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Shelves' Schwa

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A member registered Apr 28, 2019 · View creator page →

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🥺🥺☺️

(2 edits)

At a glance. You run. Power On Self T est. Into you a mess.

Colors, your values. Hot, colors. Your need in life to press colors in is spent. Spring. Your trans. So pretty.

Dream. Yours. A fl ood of bodies, the thoughts they straddle, collapse. In result, form. As 100 and twenty people, walk. T oward one another , you converge, concluding 🐝 completing the collapse. On, you.

🐝 conclusion fi nd you. Beautiful, hold one gentle and to f i re. On a uniform pyramid of glass drops, a terrarium in a glass drop digesting its voice.

You blend the technical & the below. Natural, lift. One thought into the next.

A somatoelectric maw embittered with the e?ort of a new gender about to wilt turns any to touch the resulting load-bearing 3-fork tongue of lightning into a frolic-mudsopped crea_____ to be found by the sense of Expression, devoured. Be.

Dawn like you’re not what the whole world is doing because an executable no one’s made enough space for or to recognize becomes you.

Strike this, enjoy self, print. Time has passed. Lovely, you being.

🌺☺️🌇

🥺🥺🥺 this so feels

cw head canon

I’m on mobile, so I got to play as the greeter for the trans joy memorial! I stood to the right of the euphoria hop scotch court, where people visit from time to time, racing the top to stand on that node that is their gender or and be or remember it or thank it for what it was.

People come by and read the names on the bricks. They say hi to one another and head out to their day. No one has any questions for me, I’m just a formality and enjoy my role.

People come by the left facade to scribble joyful graffiti in the trees or read the writing on the wall that day. Some egg comes by and I can feel it. They start the hopscotch. Feeling their gender locking them in. They walk from square to square up the track. At the end, they erupt,l. Wings burst from them. They know their gender and they have met.

The road is long for them. But I’m glad this spot is available to people. i know it’s uses are what they were when this place first opened.

When the funding they secured was tooth and claw. When the hostule rezoning tried to take it out. When it was vandalized after our protest against “soft censorship” and defending free unsectioned access to queer books.

Things are quieter now. But the memorial’s still finding visits. It’s still finding love. It’s still finding itself. As we all.

Love you love this be bye

🍃📡🌊

Pretty.

The moire effect that last page is strong! The bike and the cement are my favorites so far,


Did you ever read Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century? The energy in this and that is harmonic.

Your day, be this.

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Thank you for making this. I’ve been neglecting my internal spaces. Thinking if I took care of others, I could ignore cleaning up my own. Like an apartment I’d never go back to if I could just find another person to stay out all night or week or month or season or two with.

Your day, be lovely

A sky across from selves we pass pulls water made breath fate’s cast in us, or hard things we can do

Polychronic shadows equilize, raise contradiction — lit during reliquary jam, episode 12 sunrise, sunset

Spreads

Screenshots of spreads here thanks better solution once things are better for me https://photos.app.goo.gl/vWy9e4wLeu2aHgAM8

I look at you and I see something more important for my ribcage to guard than my own heart. Protections assigned invert, envelop our world, space held. What my cage lifts to connect a love to. I find the dirt or am in it haphae and neurons gather under fire voices and set. I roll over in a corkscrew, limbs made consumate earth shattering faults. Fog drapes me like a gown, or I feel your breath. We tie our cores together, or horizons find our cliff to break on. Aurora lick the sky, or our toe scratch’s out a laugh. As we read this, or take celestial action.

Thank you for making this. I needed the text file

Pretty.

Having a device is a pleasant component. You can leak your desire into a voice recording. You can multiverse pre-gen playbooks you love but know you’ll probably never get to play till the end of time. A Ragamuffin, a Knight’s Templar, a maple leaf, an Infinite Maw, a Deep Apiarist. You can mark up a screenshot each with a new color each song to find the change caught in its rocks. You can collage everyone’s screenshots superimposed on a supernova.

Thank you for writing this! 🌻🌊🌌

We send the spaceship into orbit, parked, or pull out stakes and poles from a tent and head to the stop.

space a moment held, a song — sung during reliquary jam, episode 11 restful apocalypse.

A point-and-click adventure game in the immersive sim genre, like those silly -Simulator games, but with the unreal open world budget of square enix. From a game coding/data architecture framing, way ít handles conditionals is a marvel of absurd emergent social situations. – the same place I see your game shining as well. I hope your day dries good!

Loved all the nature in the visuals

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These guys are so cute!

Love the idea of the group making a tapestry together 💚

All the details, whimsy, overwealth, and love of a hitman game

Aww the goodbyes in here are sweet. Clock as town mechanic is structured in a thematic way that captures the bittersweet nature of “wish I could stay” in a heartwarming way

I like the use of local history for magic in the work. Spooky statues

Powerful. Have You Heard About the Beast who’ll sell you chocolate from bed.

Noblinjam has a few hours left, in case you wanted to join! I hope your day does good. And thanks again for the read

pretty

Love how these are the quiet places where the delicate, wild, coversations are tucked away in my heart. Thank you for making this! 💚

Thank you for the pause. Have you read moon trading card gamee They hosted a cozy moon jam I think you would enjoy satelliting for a bit!

This issue has big Burn Down, Rise Up energy. If you haven’t read it, we could do chapter reads here!

Pen+paper Antichamber

Aww this is sweet thank you!!!

Thanks for connecting. I’m in a scary place tonight. I made a mistake, a connection too deep, with someone a few weeks back. The bad things in anothers life, the death of the one who raised them, domestically debilitating ex, workplace disaster trauma, the encounter, and the hotel room a free doors down. We cannot afford each other. The bad things finding me echoes too strongly the paths another took through me. And they hurt. And the hurt s deeper than the meaning. I know I need to leave. I’ve never felt fear if it’s this. I know I need to leave.

I talked it out with some people I say good night to when I checked your message. I met them taking down a dead limb from a sycamore, scared to hit the person’s car other limbs of the tree is under.

I grab a second branch of the limb this person I just walked up to is tugging or walking down. When the branch is it’s farthest. I ask them to walk towards me. I ask if theyve ever done a maypole ceremony. The limb falls on the word ceremony. They offer me some of the wood. I think of the sight of the person I’ve met’s firepit, covered with expellants of their trailer with pop-out slide. I decline.

I take two hits. A won’t take it from me until it seems I cough, as I do and they do. I talk out how I got here. Between two oceans. Trying to get to Eugene to start school again. Staying because I met someone. Who could use my ear. And then my words. My hand, my presence, my thoughts, my mind, my being, my next to them, respectfully.

It all became who could please what’s made by being between us. And bring the other over making middles meaning. I’m scared. I need to leave. I want to leave this right enough to hurt than it misses.

Thank you again for seeing

“The sky crosses your mind,” like a bird

beautiful. I am a decomposing leaf composing a leaf I’ll never see. I love this. I love future-me. I can’t help myself, but I can do one thing for future-me, and maybe that’ll add up to be me and enough and okay.

⚠️💖🛌🏻

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.

"Speak, sing to me, caw & fuss   
among what brittle branches
left, I have opened my windows;

I am listening.
Speak,

You hellbender —— giant salamander you are"

 - Nikole Brown

THE RAIN

. COMING AGAIN

. . IS GREEN

Hello!

I am alive. I am in the woods. I found 

The picture  that inspired these above words.

    ("poster")

The picture is on info kiosks in this Forest.

These are beautiful.

Any vision comic illustrator partner in future installment?

I ask i read these installations each segment a page of a zine I’m in an anarchist book store to come across below the window looking out a back alley spackled with dandilions or homes would-be for tiny insects this window is level with. Reading, I’m a small bug looking for a home if or I ask over and over “is this my home?” An ogre, junctures tell me no but there’s room under their boot for a pest my size. In another I’m dodging cats and carts with boxes of books down loading. I’m a look and look and look up from the zine. I stop reading. It’s $22. I leave. I home the zine.

Thank you for writing again this again.

See you again 🍵⭕🦄

(1 edit)

🏡🚙🚪🏕️

⛺🐙🍚🚽

​Yay! Unilleligibility, approaching it from typo/glitch/neurodiversity into comfortable a fire faces I don’t fully recognize the way the flame licks reality from them too many legs on making dry panimatedaint thank you for making I can’t talk but something makes me

Bright and I will be going from Asheville NC to Key West FL to Portland OR throughout April.

screenshot hydrological map of united states. There’s a line on the map. The line is drawn with maybe silly string shot by a defunctioning printer. The line travels 1:4:2 units south:west:north.

Along the way, if somewhere you want to play in a park or parking lot or café or hiking trail or stoop, signal me, and I can make a stop!

(I’d also be grateful if I could use your shower)

Bye!

Yay! I was hoping this would happen! Things like this make days of me smile.

Thanks! Edited to a different source. An artist I listen to was how I heard about the issues of labor on the oceans, so I linked. Won’t anymore. I hope your day does good.

I’m listening to a psalm for the wild-built right now and your game came immediately to mind.

I love the day cycles! And how the squirrel sprite is a cat sprite with all but 2 body pixels shifted to the tail. You’ve made a sweet story, thanks for making this!

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space travel is going to turn into boring f_____g work where the shifts last years and years.

Did you ever listen to stories about deep sea criminals? Its social and labor and tech issues in space, but today. You might connect with it. ~~commonwealthclub.org/events/archive/podcast/ian-urbina-director-outlaw-ocean-project~~ nevermind, Ian is swindling money, here’s a geek with a satellite tracking the same issues: https://theconversation.com/thousands-of-ocean-fishing-boats-could-be-using-forced-labor-we-used-ai-and-satellite-data-to-find-them-152166

There’s also this episode of x minus 1 to check which everyone seems to hate. https://archive.org/details/OTRR_X_Minus_One_Singles/XMinusOne55-09-01016Shanghaied.mp3 But i like it for how it captures the length of time.

Thank you for getting some stresses of technology down on paper. I am glad any time I see they’re being documented and shared. Bye!

(3 edits)

I was listening to someone earlier today exploring eroding memories and dissolving context. Another framing. An agenda. Found it, (cw: big data surveillance) Data You

Im glad you put this together. Yours has a softer aspect, a fuzzier approach I’m more comfortable thinking through and around.

Bye!

Thank you for stopping when you felt comfortable. I’m getting used to it. Tired. Stopping. It feels good to see so many entries be open about how tired they are. How they make what they made, wanting themselves more then making do.

You express so much and sound tired. I feel I step into a rest areas side curation on an asteroid. I have flown too long too drowsy. It’s like you’re in this corner and uninstall and duck unconsciously under a salmon cctv monitor and see me. You dictate the first curated wall “at left” before I can get “oh I was just…”.

Where I’ve forgotten I thought to of excused myself, wrong hatch, my dimension has wibbled. Guns and passion swap definitions if clothes. Throat muscles crunch words I store there turned silicone or I swallow. Something made of me supplies water. To enter the day we’ve made, I turn, leaving. I stop at the survey box. I stop when I’m tired.

we would be playing games with a plethora of tactile encounters with various types

Did you ever hear the story of the puppy channel ( https://www.thisamericanlife.org/233/starting-from-scratch/act-one-24#puppy-love )? Thank you for making this! Juxtaposing cemeteries for single-life tamagotchis with the cover image you have a neural net (a new kind of tamagotchi where the tamagotchi dies the moment their art piece is complete) create for you shook me up. I want to think more about this.