The Idea That You Can Buy Milk At The Grocery Store Seems Just So Self Evident. It's Hard To Imagine

the idea that you can buy milk at the grocery store seems just so self evident. it's hard to imagine the time before pasteurization and refrigeration were common, when the milkman would come by your house every morning and lactate into a bottle for you.

@inbabylontheywept

If you haven't already read this.

I would not say that I'm a scary-looking guy. I don't dress particularly alt, just pretty basic dad rock band tees, black skinny jeans with a chain, plenty of assorted jewellery and accessories, dyed black hair and seven piercings around my head, but this is apparently enough to make old people give me A Very Long Stare. But this post isn't about them.

Today I was walking homeward, and there were these two kids (about 8-10 years old?) standing in the middle of the road. They stood there talking, one was on foot but the other one had a pastel pink bicycle, which she had apparently unintentionally stationed horizontally across the walkpath, so the two effectively blocked the whole way. So I kept my eyes on the girl with the bike the whole time I approached their happenstance roadblock.

Now, the finnish culture is both a high context culture and an introvert culture, which means that finns regularly behave like weird animals. A prolonged, maintained eye contact directed at a stranger is a mild, but certainly clear, aggressive gesture. Not as outright hostile as verbally telling them that they're in peoples' way and should move, but intended as a stern gesture to correct them anyhow. The way that dogs sometimes do that very specific low growl at misbehaving puppies, just to say "I have no intention to hurt you, but you better cut that shit out."

And the girl with the bike kept eye contact with me the whole time I approached, while pulling her bike out of the way in a pointedly slow, deliberate way. Looking down or away and moving the bike hastily would have been an apologetic gesture, and this kid clearly wanted to let me know she wasn't yielding just because she did, in fact, move out of the way. And once I was just about to pass, she said "hi?" to me, in a mildly confused and disgusted tone. Not confused by my intentions themselves, but by my evident audacity.

While this may not seem like anything odd, as I mentioned earlier, finns are an introvert culture. Talking to strangers unprompted is rude, a downright hostile act, more aggressive than prolonged eye contact but not as hostile as physically touching a stranger without warning. And I was caught off-guard so badly that I just said "hi" back to her while not slowing down as I passed them.

So just this week, I've had two random old people stare at me like they've correctly identified me as a Manmade Horror Beyond Their Comprehension, and this little girl dressed head to toe in pastels with a pink bike and sparkling unicorn backpack just glared right back at me and stared me down like Can I Fucking Help You.

I like to think of my art and general existence as a collage of beautiful mistakes.

Still waiting. The mind-worms have struck. I'm going through Jewish Holocaust jokes. I wouldn't recommend the reddit thread all that much, most of the jokes aren't great, just generally inoffensive.

Most of these come across as folk jokes, the kind that gets passed around. And they get me in that sad way. Gallows humor does something for me I guess.

I've heard most of them before somehow. But this humor does strike a chord with me.

Nothing is off limits for humor, but that's all the more reason to love the craft.

I'll leave you on this.

Tucker Carlson is horrifically addicted to Zyn. [I do not like him - he's smart enough to have been a better person. He's crafted his path of ruin.]

That's not a joke.

Bye.

Assuming Non-Malice and Deciphering Intent

A real quick sprint of a mini-rant before I shuttle myself off for social activities.

As an edgy little rat human, a creature who's diet is ironically inclined, a thing who revels in a joke never making sense and laughing at that [because so much of life and science is not making sense]: I care a lot about intent.

When many of the jokes you say are as a character, said flatly in your voice. Making a statement no sane or well adjusted human should ever say, the people who have context for me know to recognize it as a bit. The joke doesn't need to be funny, many jokes are not. But at worst it's recognized as an earnest flub.

On occasion the place my joke is coming from isn't as shored up as I thought it is. Often this happens around someone I can let those out around. The drafts often need editing. Those people I hold very dear. They assume I hold no real malice, or that I might be horrified at what my words may have implied. It's a balancing act.

On the other side of things, assuming non-malice does wonders for me. I get to give people loads of rope with which to hang themselves if they are wrong ("I'm not quite sure I see the humor in the joke. Would you care to explain it to me?" is often enough to decipher between someone who made a blunder and someone trying to disguise their bile as humor.)

Malice exists. But to better combat it I think it valuable to properly weed out the actually non-malicious. And as a bonus I find assuming non-malice and seeking clarity often gives the real freaks the chance to out themselves, while allowing most others a chance at redemption.

You can assume malice. It makes sense with enemies, but it does put strains on people who you would otherwise like.

Shit is complicated. Clarifying questions are in short supply these days.

Stay safe. Stay lovely.

Ben

Not industrial machinery.

But

"cuddle dumpster"

Sounds kinda.

one fun way of flirting is sending your partners "putting you in the cuddle <piece of industrial machinery>"

cuddle centrifuge

cuddle autoclave

You can do both. YOU CAN DO BOTH. YOU CAN DO BOTH. YOU CAN DO BOTH.

YOU CAN DO ALL OF THE ABOVE.

FILM IT? MAKE IT VISUAL?

PLAY THE TRUMPET INTO JELLO PLEASE?

I BELIEVE IN YOUR VISION. YOU HAVE A SPARKLING MIND.

*very nice*

I look forward to this. Please update soon. PLEASE PLEASE.

I can only make my own horrific versions of trumpet death trance. I need more.

I love you without my groin.

If I wasn't doing visual arts, I'd be inventing my own music genre, that would be centered around the divine idea that no matter how dark, horrible, bleak and joyless the world can get, at least I have a trumpet and the power to make it worse.