeks later when another customer stepped into the same bathroom to see a man wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boxers, and boots with spurs, literally grinding an ax on an old-fashioned stone sharpening wheel. When he entered, the cowboy stopped what he was doing, looked up with a smile and a tip of the hat and said, “Come on, Man... Come onnn with it.”
If you should be lucky enough to see the cowboy that may or may not haunt the bathroom, don't worry. He's harmless, and in fact usually quite polite. Honestly, he doesn’t seem so bad. Especially compared to some of the other things going on in that place.
When you go inside, you might instantly get a toothache. That’s a strangely common phenomenon that nobody really understands. It should go away on its own after a couple hours.
If you do go inside, you will almost definitely see me sitting behind the counter, because I am the only full-time employee, and I’m almost always here. You may catch me reading a book because, for some reason, the internet doesn’t work way out here, and cell phone service is dicey on good days and nonexistent on most. If you need to make a call, you can leave and go up the hill a ways, preferably back towards town because the other way will take you into the woods and you don’t even want me to go into all the reasons that’s not a good idea. Or you can pay me twenty-five cents a minute and use the store’s land line. (That arrangement was cooked up by the owners and I have to actually enforce it because they do check the phone records. I’m sorry.)
While you’re here, don’t be offended if I don’t strike up a conversation because, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t always know for sure if everyone who comes through those doors is real or not and if I had to acknowledge everyone in that place that could be an actual person, I might lose my mind. And we don’t need any more of that going on around here.
I guess that the point I’m trying to make is this: weird things happen to me working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town.
—————
Howdy! Im looking to do an RP set in the world of TFTGS by Jack Townsend. For those who haven’t read the books/listened to the creepy pasta, go do that cause it’s amazing. No? Still here? Cool! Cause honestly you not really knowing much about it would play really well into the RP. If you HAVE read it, that’s cool too. If you wanted to play as O’Brien (preferred), Rosa or an OC of some kind just let me know. I look forward to speaking/RPing with you.

At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats, and pickled curiosities. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from the canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covers a large crack in the foundation by the cooler where layers of sticky spill-off have formed a miniature tar pit, preserving countless insect corpses and the occasional small rodent.
Nobody ever complains about the aesthetic. By some providence bordering on the supernatural, the health inspector has repeatedly signed off on the business, always kindly ignoring the faint smell of some kind of mysterious chemical cocktail that is the defining characteristic of the establishment. More noticeable than the steady mechanical hum of the frozen drink machine that was installed in the seventies and never once serviced. More distracting than the random pockets of cold and warm air that seem to follow you around. And more annoying than the family of mutated raccoons that lives in the crawlspace behind the grease trap.
We think they’re mutated anyway. At the very least, they must be inbred to the point of genetic deformity and mental retardation. The alpha, a muscular three-foot-tall son of a bitch named Rocco, has been spotted multiple times chewing on people’s tires and has been run over at least twice, but keeps coming back.
That lingering smell, a sweet combination of honeysuckle, ammonia, and vomit, has never been positively identified, but the prevalent theory is that it’s coming from underground, wafting up through the thin fissures in the concrete that grow and spread with each year of architectural settling. It’s strongest right after a rain, and pungent to the point of tear-inducing if you get too close to the storm drains where even Rocco and his clan refuse to tread.
If you were to go inside, you might also see the bathroom cowboy. He's sort of an urban legend around here, only ever appearing when you’re alone and unsuspecting. What makes him truly legendary are the stories people tell after an alleged encounter. The accounts run the gamut from “pretty weird” to “impossibly bizarre.” Like the guy last month who went for a pee but changed his mind when he saw him standing there next to the urinal, wearing a duster, bandanna, boots, and chaps, handing out balloon animals.
Or a couple weeks later when another customer stepped into the same bathroom to see a man wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boxers, and boots with spurs, literally grinding an ax on an old-fashioned stone sharpening wheel. When he entered, the cowboy stopped what he was doing, looked up with a smile and a tip of the hat and said, “Come on, Man... Come onnn with it.”
If you should be lucky enough to see the cowboy that may or may not haunt the bathroom, don't worry. He's harmless, and in fact usually quite polite. Honestly, he doesn’t seem so bad. Especially compared to some of the other things going on in that place.
When you go inside, you might instantly get a toothache. That’s a strangely common phenomenon that nobody really understands. It should go away on its own after a couple hours.
If you do go inside, you will almost definitely see me sitting behind the counter, because I am the only full-time employee, and I’m almost always here. You may catch me reading a book because, for some reason, the internet doesn’t work way out here, and cell phone service is dicey on good days and nonexistent on most. If you need to make a call, you can leave and go up the hill a ways, preferably back towards town because the other way will take you into the woods and you don’t even want me to go into all the reasons that’s not a good idea. Or you can pay me twenty-five cents a minute and use the store’s land line. (That arrangement was cooked up by the owners and I have to actually enforce it because they do check the phone records. I’m sorry.)
While you’re here, don’t be offended if I don’t strike up a conversation because, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t always know for sure if everyone who comes through those doors is real or not and if I had to acknowledge everyone in that place that could be an actual person, I might lose my mind. And we don’t need any more of that going on around here.
I guess that the point I’m trying to make is this: weird things happen to me working at the shitty gas station at the edge of town.
—————
Howdy! Im looking to do an RP set in the world of TFTGS by Jack Townsend. For those who haven’t read the books/listened to the creepy pasta, go do that cause it’s amazing. No? Still here? Cool! Cause honestly you not really knowing much about it would play really well into the RP. If you HAVE read it, that’s cool too. If you wanted to play as O’Brien (preferred), Rosa or an OC of some kind just let me know. I look forward to speaking/RPing with you.

Please fill out the form below. You may enter text to the right of the '' symbol. Do NOT use or it will break the form.

Item Name:	GIVEAWAY BNIB 126334 Datejust 41 with the Blue Motif Dial, Fluted Bezel and Jubilee Bracelet
Price:	$Sub Fund minus ModCut
# of Spots:	A Billion
Approval:	https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ
Price Justification:	F
Price Justification:	R
Price Justification:	O
Price Justification:	T
Call spots?	Y/N
Spot limit per person?	0
Location/Country:	USA
Will ship international?	USA/CA/INTL (Shipping rules will apply)
Timestamp/pics:	https://imgur.com/a/Fdzotwd
Escrow:	Numba 1 escrow running this!
Description:	Watch. You may request up to 6 spots. Must link to comment in a completed raffle that you paid for your spots in. March through August 2022 Raffles only. 1 spot per month. If you fuck it up, you will get pooped. MARCH THROUGH AUGUST 2022 PARTICIPANTS ONLY GIVEAWAY We have confirmed that ~$15k was collected by our trusted escrows from October through February 24. As you know, we may sometimes hold up to 50% of the sub to protect our members from several types of fraud. Luckily we have not had to use this fund very often and more often than not (with exceptions in recent times), we will use 100% of the sub fund to provide generous giveaways. We will be doing so here by using 100% of the fund that has been collected. We are happy to present our giveaway item: BNIB 126334 Datejust 41 with the Blue Motif Dial, Fluted Bezel and Jubilee Bracelet The rules of the giveaway are (please read carefully before it goes live): The giveaway will be open for ONE full day (3/20ish). There will be no tags for this raffle. It will end officially at 5pm EST on the second day, any requests thereafter will be ignored. If you participated in any month from March through August 2022, you are eligible to request spots up to six random spots total (that’s if you participated in all SIX months). With a TOP LEVEL COMMENT you may request up to five random spots and post the permalinks to YOUR PAID spot request links (one link from EACH month). You may submit ONLY ONE LINK PER MONTH. Given how large this is going to be, we HIGHLY suggest you visit the last giveaway here, to see how to do this correctly. Find your paid spot request permalinks beforehand and make sure you know the exact dates of your participation because Reddit has fooled many users. Freebie participation does not count. Spots in cancelled raffles do not count. Spots that were removed for non-payment certainly does not count. We will not allow donating your spot to anyone else for this giveaway. YOU MUST POST YOUR REQUEST AND LINKS IN ONE SINGLE TOP-LEVEL COMMENT. Given how large this is, we will ignore additional comments from any user who attempt to add additional months. The number of months you posted originally will be the maximum number of spots you will be eligible for. If you are caught calling a spot with an alt or try to cheat in any way or form, you will be perma-banned immediately with no exceptions. Do NOT send modmail to get whitelisted or upgraded during this period. And do not send modmail or reply to us asking why you were skipped and pooped. You should have read the rules in advance. Any such messages will be immediately archived. Not following the rules will result in one poop. Examples that will get you one poop flair: request a spot without a link, post a link to the wrong month, post links from the same month, post a link to the raffle itself (and not your specific spot request), post a comment underneath your first error with links, or delete/edit your spot request. Any of these will result in one poop flair. If you commit another error afterwards, that will be a second poop (and immediate 1-week ban if 2nd poop, or 1-month ban if it results in 3rd poop and your request will not be honored for the giveaway). If you already had a poop flair that has not expired and you incur an infraction during this giveaway, you will be banned accordingly and you will not be allowed to participate in this giveaway. If you are skipped, that means you made an error and you will receive a poop flair. HOW TO FIX YOUR ERROR: Make a NEW top level comment if you want to try again. But if you make another error at this point, this will result in a ban. Your request will be ignored for the giveaway and you will not be allowed to participate in this giveaway. Once the raffle window closes, all slots will be SHUFFLED and the bot called for ONE winner. The winner will send modmail with their info. It takes a lot of effort on the part of several mods to check all the links to make sure that they link to your paid spot request to completed raffles and that the dates correspond to the correct months. If you send PMs or chats to any mods or send modmail during the giveaway period asking what you did wrong, why you were pooped, or why you were skipped, they will all be ignored. Do not reply to the mod team comments stating you were skipped and pooped asking why, and you should not reply beneath with the correct links. You should have done your homework by reading the rules carefully and following them. LEARN HOW TO READ AND HOW TO POST CORRECT LINKS BEFOREHAND. We encourage trusted members of the sub to continue to help us assure everyone regarding the transparency of the sub fund. For information about the management of the sub fund, please visit our rules page here. We also thank our escrows and rafflers for their help with collecting/consolidating the sub fund.

​
Tip BlobAndHisBoy
Number of vacant slots: 400
Number of unpaid users: 0
Number of unpaid slots: 0
This slot list is created and updated by The EDC Raffle Tool by BlobAndHisBoy.
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I was laid off from my job as a software engineer in January, and have been collecting unemployment while I search for a job so that I can keep paying my student loans down. I was informed that I had been selected for mandatory participation in the RESEA program, allegedly designed to help job seekers succeed in navigating the job market. As stated in bold text by the letter I received:
Failure to participate or show good cause for not participating will result in a denial of UI benefits.
Pretty harsh tone there, but it's the least of my complaints.
RESEA is worse than unhelpful. So far, it has been nothing but a bureaucratic mess and an insulting waste of time that could have been spent actually looking for a job. The online content is outdated, disorganized, and full of fluff. Some of the info could be helpful for older folks reentering the job market, however the program also requires the use of a difficult online platform, JobQuest, in addition to email and phone communications, making RESEA a nightmare for older folks not in possession of the requisite digital literacy and capacity to decipher the intentions of poorly designed software. So, then, who does this content help? The JobQuest portal contains false information about RESEA, adding to the confusion. Of course, there’s paperwork as well. One form requires you to manually copy all of your job search logs from the DETMA claimant portal, a tedious exercise that claimants shouldn’t be responsible for.
The next three paragraphs are a more detailed account of the nonsense I dealt with to fulfill my RESEA requirements. Skip to the end if you like; they're not essential to the point I'm trying to make.
The career center seminars I was required to attend for step 1 were all full, leaving me no choice but to call the career center, where—following a long hold—I was informed that I could watch a prerecorded seminar by clicking a button buried in the portal interface with no indication that it would count as the required seminar. I wasted a full hour trying to figure this out. There were five videos, each over 20 minutes long, and none of them contained information specific enough to be helpful.
When I called the downtown career center to inquire about the “initial review” step, which RESEA was supposed to initiate after the seminar but hadn’t, I was told to take it up with the Boston career center on Harrison Street. Unfortunate, as I only called the downtown center after trying to call the Boston one several times and getting sent to voicemail with no hold. Later, a career counselor I did a 1:1 with told me that the downtown center was, in fact, the correct one to contact, contradicting the information I had received earlier. No real counseling was done in the 1:1, and we didn’t even have a call, just a brief email correspondence that had nothing to do with my career. I called the Boston center again for good measure, and they still wouldn’t take my call, so I called downtown a second time. They tried sending me to the Boston center again, and I was only able to get the help I needed after insisting they take care of it themselves.
Following my conversation with the downtown career center, their RESEA representative reached out to complete the initial review and explained that the next step was “interim service.” This was in the RESEA instructions I was sent via email, but not mentioned in the JobQuest portal. I had already performed that step by attending the 1:1 with the career counselor, which I had scheduled in JobQuest for a time after RESEA was supposed to have called me for their initial review. RESEA man said I needed to do the initial review first, so my 1:1 “didn’t count” because I performed the step “out of order” despite that being their fault for not calling me when they said they would, and despite the two steps being unrelated. At this point I was tired of being given the runaround and summoned my inner Karen. After bombarding the RESEA rep with my reasoning and complaining ad nauseam about the discrepancies between the official RESEA instructions and the ones on JobQuest, he relented and accepted the 1:1 as valid interim service because he was "not going to keep arguing" with me.

My entire experience with RESEA has felt scummy and illegitimate. Regardless of its true intentions, it feels as though it was designed to be as frustrating as possible to complete, while also offering the most broadly applicable and unspecific "assistance" possible. I may have the time, mental energy, and resources to get all of my RESEA requirements sorted and complain about it on Reddit, but not everyone is so privileged. It strikes me as degrading to make people who are already in a tough spot waste hours of their time jumping through hoops to keep their unemployment benefits. If the goal is to deter scammers from making fraudulent claims, I can think of far simpler methods than RESEA to verify a claimant’s identity. If the goal is to provide meaningful assistance to unemployed people and get them to make full use of the career centers' resources, the Massachusetts government can and should do better than this.

Like sorry if this is too broad or something but I don’t really see the point of a basic device designed to be preamp or a single band equalizer or something costing at least 1000 dollars and needing 15 transformers, can you explain it to me like I’m five

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Freehand FN #1, B/O: $1867

★ Butterfly Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $1098

★ Butterfly Knife Blue Steel BS, B/O: $907

★ Butterfly Knife Ultraviolet FT, B/O: $789

★ Butterfly Knife Stained FT, B/O: $695

⎯

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth MW #1, B/O: $888

★ Bayonet Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $727

★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $608

★ Bayonet Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $521

★ Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $253

★ Bayonet Night FT, B/O: $251

★ StatTrak™ Bayonet Lore MW, B/O: $751

⎯

★ Karambit Gamma Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1343

★ Karambit Damascus Steel FT, B/O: $774

★ Karambit Rust Coat BS, B/O: $537

★ Karambit Boreal Forest FT, B/O: $488

⎯

★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523

★ M9 Bayonet Fade FN, B/O: $1523

★ M9 Bayonet Doppler (Phase 4) FN, B/O: $1008

★ M9 Bayonet Blue Steel FT, B/O: $534

★ M9 Bayonet Rust Coat BS, B/O: $449

⎯

★ Flip Knife Fade FN, B/O: $703

★ Flip Knife Gamma Doppler (Phase 1) MW, B/O: $509

★ Flip Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $406

★ Flip Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $228

★ StatTrak™ Flip Knife Bright Water FN, B/O: $332

⎯

★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 2) FN, B/O: $292

★ Falchion Knife Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $264

★ Falchion Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $258

★ Falchion Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $133

⎯

★ Stiletto Knife Fade FN, B/O: $822

★ Stiletto Knife Slaughter FN, B/O: $569

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Phase 1) FN, B/O: $530

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web FT, B/O: $396

★ StatTrak™ Stiletto Knife Scorched FT, B/O: $172

⎯

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Sapphire) MW #1, B/O: $830

★ Gut Knife Fade FN, B/O: $204

★ Gut Knife Tiger Tooth FN, B/O: $138

★ Gut Knife Bright Water MW, B/O: $104

★ Gut Knife Freehand FT, B/O: $92

★ Gut Knife Urban Masked FT, B/O: $82

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Rust Coat BS, B/O: $93

⎯

★ Shadow Daggers Fade FN, B/O: $258

★ Shadow Daggers Doppler (Phase 3) FN, B/O: $165

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel FT, B/O: $82

★ Shadow Daggers Bright Water FT, B/O: $82

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel WW, B/O: $80

★ Shadow Daggers Rust Coat BS, B/O: $74

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade FN, B/O: $186

⎯

★ Classic Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $311

★ StatTrak™ Classic Knife Stained BS, B/O: $163

⎯

★ Talon Knife Slaughter MW, B/O: $605

★ Talon Knife Scorched MW, B/O: $290

⎯

★ Ursus Knife Marble Fade FN, B/O: $405

★ Ursus Knife Night Stripe MW, B/O: $162

⎯

★ Paracord Knife Stained WW, B/O: $125

★ Paracord Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97

★ Paracord Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $96

⎯

★ Navaja Knife Safari Mesh FT, B/O: $71

★ Navaja Knife Scorched WW, B/O: $71

⎯

★ Nomad Knife Fade FN, B/O: $1015

★ Skeleton Knife, B/O: $909

★ Bowie Knife Boreal Forest MW, B/O: $106

★ Survival Knife Forest DDPAT FT, B/O: $97

GLOVES

★ Driver Gloves Crimson Weave FT, B/O: $335

★ Driver Gloves King Snake BS, B/O: $270

★ Driver Gloves Lunar Weave WW, B/O: $113

★ Driver Gloves Overtake WW, B/O: $88

★ Driver Gloves Overtake BS, B/O: $67

⎯

★ Moto Gloves Transport MW, B/O: $171

★ Moto Gloves Polygon BS, B/O: $137

★ Moto Gloves Transport WW, B/O: $71

★ Moto Gloves 3rd Commando Company BS, B/O: $62

⎯

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Kimono WW, B/O: $1027

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike FT, B/O: $654

★ Specialist Gloves Mogul FT, B/O: $295

★ Specialist Gloves Lt. Commander FT, B/O: $277

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web FT, B/O: $275

⎯

★ Sport Gloves Slingshot FT, B/O: $796

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious BS #2, B/O: $699

★ Sport Gloves Omega FT, B/O: $656

⎯

★ Broken Fang Gloves Unhinged BS, B/O: $60

WEAPONS

AK-47 Case Hardened BS, B/O: $130

AK-47 Bloodsport MW, B/O: $79

AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76

AK-47 Fuel Injector BS, B/O: $76

AK-47 Bloodsport FT, B/O: $70

AK-47 Neon Rider MW, B/O: $60

⎯

AWP Fade FN, B/O: $864

AWP BOOM MW, B/O: $84

AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69

AWP Containment Breach FT, B/O: $69

AWP Wildfire FT, B/O: $59

AWP Chromatic Aberration FN, B/O: $59

StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65

StatTrak™ AWP Hyper Beast FT, B/O: $65

⎯

Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565

Desert Eagle Blaze FN, B/O: $565

Desert Eagle Printstream FN, B/O: $155

Desert Eagle Cobalt Disruption FN, B/O: $58

⎯

M4A1-S Icarus Fell FN, B/O: $414

M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204

M4A1-S Printstream MW, B/O: $204

⎯

M4A4 Poseidon FN, B/O: $1402

M4A4 The Emperor FN, B/O: $152

M4A4 Asiimov WW, B/O: $97

⎯

USP-S Kill Confirmed MW, B/O: $65

USP-S Printstream FT, B/O: $69

StatTrak™ USP-S Kill Confirmed FT, B/O: $123

StatTrak™ USP-S Neo-Noir FN, B/O: $106

⎯

AUG Flame Jörmungandr FN, B/O: $218

P2000 Ocean Foam FN, B/O: $139

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike MW, B/O: $81

CZ75-Auto Emerald Quartz MW, B/O: $61

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Knives - Bowie Knife, Butterfly Knife, Falchion Knife, Flip Knife, Gut Knife, Huntsman Knife, M9 Bayonet, Bayonet, Karambit, Shadow Daggers, Stiletto Knife, Ursus Knife, Navaja Knife, Talon Knife, Classic Knife, Paracord Knife, Survival Knife, Nomad Knife, Skeleton Knife, Patterns - Gamma Doppler, Doppler (Phase 1, Phase 2, Phase 3, Phase 4, Black Pearl, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald), Crimson Web, Lore, Fade, Ultraviolet, Night, Marble Fade (Fire & Ice, Fake FI), Case Hardened (Blue Gem), Autotronic, Slaughter, Black Laminate, Tiger Tooth, Boreal Forest, Scorched, Blue Steel, Vanilla, Damascus Steel, Forest DDPAT, Urban Masked, Freehand, Stained, Bright Water, Safari Mesh, Rust Coat, Gloves - Bloodhound Gloves (Charred, Snakebite, Guerrilla, Bronzed), Driver Gloves (Snow Leopard, King Snake, Crimson Weave, Imperial Plaid, Black Tie, Lunar Weave, Diamondback, Rezan the Red, Overtake, Queen Jaguar, Convoy, Racing Green), Hand Wraps (Cobalt Skulls, CAUTION!, Overprint, Slaughter, Leather, Giraffe, Badlands, Spruce DDPAT, Arboreal, Constrictor, Desert Shamagh, Duct Tape), Moto Gloves (Spearmint, POW!, Cool Mint, Smoke Out, Finish Line, Polygon, Blood Pressure, Turtle, Boom!, Eclipse, 3rd Commando Company, Transport), Specialist Gloves (Crimson Kimono, Tiger Strike, Emerald Web, Field Agent, Marble Fade, Fade, Foundation, Lt. 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We regularly see posts in bourbon asking for Bourbon Trail trip recommendations. My wife and I just returned from a trip to Bardstown, and I wanted to offer you guys some feedback on our experiences. Hopefully you will find them useful for planning your own trip to Bardstown.
First, a very special "thank you" to u/Old_Riff_502 . Old Riff always posts very useful information in the forums. I also privately messaged him and I was amazed with the amount advice that he provided on the area. I don't think we would have had nearly as a excellent of a trip had it not been for him. Thank you again!
Hotel: We stayed at the La Quinta Inn & Suites from Wednesday evening until Sunday morning. The hotel was new, clean, and offered free breakfast every day (although we never actually ate it). The hotel is easy to get in and out of. It seemed like we were only a five minute drive away from anywhere we were trying to go. However, it's not very centrally located. You're not walking anywhere important from the hotel. The other knock on the hotel (and this seems more just industry standard these days), is that we never had anyone come in to do a room refresh at all during our trip. Nobody took out the trash, refreshed room coffee, or soaps/shampoos. That being said, I would not mind staying here again at all!
Distilleries (listed in order or preference):

• Kentucky Cooperage - I know it's cheating....this isn't technically a distillery. But hear me out. Kentucky Cooperage is located in Lebanon, KY which is maybe a 30-minute drive from Bardstown. It may have been my favorite experience of the whole trip! The visitor's center is very unassuming; it looks like a small store in a strip mall. But the magic happens when you are shuttled across the street to walk the factory. Watching these craftsmen create bourbon barrels was impressive! The skill and meticulous attention required for each barrel was very cool to witness. I think this was one of the cheaper tours as well at ~$15.
• Jim Beam - Beam Made Bourbon - The James B. Beam distillery is located in Clermont, KY, which was a 25-minute drive from Bardstown. Although it does feel sterile and corporate feeling at times, I had an excellent time! The tour runs like a well oiled machine! Our tour guide Terry was knowledgeable of the distillery and the area. The sheer scope of the Jim Beam operation is mind boggling! Many generic distillery tours start to get repetitive. But I thought the Jim Beam tour was one of the best. The site and setting are really cool. There is also a spot where you can select a bottle of Knob Creek 9-year single barrel and watch it get filled through the bottling process. You can then take home your bottle for $60. The tasting was probably my favorite of the trip. We were given Jim Beam White Label, Basil Hayden 10-year, Knob Creek 9-year, and then a bourbon of your choice - Bakers 7, Legent, or Knob Creek 18-year. The store had some interesting bottles. There was a distillery exclusive experimental batch of something which looked to be about 250 mL and was $70. When they opened that had a bottle of Little Book and a bottle of Booker's for sale. I missed them both. There were plenty of bottles of Knob Creek 18-year which were selling for $180, and there was a Jim Beam Lineage which looked fancy but was selling for ~$280. I spoke to our tour guide after the tour for a bit. After the tour you walk back down through the gift shop and I noticed them putting another bottle of Booker's on the shelf. I was able to purchase this for $100. So it seems like they do restock some items throughout the day. There is also an excellent restaurant on site called the Kitchen Table (more on this later).
• Bardstown Bourbon - Rickhouse Tasting - This was a very unique experience. Bardstown Bourbon is a very modern facility, and the experience feels different from many from the long established brands. This tour was done in a very cold rickhouse (apparently they are always cold). Our tour guide gave us an overview of Bardstown Bourbon as a brand and some of the things they are working on. We then proceeded to get samples poured directly from the barrel via a whiskey thief. We tried a wheated bourbon which he said is part of their Origin series, a regular bourbon (which was not released yet), and a 95/5 rye. We then proceeded to go to a speakeasy type tasting room to for our last sample of Fusion #8. This was followed up by a walk back to the gift shop where we were told we would get to keep our sample glasses. The restaurant's food looked wonderful but we didn't eat. There were also a TON of pours available at their bar. I was interested in purchasing the Origin bourbon, but he said that they were sold out. I later found one a Total Wine. They did have quite a few bottles for sale though - many of Bardstown collaborative releases, Bardstown only releases, as well as bottles that use Bardstown to make their bourbon.
• Maker's Mark - We did the standard Maker's Mark tour. The grounds were great! Very hilly and picturesque. Unfortunately, we were visiting in the winter, so it was not very colorful. But I could see this being amazing in the spring or fall! The history explored was very interesting. The tasting was wonderful, as I always enjoy Maker's Mark. We tasted regular Maker's, Maker's Cask Strength, Maker's 46, Maker's 46 Cask Strength, and a French Toast stave select. We purchased a bottle in the gift shop and we were able to hand dip it which was pretty cool. I was hoping to have lunch here, but their restaurant was being redone. They had a tasting bar opened which offered a limited selection of Maker's pours and cocktails. I really enjoyed the Makers 46 cask strength, and was hoping to buy a bottle. But that was unavailable. They had standard Maker's bottles for sale, Maker's 46, standard Maker's cask strength, and a Blueberry stave select bottle for purchase. We chose a standard Maker's with a limited edition label where some of the proceeds support women's education.
• Wilderness Trail - This is a bit of a hike from Bardstown - probably about 45-minutes. But I thought it was well worth the trip! Wilderness Trail is a very modern facility. They really put an emphasis on the science behind the bourbon. I thought it was very cool to learn about the variety of yeasts utilized by Wilderness Trial. This was a pretty generic distillery tour. The tasting is done in the gift shop, which got a little loud at the end due to another tour coming in. We tried a wheated, a higher rye, a cask strength, and their rye. To me, much of Wilderness Trail's rye comes off as minty, and that is a turnoff for me. But their high-rye standard bourbon was a favorite of mine! We spoke to the tour guide after the tour, and he said "I've got something for you to try". We tried a three barrel blend of master distillery selected bottles - one wheated and one high-rye. I liked the high-rye and purchased a bottle for about $65. They also had a limited release for a program they are doing with the Frasier museum which was available for purchase. It was a 6-year rye (it might have been 7-years, I forget at this point) for $135. Not being a fan of the rye, I passed on this.
• Heaven Hill - You Do Bourbon - This was a pretty cool experience! Heaven Hill's distillery was CROWDED with people. It seems to be a very popular stop on the Bourbon Trail. The You Do Bourbon experience was pretty pricey at $40 per person. But it was also really cool! We would each have the opportunity to purchase a bottle of our choice at the end of he tasting. 20 of us were taken back to a classroom setting, and we got right to tasting. We each had four samples in front of us - Bernheim 7-year Barrel Proof, Larceny Barrel Proof, Elijah Craig Barrel Proof, and then Heaven Hill Select Stock 14-year. I don't know much about the Select Stock. They did say it was 14-years aged in a high floor of the rickhouse and it was wheated. The tour guide gave us the hard FOMO sale on the Select Stock - it's only 25 barrels, it's exclusive to the distillery, once it's gone....it's gone. It also had a price tag of $200! I was disappointed that we had so much wheated whiskey or low rye options on the tasting. But the Elijah Craig was wonderful! I purchased a bottle of it for about $80. I bottled it up using an idiot proof machine, corked it, and my wife drew up the labels. It was a very cool experience! There was a bachelor party full of what my wife and I affectionately refer to as "Bourbon Bros" who bought into the FOMO. They purchased probably 12-15 bottles of the Select Stock on their own! Kentucky must love these tour groups!
• Four Roses Bottling Facility - This is kind of near the Jim Beam distillery, and I think it's worth popping your head in and checking out. We did this, and their gift shop had a Master Distiller selected private barrel of OESQ for $105. I've yet to try it, but I am very excited to!
• Limestone Branch - We stopped in here for a quick flight. The flight they gave was very generous: Minor Case Sherry Finished Rye, Yellowstone 4-year, Yellowstone Toasted, Yellowstone Single-Malt, Yellowstone Hand-picked, and their gin. This is one of the things I like best about Kentucky, you can try before you buy! Had I not been given this option, I would have purchased the Toasted and Single-Malt. I would have been disappointed with both of these purchases. Ultimately, none of these selections were for me. But it was a cool experience nonetheless.

Restaurants/Food (listed in order or preference):

• The Kitchen Table - This was my favorite restaurant this trip! The Kitchen Table is located at the Jim Beam Distillery. Prices are very reasonable, and the food is fantastic! We tried appetizers: Pulled Pork Empinadas with white BBQ sauce (which was the best thing I ate all trip!) and Pimento Cheese and some Peppery Jelly spread (also great!). We tried the Burgoo which was good. And their burger was excellent! There are also some great Jim Beam themed pours and cocktails available. I had some of the "Kentucky Tea" Booker's which was just too good! I would have eaten here all trip if it was closer!
• Mammy's - This is in downtown Bardstown, and we really enjoyed it! It's just great southern cooking. We ate their for breakfast one day. We had biscuits and gravy, and eggs and bacon. We also went back for dinner one night and had a BLFT with Pimento Cheese, Hot Browns, and fried cornbread. I'm drooling as I type just remembering how great this was! The bar also has a ton of solid bourbons and decent prices. They even have live music certain evenings.
• Quick Stop - Old Riff swore by this place, and he nailed it! The Quick Stop is just a gas station on the way out of Bardstown. But they service awesome Jake's Country Sausage biscuits to go. This country sausage is just too good! We ate their on our way out to the Kentucky Cooperage and again on the way to the airport.
• Hadorn's Bakery - This place is a hole in the wall serving donuts. They had one of the best jelly donuts I've ever had. Very solid.
• Cozy Cottage - This is located by Maker's Mark. It's a total dive, but the food was decent and prices were fine. I got a burger, the wife had the pot roast special. I could take it or leave it.
• Herradura - This is a Mexican restaurant in Bardstown. It was actually pretty good! The food was decent and came out very fast. Like most places in Bardstown, they had a hell of a bourbon selection at reasonable prices.
• Sedona Taphouse - This was actually over in Lexington. They had a large amount of draft beers which I enjoyed. I also took advantage of the pours of Booker's for $15 and Stagg Jr for $10. Food was good as well.

Overall: We had a wonderful trip. We really enjoyed our time at Bardstown. Old Riff and the advice he provides on this forum is invaluable! Listen to this dude. There was a couple that hired a driver one day and we saw them at four of their five stops (the only thing they did that we didn't was they did a chocolate pairing at Lux Row). They paid $900 for their chauffeured experience! Ours basically cost us the price of admission plus a few hours poking around on Reddit's boards and distillery websites.
A few tips for those considering a visit to Bardstown:

• Personally, I don't think you need a driver. The distilleries don't give you more than 2 oz on a tour. We weren't looking to drink a lot at the distilleries. But with some of the bar selections available at the distilleries it would have been easy to get carried away. That said, know your limits. If you are going to be drinking more than the 2 oz given at tastings, consider hiring a driver.
• Reserve ahead of time, especially on weekends! Our Thursday tours were pretty empty. Sometimes there was only an additional couple or two on our tours. But the Friday and especially Saturday tours were much more crowded.
• Don't get caught up in FOMO. There are plenty of bottles for sale at area liquor stores well above retail. There are also quite a few limited or distillery only releases. These don't necessarily equate to bourbon you will enjoy. Don't buy something just because it might be the only time you'll be able to get it.
• Try before you buy! It's pretty easy in most cases to get a pour of something before committing to a whole bottle. You'll find a bottle which sounds like it might be your thing is actually something you don't enjoy.
• Take the time to talk to people. There were definitely people that were there to "hunt" bottles. You could just feel the eye rolls by employees. These people walk in, ask for a bottle, and walk out. You're in Kentucky! Sit back and experience whiskey for yourself! Try a pour of something you've never heard of based on the recommendation of a stranger at the bar. Trade stories of restaurants/distilleries/attractions you enjoyed during your day. You might even get the inside scoop on something that you may have missed otherwise.
• Bardstown outside of peak season lacks off hours attractions. We also could have missed them. But we found that most attractions and even locally owned shops opened at 10am and closed at 4pm. There wasn't much to do in the evenings other than pony up to the bar. It's fine, but a little variety would have been welcome. I'm told it's a little more lively in season. But we definitely enjoyed the smaller crowds.

Anyway, that's all I've got! If you're planning on visiting Bardstown anytime soon, I'm genuinely envious. It's a wonderful place. Thanks for reading!

5
From Mirror to Window: Curing Psychoanalysis of its Narcissism
The apparently individual conflict of the patient is revealed as a universal conflict of his environment and epoch. Neurosis is thus nothing less than an individual attempt, however unsuccessful, to solve a universal problem. - C.G. Jung (1912)
Narcissism is now the rage, the universal diagnosis. In Freud's world, the new attention was on conversion hysteria; in Bleuler's, on dementia praecox. Earlier we find all ills attributed to the English malady, to the spleen, to hypochondriasis, to melancholia, to chlorosis; in Paris, a myriad of phobies and délires. Different time and places, different syndromes.
Narcissism has its theoreticians - Kohut, Kernberg, Lacan - and modern Jungians are following the rage. The collective consciousness of psychology makes us collectively unconscious, much as Jung said when writing about the collective ideas in his day. Being "with it" also means being in it. The epidemic diagnosis Narcissism states that the condition is already endemic to the psychology that makes the diagnosis. It sees narcissism because it sees narcissistically. So let us not take this diagnosis so literally, but place it within the historical parade of Western diagnoses.
Eminent cultural critics - Karl Krauss, Thomas Szasz, Philip Rieff, Christopher Lasch, Paul Zweig, and the notorious Dr. Jeffrey Masson - have each seen that psychoanalysis breeds a narcissistic subjectivism inflicting on the culture an iatrogenic disorder, that is, a disease brought by the methods of the doctors who would cure it.
I shall continue their line of thought, but I shall use a method that Wolfgang Giegerich has so brilliantly exposed in many of his papers. If depth psychology itself suffers from a narcissistic disorder, then what we analysts need first to probe is the unconscious narcissism in analysis itself. Our first patient is neither the patient nor ourselves, but the phenomenon called "analysis" that has brought us both to the consulting room.
The term "Narcissism" is probably British . Havelock Ellis is credited with its invention, though Freud gave us its psychoanalytic meaning. What did Freud say? As I go through some of his descriptions, let us hear them narcissistically, as self-referents, descriptive of psychology and of ourselves in psychology.
1917: "We employ the term narcissism in relation to little children and it is to excessive narcissism of primitive man that we ascribe his belief in the omnipotence of his thoughts and consequent attempts to influence the course of events in the other world by magical practices." Does not analysis have this primitive omnipotence fantasy of influencing events in the outer world by its magical practices? The omnipotence of subjective reflection is attested to by many classic Jungians like Harding, Bernard, Meier, von Franz, Baumann, etc. As Jung himself says, we are each "the makeweight that tips the scales" that determine the outcome of world history." The rituals of self-engagement remove projections from the world so that, supposedly, the world itself is transformed by psychoanalysis.
1922: "... narcissistic disorders are characterized by a withdrawal of the libido from objects." The withdrawal of the libido from from objects - I ask you to remember this statement. We shall come back to it.
1925: Freud describes three historic blows to humankind's narcissism. These, he says, are the cosmological blow of Copernicus, the blow of Darwinian evolutionary theory, and the psychoanalytic blow (of Freud) which wounded the omnipotence fantasy, or narcissism, of the ego as sole self-willed ruler. Here, psychoanalysis becomes itself a giant omnipotence fantasy, a creation myth of our culture equivalent with astronomy and biology, promulgating itself with narcissistic grandeur.
This pronouncement appears in Freud's discussion on resistance to psychoanalysis. By means of this idea resistance, analysis brilliantly maintains its invulnerability to criticism. Questioning the validity of analysis is impugned as resistance to it. Even more: the very attacks demonstrate resistance and therefore help to validate analytical theory. As Freud says, "The triumph of narcissism, the ego's victorious assertion of its own invulnerability. It refuses to be hurt by the arrows of reality ... It insists that it is impervious to wounds dealt by the outside world."
Later Freud considered narcissism not to be rooted in love at all, i.e., as self-love, but to be rather a defense against aggressive impulses. Let us consider for a moment the value of "aggressive impulses," at least and at best they take the object, the world out there, into account: I feel enraged about societal injustice, nuclear danger, media crap, industrial callousness, the corporate mind, political ideologues, hideous architecture, etc. But, owing to my narcissistic defenses against the involving call of aggression, I go to the spa, work out, meditate, jog, diet, reduce stress, relax my body armor, improve my orgasms, get a new hairstyle, and take a vacation. And see my therapist: very expensive, very good for me, because he or she devotes complete attention to my problems, especially our transferential frame. Instead of the world and my outrage, I work on my analysis, myself, the Self. This Self, too, fits a narcissistic definition: "the incorporation of grandiose object images as defense against anxiety and guilt" or, as Fenichel puts it, one feels oneself in "reunion with an omnipotent force, be that force an archetype, a god or goddess, the unus mundus, or the numinosity of analysis itself.
Freud's paper "On Narcissism" states that both introspection and conscience or "being watched" derive from and serve narcissism. Yet, psychotherapy practices self-scrutiny as the principal method in its treatment and "being watched" or supervision as the principal component of its training. A candidate goes to hour after hour of institutionalized narcissism of watching and being watched.
The institutionalization of narcissism in our profession - the idea of resistance, the idealization of the Self, the practices of introspection and supervision, the omnipotence fantasies about its own importance in world history, its technique of referring all events back to itself as the vessel, the mirror, the temenos, the frame - bears immediately upon that central obsession of analysis today, transference.
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By transference, here, I mean that self-gratifying analytical habit which refers the emotions of life to the analysis. Transference habitually deflects object libido, that is, love for anything outside analysis, into a narcissistic reflection upon analysis. We feed analysis with life. The mirror that walks down the road of life (Flaubert) replaces the actual road, and the mirror no longer reflects the world, only the walking companions. They may as well have stayed indoors, less distracted by the trees and the traffic.
The principal content of analytical reflection as transference is the child we once were, a fact which accords with Freud's observation that the object choice of the narcissist is "someone he once was.” This helps account for the faddish popularity of Alice Miller’s writings. Her idealized children exhibit what Freud said: the narcissist is “not willing to forego his narcissistic perfection in his childhood” and “seeks to recover the early perfection.” The focus on childhood traps the libido only further into subjectivity, and therefore we must recognize that erotic compulsions in analysis are produced primarily by the analysis, rather than by the persons. Analysis acts itself out through them quite impersonally so that they often feel betrayed and ashamed by the impersonality of the emotions they undergo and are unable to recognize that what they are suffering is the object libido trying to find a way out of analysis. Instead, the narcissistic viciousness of our theory says that transference emotions are compelling the persons to go deeper into analysis.
Let us recognize that the other person - patient or analyst - embodies the only possibility within an analysis to whom object libido can flow. The person in the other chair represents cure of analytical narcissism simply by being there as an Other. Moreover, the patient for the analyst and the analyst for the patient become such numinous objects because they have also been tabooed as libidinal possibilities. Analyst and patient may not act their desire for each other. The narcissism of the situation makes them absolutely necessary to each other, while the taboo sets them absolutely outside of each other. This outside object however, is also inside the analysis. So, patient for doctor and doctor for patient become the symbolic mode of ending analysis by means of love.
Of course, the persons are often torn by what Freud calls the love dilemma of the narcissistic patient: “the cure by love,” which he generally refers to as cure by analysis. We must ask whether this neurotic choice, as Freud calls it, arises from the narcissisms of the patient or from the narcissism of the analytical system in which the patient is situated. After all, the fantasy of an opposition between love and analysis occurs within the prior fantasy of cure which has brought the persons together in the first place.
By elaborating ethical codes, malpractice insurance, investigations, and expulsions that blame the participants, analysis protects itself from wounding insights about its own narcissism. The vulnerability of analysis - that its effectiveness is always in question, that it is neither science nor medicine, that it is aging into professional mediocrity and may have lost its soul to power years ago despite its idealized language by growth and creativity (a language by the way, never used by its founders) - this vulnerability is overcome by idealizing the transference.
As well as transference love, there is also hatred. Perhaps the client’s hatred of the analyst and the hatred of the analyst for the client are also not personal. Perhaps, these intense oppressive feelings against each other arise in both to present both with the fact that they are in a hateful situation: the object libido hates the attachment of transference. Analysis hates itself in order to break the narcissistic vessel imprisoning the libido that would go out into the soul in the world.
The horned dilemmas of transference, including the analyst’s stare into the mirror of his own counter-transference, the feelings of love and hatred, this agony and ecstasy and romantic torture convince the participants that what is going on is of intense importance: first, because these phenomena are expected by the theory and provide proof of it, and second, because these phenomena re-enact what analysis once was in its own childhood in Vienna and Zurich, analysis in primary fusion with its origins in Breuer and Freud and Jung, in Dora and Anna and Sabina. The feelings are cast in therapeutic guise because this is the healing fiction of the analytic situation. In other words, transference is less necessary to the doctor and the patient than it is to analysis by means of which it intensifies its narcissistic idealization, staying in love with itself. We therapists do not sit in our chambers so many hours a day only for the money, or the power, but because we are addicted to analytical narcissism. Our individual narcissism is both obscured and reinforced by the approved narcissism of the analytical profession.
When one partner imagines a tryst or the other imagines resisting a seduction, or when either imagines that love is a solution to misery, then they are framed in the romantic conflicts of Madame Bovary, Wuthering Heights, and Anna Karenina, reconstituting the Romanticisms of the nineteenth century and the origins of psychoanalysis, not in your or my personal childhoods, but in its own cultural childhood. This means we have to locate the narcissism of contemporary analysis within a much wider narcissism: the Romantic movement.
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Literary tradition differentiates at least four principal traits of this genre. We have already spoken of one, “idealization of the love object.” And indeed analysis idealizes the patient as an “interesting case,” “difficult patient,” “good patient,” “borderline personality.” Or consider all the literary fabulations that have made patients into eternal literary figures - Dora, Ellen West, Babette, Miss Miller, Wolfman, Ratman, Little Hands, all the way to Freud and Jung themselves in the novels The White Hotel and The House of Glass. Think of the Romanticism of our theoretical constructs: Love and Death, Empathy, Transformation, Growth, The Child, The Great Mother, The Mirror, Desire and Jouissance, and the Transitional Object. In the patient there takes place such idealized events as a hieros gamos, a quest for self-discovery and a journey into wholeness. Synchronicities outside of causal laws, transcendent functions, integration of the shadow and the realization of the Self on whom the future of civilization depends. We record our idealization of the love object, i.e., analysis, in taped and filmed analytic sessions, paying meticulous and expensive attention to trivial conversations and gestures. Analysis is in love with its idealized image.
A second essential trait of Romanticism is said to be the opposition between bourgeois society and the inner self that, with its dreams, desires and inspirations, tends to oppose, even contradict, the outer world of usual things. Psychoanalysis from its beginnings imagines itself fundamentally opposed to the civilization and its institutions of religion, family, medicine, and the political community disdained as “the collective.” Freud’s emphasis on himself as Jew and hence marginal, as well as Jung’s favorite position as heretical old hermit (despite the bourgeois lives they led and values they held) still shapes the imagination of the profession and distorts its relation to the ordinary world.
Third, imprisonment another basic theme in Romanticism, especially French and Russian. In Dostoevsky’s The Possessed, Maria’s song says: “This tiny cell suffices me, there I will dwell my soul to save.” The consulting room provides the confining physical place for the psychic imprisonment of analysis as such its devotion to the secret nooks and crannies of the private world, decorating with reconstructive rococo (i.e., psycho-dynamic intricacies) the narcissistic cell of personality.
Fourth, the Romantic genre has been defined as one that simultaneously seeks and postpones a particular end. This fits therapy. Its entire procedure seeks to restore the person to the world, yet postpones this return indefinitely. (Meanwhile, do not make major changes in your actual life. Don’t act out. The cure of analysis becomes more analysis-another analyst, another school - and the improvement of training becomes ever more hours.) The simultaneity of seeking and postponing an end occurs in the basic conundrum of every analysis, its contradictory two commandments: encourage the desires of the unconscious (Thou Shall Not Repress) and forbid gratification (Thou Shall Not Act Out). Our work is with the libidinous and our method is by way of abstention. The end is unforeseeable; there is no completion. Analysis interminable, as Freud said. This is the Romanticism of eternal longing.
There is no way out of Romanticism’s consulting room and the subjectivism of its eros, unless we turn to what is beyond its purview, turn to what narcissism and romanticism leave out: the objects, the unidealized, immediately given, actual world of dull and urban things . By turning psychological attention from the mirror of self-reflection to the world through the window, we release “object libido” to seek its goal beyond narcissistic confinement in analysis. For “object libido” is but a psychoanalytic name for the drive which loves the world, the erotic desire for Anima Mundi, for Soul in the World.
Perhaps it becomes clearer why I have been emphasizing John Keats’s remarkable phrase; “Call the world … The vale of Soul-making. Then you will find out the use of the world.” Also, you will understand why I have held myself back from that side of Jung which expounds upon meaning, Self, individuation, unus mundus, wholeness, mandalas, etc. . These large and introverted ideas envelop me and usually my patients with a grandiose, invulnerable aura. As well, I keep a distance from the current Kohut craze and Lacanian mystique. Although recognizing narcissism as the syndrome of the times (even if the groundwork for this was prepared long ago in the metaphysical catastrophe of Augustinian and Cartesian subjectivism); yet, Kohut attempts its cure by the same means of narcissistic obsession: an ever more detailed observation of subjectivity. And a subjectivity within the oppressive confines of a negatively reconstructed childhood. The child archetype dominates contemporary therapy, keeping patients (and analysts) safe from the world. For this archetype feels always endangered by the actual world, lives not in the present but in futurity, and is addicted to its own powerless infantilism. By so focusing on the child, analysis disenfranchises itself from wider realm of soul-making in the adult community of polis.
Nevertheless I must confess to a serious long-standing error on my part regarding Keats’s phrase. I always considered the world out there to be useful for making one’s own soul. Narcissism again. My soul, your soul - not its soul. For the Romantics, however, ensouling the world was a crucial part of their program. They recognized the traps of narcissistic subjectivity in their vision. Hence, they sought the spirit in physical nature, the brotherhood of all mankind or Gemeinschaftsgefühl, political revolution, and a return to the classic gods and goddesses, attempting to revivify the soul of the world with pantheism.
We must therefore read Keats as saying we go through the world for the sake of its soul-making, thereby our own. This reading suggests a true object libido, beyond narcissism, in keeping with Otto Fenichel’s definition of love. Love can only be called such when “one’s own satisfaction is impossible without satisfying the object too. If the world is not satisfied by our going through it, no matter how much beauty and pleasure our souls may receive from it, then we live in its vale without love.
There is a way out, or I wouldn’t be standing here. For my specific style of narcissism, my pose before the mirror, today is heroic. My style insists on resolution of the issues raised. The method I shall be using here follows the method which I usually empty for resolving issues. First, we look back into the history of psychoanalysis for a model; second, we turn to some peculiar bit of pathologizing for a clue; and third, we resolve problems by dissolving them into images and metaphors.
So, let us turn back to the first psychoanalytic case, Anna O., and her doctor, Josef Breuer, who, with Freud, wrote Studies in Hysteria. As you recall, after a year of almost daily sessions often of several hours, he suddenly terminated. You recall also the intensity of her transference, that she developed a hysterical pregnancy and childbirth, after Breuer tried to end the treatment. He, according to Jones, after a final visit to her “fled the house in a cold sweat. The next day he and his wife left for Venice to spend a second honeymoon which resulted in the conception of a daughter.” Whether fact or not, and Ellenberger says not, the fantasy shows a founding patron of our work escaping both cure by analysis and cure by love for the beauty of Venice and the conception of a daughter. His object libido returns from the oppressive narcissism of psychoanalysis to the Romanticism of the wider world.
This wide world remains merely that, merely a place of escape or acting out, so long as the world “out the window” is imagined only in the Cartesian model as sheer res extensa, only dead matter. To show more vividly how that world is, as Keats said, a place of soul, let us go straight through the window into the world. Let us take a walk in a Japanese garden, in particular the strolling garden, the one with water, hills, trees, and stones. While we walk, let us imagine the garden as an emblem for the peripatetic teacher or the therapeutic guide (psychopompos), the world itself as psychoanalyst showing us soul, showing us how to be in it soulfully.
I turn to the garden and to Japan because of insights given while in Kyoto gardens several years ago, and also because the garden as metaphor expresses some of the deepest longings - from Hesperides, to Eden’s paradise, and Maria’s hortus inclusus - for the world as home of the soul. So by entering into the Japanese garden now we shall be stepping through the window into the anima mundi.
First we notice that the garden has no central place to stand and view it all. We can but scrutinize a part at a time. Instead of overview and wholeness, there is perspective and eachness. The world changes as we move. Here a clump of iris, there a mossy rock. Instead of a center (with its etymological roots in the Greek kentron, “goad” or “prick,” and being compelled toward a goal by means of abstract geometric distancing), there are shifts of focus relative to the body’s location and attitude.
Second: as one strolls, each vista is seen again from a different perspective. The maple branching down to the pond edge, the floating leaves appear less melancholic after the path bends. These shifts of seeing again are precisely what the word “respect” means. To look again is to “respect.” Each time we look at the same thing again, we gain respect for it and add respect to it, curiously discovering the innate relation of “looks” - of regarding and being regarded, words in English that refer to dignity.
Third: when the garden, rather than the dream or the symptom or the unconscious, becomes the via regia of psyche, then we are forced to think anew about the word “in.” “In” is the dominant preposition of all psychoanalysis - not with, not from, not for, but “in.” We look in our souls, we look in a mirror. "In” has been utterly literally, as an invisible, spacelesss psychic stuff inside our skins, or meanings inside our dreams and symptoms, or the memories locked in the past. Interiority of the garden, however, is wholly present and wholly displayed. “In” holds the meanings of included, engaged, involved, embraced. Or, as Jung said, the psyche is not in us; we are in the psyche. This feeling of being in the psyche becomes most palpable when inside the ruins of a Greek temple, in an Egyptian tomb of a king, in a dance or a ritual, and in a Japanese garden. Jung’s phrase “esse in anima” takes on concreteness then, as it does in a clear-cut forest, a bombed city, a cancer ward, a cemetery. Ecology, architecture, interior design are other modes of feeling the anima mundi. Instead of the usual notion of psyche in body, the body strolling through the garden is in the psyche. The world itself is a psychic body; and our bodies as we move, stand, look, pause, turn, and sit are performing an activity of psychic reflection, an activity we formerly considered only mentally possible in the mirror of introspection.
Fourth: the idea of individuality also changes, for in the Japanese garden trees are trimmed at the top and encouraged to grow sideways. Rather than an individuality of the lone tree, towering (and Jung said the single tree is a major symbol of the individuating Self), these trees stretch their branches toward others. Individuality is within community and, takes its definition from community. Furthermore, each tuft in the soft branches of the pine trees is plucked by gardeners. They pull out needles, allowing emptiness to individualize the shape of each twig. It is as if nothing can be individualized unless it is surrounded by emptiness and yet also very, very close to what it is most like. Individuality is therefore more visible within the estrange separateness and close similarity, for instance, of family than in trying to be “different” from family.
Fifth: not only are aged trees supported with crutches and encouraged to flower - blossoming belonging therefore not only to youth - but also the garden includes dead trees. What more wounds our narcissism than these images of old age, these crutched, dependent, twisted and dead trees? < “At least Aurora didn’t reject Tithonus, old, didn’t allow him to lie there lonely in the House of Dawn. She often fondled him, descending into her waters, before she bathed her yoked horses with care. She, when she rested in his arms, by neighbouring India, lamented that day returned too soon.”>
Sixth: the Karesanui gardens, or Zen-inspired gardens, present mainly white sand and found stones, rarely trees. In this bare place the mind watches itself making interpretations. The nine rocks in the raked sand are a tiger family swimming through the sea; the nine rocks are mountain tops peaking through white mist and clouds; the nine rocks are simply rocks, aesthetically placed with genius. One legend after another, one philosophy, theory or literary criticism, or psychological interpretation rises to the mind and falls back into the white sand. The garden becomes wholly metaphor, both what it is and what it is not, presence and absence at once. The concrete koan of the rock garden transforms the mind itself into metaphor, its thought transient while image endures, so that the mind cannot identify with its own subjectivism - narcissism overcome.
“This Open happens in the midst of beings. It exhibits an essential feature which we have already mentioned. To the Open there belong a world and the earth. But the world is not simply the Open that corresponds to clearing, and the earth is not simply the Closed that corresponds to concealment. Rather, the world is the clearing of the paths of the essential guiding directions with which all decision complies. Every decision, however, bases itself on something not mastered, something concealed, confusing; else it would never be a decision. The earth is not simply the Closed but rather that which rises up as self-closing. World and earth are always intrinsically and essentially in conflict, belligerent by nature. Only as such do they enter into the conflict of clearing and concealing.” - Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art.
‘“Hegel introduces this notion of ‘oppositional determination” in his logic of essence, when he discusses the relationship between identity and difference; his point there is not only that identity is always the identity of identity and difference, but that difference itself is also always the difference between itself and identity; in the same way, it is not only necessity that encompasses both itself and contingency, but also - and more fundamentally - it is contingency itself which encompasses both itself and necessity. Or, with regard to the tension between essence and appearance, the fact that essence has to appear within the domain of appearances, as a hint that “appearances are not all” but are “merely appearances.”’ - Zizek, Less than Nothing>
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Finally, I shall insist that the garden is not natural; nor is psyche natural. The garden was designed and is tended to maintain an artificiality that imitates nature . In Fort Worth, Texas, a large and marvelous Japanese garden was constructed years ago. But since adequate funds were not set aside for gardeners from Japan, nature slowly destroys that garden. Without the pruners’ perverted twist to each inch of nature, the garden declines into merely another part of the forest. A garden’s elaborate display of soul-in-the-world is an opus contra naturam, like alchemy. Like alchemy, the garden is a work of intense culture. Unlike alchemy, its matter, its body, is out there, rather than inside the glass vessel.
Because the garden is artificial, as the alchemist was called artifex, all conceptions of soul must be plucked of naturalistic fallacies. The soul as opus contra naturam will not be served adequately by fallacious comparisons with organic growth, cyclical process, and myths of nature goddesses. Nor does the garden shelter the child from which grows the creative person as psychotherapy is found to believe. By insisting upon the artificiality of our work with soul, I am trying to keep us from the Romantic error of confusing the ideal (Eden and the Elysian fields; Horaiko, in Japanese) with the natural. The garden as metaphor offers a romantic vision that saves us from Naturalistic Romanticism by twisting and sophisticating nature through art.
This twist to nature that wounds idealizations of garden is presented in our culture, as in Roman culture, by our ancient god of gardens and gardeners, Priapus. Priapus is neither young nor beautiful. Unlike lovely Narcissus, unlike the semi-divine figures of Adam and Eve, Priapus is mature, bald and paunchy, and so distorted that his mother, Venus, deserted him at birth. His very presence repels romantic idealizations and the gaze into the mirror of Venusian vanity as well as Narcissus’s rapt reflection. Priapic reflection starts the other way around; his preposterous swollen condition reflects the vitality of the world. The same force displays in him as in the buds and germinating pods. By means of distortion which deceptively seems “only natural,” Priapus invites the grotesque pathologized disproportions of imagination - and imagination, says Bachelard, works by deformation.
So, when I invoke Priapus, I am not speaking of priapismus; I am not speaking of machismo; and I am not anti-feminine. Let me be quite clear. I am speaking of the generative artificiality that is the essence of the garden and of the psyche. Each dream, each fantasy, and each symptomatic complication of natural health and normative humanity bears witness to the psyche’s libidinal pleasure in exaggeration, its fertile genius for imaginative distortion. If this god of gardens is also a god of psychoanalysis - and from Charcot through Lacan the priapic has been invoked - he brings to its work an archaic reflex beyond the romantic or baroque, a rousing urgency forward and outward. (Priapus was not permitted indoors in Hestia’s closed rooms where his presence becomes only violent and obscene.)
Moreover, this god needs no mirror to know himself, for his self is wholly displayed. His nature cannot be concealed within, so he is quite free of hidden meanings and subtle innuendos that keep psychoanalysis hopefully addicted to one more revelation, one more transformation, interminable. Priapus knows no metamorphosis, no transfigurations. Priapus is without ambiguity; metaphor is forbidden to him; he displays all, reveals nothing. Like the garden, all there. The rocks are the rocks.
<"And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it." - Matthew 16:18>