#cat: gnar

[mcyt-cats]

Some cryptid kitties to stare into your soul 0.0

#mcyt #mcytblr #niki nihachu #nihachu #cat: mai #cat: zuko #cat: gnar

[conarcoin]

List of MCYT Cats

I was bored. Links to each cat's @mcyt-cats tag. I didn't include every small CC but I included pretty much all major ones. Ordered by owner name, please let me know any I missed!

There were a lot of cats with only one post so I didn't look through all of them, so I probably missed some

Aimsey: Oli, Pip

Andivmg: Zuko

Antfrost: Finley, Floof

Astelic: Theo

Baghera Jones: Bonnie

Benex: Mauzi

BerthaDarling: Milkloaf, Pepper

Bizly: Callisto

CaptainPuffy: Blue, Bubbles, Peach, Penny

Cellbit: Gengibre, Tofu

Condifiction: Felony

ConnorEatsPants: Bumper, Kat

Cxvlxn: Chicken Nugget

Docm77: Gracie

Dream: Patches

Elodiegif: Pixie

Eret: Duck, Goose, Mouse

Fundy: Boots

GeorgeNotFound: Luca

Ghostyjpg: Toast

GoodTimesWithScar: Jellie

Grian: Maui, Pearl

Hypnotizd: Max

IAmTy: Scout

impulseSV: Luna

InTheLittleWood: Kiki, Pascal

Jack Manifold: Pluto, Saturn

Jaiden Animations: Tostada

James Marriott: Otto

Joey Graceffa: Sakura

Jojosolos: Toaster

Joko: Poopy (aka Gomez)

Jschlatt: Jambo, "Burnt Jambo"

JustAMinx: Cornelius, Sylum

Karl Jacobs: Grey

Katherine Elizabeth: Grayson

Krinios: Ozzy

Krtzyy: Appa

LDShadowLady: Buddy

Michaelmcchill: Leela

Milomumbles: Jack

Mumbo Jumbo: Benji

Nihachu: Gnar, Mai, Zuko

PearlescentMoon: Dakotah, Nugget, Olive

Quackity: Tiger

Rubius: Wilson

Sapnap: Lily, Milo, Mogwai, Naomi

SeaPeeKay: Bella

Shubble: Rocket, Star, Starlord

SlicedLime: Ellie

Smajor1995: Elle

Snifferish: Fifi, Maya, Satsuki, Winston

Solidarity: Flick, Norman

SootRhianna: Toph

StacyPlays: Milquetoast, Pipsqueak

Stampylongnose: Ori

Sylvee: Niko, Tesla

Technoblade: Pumpkin

Traves: Kimchee

Tubbo: Rocky

VintageBeef: Sage

Willowmvp: Oz

ZombieCleo: Atlas, Glados

ZloyXP: Red, Tiny

#mcyt #mcytblr

[nihachu-updates]

Niki's new cat is called Gnar, named after the league of legends character!

Holding up a picture of the character and pointing at her new kitten she said "this is Gnar from league of legends and the is Gnar from niki nihachu"!

#nihachu #nihachu updates

[good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic]

I'm gonna be rewatching and replaying this episode of the podcast a lot. Glenn and Charlie were on something and I haven't laughed this hard in ages!

Glenn providing sweet, sweet fan service to the creeps with those fuckin arms out. All the lads looked good today.

THEY KNOW WE LIKE GLENN'S BAND TSHIRTS!!!!

Glenn opening with a Take on t-shirt sleeve lengths

Sports talk! Which means we get to hear Rob beg Glenn to watch his shows and Glenn repeatedly blow him off and complain about sports

"What I don't enjoy is a one hour game taking four hours" - Glenn dragging American football (accurate)

"I'll hear you talk about a 4 hour play you were riveted by" - yes Rob, call! Glenn! out!

"Pounding someone and getting pounded by somebody." That's what gets Glenn off. No I will not provide context.

"IASIP is the 2nd place of tv shows" / "Ooh I think we're 15th place"

D&Bs did an advertisement flop when this episode aired?! Love the history lesson.

Apparently FX gets all the product placement money!

There's gonna be an episode on the current economic shitshow and inflation this season — called it!

Charlie and Glenn really went all out riffing with all the little voices they like to do and they have the best comedic chemistry!

Rob's mind voice to John Wayne and studio head impressions to surfer bros, and all hilarious as fuck

"John Wayne seems like a bit of a pussy" lmao

John Wayne the surfer bro shredding gnar reminded me of their Keanu from Point Break bit — funniest shit in ages

Shooting trash out of the sky should be in a Sunny episode

Aliens are jelly people

Rob's cat is called Moose? Jack Bauer was the original.

Thank you for the cat videos on the side.

Moose beat off a hawk's attack!

They looked good today so I filled up on screenshots.

#yeah so what if I took a fuckton of screenshots. it's very cultural. #john wayne surfer/skier bro shredding wave 'nar was one of the funniest riffs from the podcast in a while #glenn and charlie firing on all cylinders today #comedy gold #glenn's ability to pull the wildest faces in underappreciated #always sunny podcast #tasp #iasip podcast #the great recession #65 the great recession #rcg #glenn howerton #charlie day #rob mcelhenney #megan ganz #iasip #sur #sur rambles

[evpatya]

OK MY REGRETE-OC CONCEPT!

Glerpy

ROBLOX VERSION

he/xe/any.

HP: 200-230 (in-game height of a normal player)

Glerpy is gnarpian scientist, appearing on the "area 51" floor.

He is hard-working, talanted and just clever.

At some period of time, he could become insane, but because of somebody he didnt.

Glerpy is calm, friendly, not so rude, and its hard to piss him off.

He comes to elevator when all the entering doors are opened (LIKE DOORS IN FRONT OF EVELATOR, YOU GOT IT?)

Some facts abt this stoopid

•he had 5 redesigns

• SOMETIMES wears glasses 🤓

•his tail is kinda heavy, but not at all, he can move it normally.

•He knows some earth languages

•Doesent like Gnarpy, HATES XEM.

•ACTUALLY he is like an alien maine coon (cat specie), and because of that his canon height is abt 180-184cm

• he has sibling

• before one incident his glowing parts were white (WRITTEN LOWER somewhere)

•hates loud sounds and fast movements

•has many specialities

•helps spud and in past tried to save him

•tries to explore every creature from evelator

•has a pet, he found it in lab someday, and tried to explore it, but now keeps as a pet

•a little bit afraid of wallter

•IN FACT he could die any moment lol but i dont want this so its just a thing

•He has a purple splotch on his back

•LOVES COFFEE VERY MUCH

•plays electric guitar

IN-EVELATOR PHRASES:

entering:

"Zalutationz."

"Oh, i heard itz."

"Herez am i againz"

Sprayed:

"ZTOP IT! NOW! pleaze."

"That waz cold."

"Iz thiz even zafe?"

Tomato:

"I WIZH YOU THE ZAME, SHLOOSH!!!."

" Dizguzting. "

Snowball:

"OW, ok, ztop pleaze."

" That iz unzcomfortable."

"Ztop."

PETALS:

"Oh, cute."

"I like itz."

"Too muchz.."

FULL EVELATOR:

"I will ztay here."

"Keep going."

"Notz my turn."

"Ztrange..."

Staying in evelator:

"Well...we werez born to dzie."

"Zee, how the brain playz around..."

"I forgzot that file on the table...uuuh."

DIALOGUES.

Pest:

gl - oh, can i azk zome queztionz?

p - no.

gl - And why?

p - None of your business

gl - Ok? that waz for scienze.

p - Stupid.

gl - *angry noise*

Lampert:

gl- WAIT, you arez reallyz lamp?

l - Yes.

gl - Notz meeting comingz-alive lampz everyday. Will youz glow if maybe plug yourz tail in?

l - Yes.

gl - Interezting.

PartyNoob:

gl - Oh, i zee you likez partiez?

p - How did you get it????

gl - You lookz like a perzon who haz juzt returned frzom party

p - Oh, right, haha!

gl - nize to meet you.

Wallter:

gl - Uuh, why arez you zo tall and....wall-alike?

w - Because of gray stuff.

gl - It is actually cement...Smells so.

w - I like it anyways.

gl - Ok?...

Manequinn Mark:

gl - How arez you movingz? Like....you havez only one leg, not looking alzike leg.

M - Heya! I walk normally.

gl - Oh, zorry.

M - Nothing. Everything's normal!

gl - Alzo, i would like to azk, why were youz lookingz on thzat...wall guy zo? Are you friendz?

M - Kind of...

gl - great.

Bive

B - Oh, wow..huh..i...didn't see you before....

gl - Well, hellzo.

b - Uuuh.. can i ask you... something?

gl -Zhure.

b - What is with your...uuuhh tail??

gl - I dontz want to tzalk about it....

b - oh...UUUHM ok.

Gnarpy:

Gn- Gworp shleeep zop, NORP!!!

Gl - Shlok znob gner veeb.

Gn- WORP ZEB GNARPISH VE!

Gl - Qwobbo seb nor znor.

Gn - GNORP SHWOBBLE! Kzapt neez.

Gl - Zorp vor verb.

ONE bIIiiiIig THING

—What are the horns, and why is his glowing parts are like this?

Because of epidemia, what was appearing on Gnars. The main things were:

-Tiredness

-Hallucinations

-The purple spots appeared on gnarpians, and cryatals started growing from them

—(IDK HOW TO NAME IT but) antennas and other glowing parts changed to purple (PINK OR SM LIKE THIS ok??)

So, Glerpy made tests on himself and like is half infected, because of vaccine failure. But the infection ist spreading. Anyways, the vaccine was invented (not by his group of scientists), and many lives saved.

btw he had 5 references and I LOVE HIM sm

ALSO SOME OF MY FAAAAAAV ARTS FROM FRIENDS AND JUST SOME GUYS!!!!

#regretevator #npc #roblox #fanart #gneep gnarp #fan character #oc #gnarp gnap #gnarpian

[baurbiediv]

ADVENTURES OF AMP PLAYLIST

(ongoing, will be updated frequently!)

FIRST PERSON SHOOTER - DRAKE, FT. J. COLE

GOT DA SACK - LIL GNAR, FT. G HERBO

RODEO DR - GUNNA

AGORA HILLS - DOJA CAT

COZY - BEYONCÉ

IDGAF - DRAKE, FT. YEAT

I’M ON ONE - FUTURE, FT. DRAKE

SWERVO - G HERBO & SOUTHSIDE

FEAR OF HEIGHTS - DRAKE

BALL FOREVER - EST GEE

100+ - EST GEE & EST MARTI, LIL BABY

3 HEADED GOAT - LIL DURK, POLO G, LIL BABY

LOOKING FOR THE HOES - SEXYY RED

VIRGINIA BEACH - DRAKE

LITTLE BIT - DRAKE, FT. LYKKE LI

LITTLE BIT - LYKKE LI (ORIGINAL VER.)

PASSIONFRUIT - DRAKE

BEST I EVER HAD - DRAKE

TUMBLR GIRLS - G. EAZY, FT. CHRISTOPHER ANDERSSON

FAR ALONE - G. EAZY, FT. E-40 & JAY ANT

CREEPIN’ - METRO BOOMIN, FT. 21 SAVAGE & THE WEEKND

BARE WIT ME - TEYANA TAYLOR

KARMA - SUMMER WALKER

ANOTHER ROUND - FAT JOE, FT. CHRIS BROWN

FASHION KILLA - A$AP ROCKY

MERCEDES - BRENT FAIYAZ

PENTHOUSE SHORDY - DOM CORLEO

BELIEVE ME - PARTYNEXTDOOR, FT. RIHANNA

#masterlist

[kurumi-igarashi]

Me to yuumi: WHY ARE YOU SO CUTEEEEE

And then the meanest cat of them all, Gnar: How about me? Am I cute now?

[behindheterochromiaeyes]

my cat "gnar" is my super hero and savior.

#depressing poem #depressing post #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #depressiv #depressing quotes #mentally ill #mentally exhausted #mentalheathawareness #mentally tired #mental disorder #transgender #trans man #ftm #tiktok #tyrolean #life quotes #quoteoftheday #relatable quotes #deep qoute #deep quotes #deep thinking

[y2kbugs-moved]

Playing as Gnar, who is supposed to be incredibly difficult to master and not a beginner choice, is like trying to tame a very feral cat who will claw you to shreds. It's worth it because he is adorable and needs love.

[arc-knights]

|| i have some spoilery words : (spoilery words below)

that cat is such a hilarious shite, mentioning ciel who never gets mentioned again after Vytal, pointing out the uncomfortableness between Ozpin and Oscar sharing a body, truly the cat asked the questions we all asked while watching the show. 10/10 amazing character.

episode was about half the trailer we got so yeah , kinda saw alot of it coming.

crwby giving me a Rusted Knight mention every episode is like a jailor feeding me rations as a gnar at the cage for food though like FOUR EPISODES DEEP WHERE IS MY BOY.

lastly when Weiss mentions the Carpenter and The Rusted Knight, then calls one sweet and the other handsome I squealed alittle and the parellels are juicy rn. Despite knowing she wasn't talking about Jaune nor can we confirm that he even is the Knight the idea will inspire art to come. >:)

#;;ooc #rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 spoilers #spoilers

[mcyt-cats]

=^_^=

#mcyt #mcytblr #niki nihachu #nihachu #cat: gnar

[godly-tomatoe]

One match up pls 🙏🏼 Male and Female pls

Okay I am 5”1, got basic dark brown hair thats about shoulder length and wavy, hazel/greenish eyes and have a pair of glasses. I study English but German is my mother tongue. I am rather bubbly and talk a lot and fast but I also really shy when I like someone. People can read me like an open book 😂 In terms of music I like a lot of 80s music but also Musicals and more rock or popular stuff - really a huge mix of everything

I am a very touchy feely person and always make sure my friends and family know how much I love and care about them! Oh and I have an orange cat named Gnar 🐈

Thank you so much for doing this! Soo excited to see who you match me up with 💕

Hi! thank you so much! I hope its The Quarry you are interested in and if not please let me know which fandom you're into and ill make another!!

I match you with... Dylan! He at first was attracted to you because of how short compared to him you are (sorry lmfao) and would definitely pick on you about it. once he got a good look at your features he was awestruck at how well your dark brown hair fits your hazel eyes, even if you say its basic. if you have an accent, he absolutely adores it but makes fun of it at first. when you guys start to become interested in each other he notices how quiet and almost avoidant you become around him so he thinks he did something wrong and he ends up distancing himself from you. you ask the other counselors if he is upset towards you but everyone is like "he thinks you hate him lol" so one night you ask him to meet you at a bench by the pond around sunset and you guys talk it out and you're like. "I thought it was obvious I like you lol" and he's like "oh... whoops!" and than y'all laugh it out and watch the sunset together while holding hands. when you guys start to date he likes to ask you to try to teach him German but in the end he just likes hearing you speak your native tongue. you guys will always be with each other either sharing earbuds and listening to a playlist either he made you or you both made together. he loves showing you off to the other counselors and playing with your hair, rubbing your back, holding your hand, leaning on you, ect. ect. he likes showing personal attention in public because it makes him feel special, but he always makes sure you're comfortable with it first. He admires how caring you are and how thoughtful and loving you can be to the people you care for, he also loves to see your pictures of Gnar! everyone thinks you too are the perfect couple and loves seeing you two together!

(I was also thinking Abigail, I think she would love how you speak German fluently and would be absolutely entranced. and you guys seem very alike so you'd match together like puzzle pieces!)

Have a great day love!

#the quarry #the quarry x reader #fanfic #dylan lenivy

[nihachu-updates]

Cat instagram story! (ft. Gnar and Mai)

#nihachu #nihachu updates #instagram

[titanofthedepths]

League fic in which all the kid champs get together and play warrior cats except Gnar thinks its real and everyone else thinks hes just really into the game

[ckcker]

Anne's Tube

Although I did not burst my head through the wall of the plastic surgeon’s office waiting room, the material of the wall was certainly capable of receiving burst.  I had always breezily, instinctively, and, without any other option, lived in a drift of my delusion.  In fact I had never professionally put my head through a wall before.  The muses dared me; I relented.  Only in the past three years had I truly come to understand the surveillance center ruling my senses was delusional on the order of a miniature.  Of course knowing this about my instincts aroused almost zero implication or behavioral accelerant.  No changes were made.  Without any other remedy available, I decided to try and be proud of my swollen instincts.  Somehow all of this self-compressive theorizing was apparently, in my roomy interpretation, coincidental to the more current and primal yearning to self-investigate the limits of drywall with my wandering head.  

In any case, I also entertained a belief in something incompatible. That, to become a verified citizen of the world, my actions that might help others, and which might bring an aura of peace to even the smallest interaction with both friend and stranger, could only begin with a less delusional self.  Simply, the colossal gorp of my perception had to be cropped with strategy before it was unleashed upon the public, who of course had their own delusions both in wisp and bloat forms, depending.  ‘Not good when delusions battle,’ I scrote-slurred a furtive ‘obvs.'  But inconveniently, reducing my delusion did not increase the viability of my revenge, and additionally, yes—wait why did I want to be a citizen of the world again. Instead I chose to accept myself, the nurse brought me into an overlit and yellowing room before I had another chance to run theory.  

Now and again, an unusually long white hair re-emerged from my chin as my DNA posited it was meant to do.  In typical response, I would execute another shave for another week of safety.  Except now I would stop.  Now I had decided that all people must observe the cascade of my single chin hair, acknowledge it, and respect it as a sacred example of the inevitable.  That I didn’t need to choose anything, that the body had made the decision for me long ago.  A relax, both immense and restoratively gnar.  Fugue states lapsed into fug, which was a dream come true.  Swampy and also sibylline acknowledgement of the hormonal math orchestrating my regular degular ass.  But what could be more authentically me than this extra long, widely-considered-disgusting-as-well-as-unsightly and also slightly curled white hair?  It sprung from the buried arc of my 100% unique DNA, and my apathy towards its release immediately positioned me as an individualist rebel in the classic and consummately popular American sense.  There was no one else in the world who had such a long white hair at such a position on the face, with such an angle as it extended, and honestly such a subtle serve in its restrained curl.  If we are to respect the beauty and primordial variety of nature, did it not expand the scope of consciousness and visual ecstasy to respect and accept all of nature’s scenarios and adventurous details?  With the proper unfurling of this white hair that positioned me as unfuckable, did I not conjoin myself more fundamentally with the intentions of something much more bountiful and giving? I both believed this to be true and immediately turned lonely, which I considered interesting.    

The nurse was radiantly neutral in tone and acknowledged with grace that I wasn’t allergic to anything except cats.  There was no indication in her face that my divulging a cat allergy was not very useful info in the context of a plastic surgery operation, which made me feel impressively at ease.  On further examination and insistent eye contact, it also seemed that the pupil of her left eye had an unusual circumstance in which it seemed to overflow the common perfectly circular boundary, instead spilling out towards the lower eyelid as if a soft black ink gently flowing through an agéd manuscript on an angled desk in a quiet 18th century New England village, which meant I would actually not be able to add this experience to my list of things that are 100% free of poetry.  Within the arena of her generic grey eye, just a plash more blue than a back country gravel road and the ideal color of a down comforter, pillowcase and sheet set in a formidably restrained home goods store, which of course, came outlined with panache in a receding gradient of pearly reflective neon orange eye shadow, one could find the rapturous evidence of an individual construction.  Yes all bodies could be said more or less to exhibit that, but here was the proof via mini-spectacle.  In this anomaly of the eye, production was made dazzlingly visible.  “I don’t vote,” I informed the nurse when she casually mentioned the upcoming gubernatorial election.  She laughed uneasily, “the doctor will be in here soon,” then exited the room.  

As the anesthesia flexed through territory, and the wait for the surgeon grew in indifferent magnitude, I decided to explore the condition of my nurses’s eye.  Like most genetic irregularities of the eye it had a beautiful name, which was coloboma.  But what is the beautiful name for my single long white chin hair I wondered with searing jealousy.  A search brought the standard flow of info: colobama, from the Greek word for ‘curtailed.’  Normal tissue is missing from the eye, occurs during gestation.  A hole forms.  I nimbly maneuvered from the ophthalmology information page to a lo-res picture of legendary dog/cartoon provocateur Droopy, an obvious aspirational reference for my sour reconfiguration.  The surgeon would respect me greatly for my jowl-dropping preparedness, I glanced at the flatscreen on the wall. Currently on view was a slideshow produced by default settings in a computer’s native image viewing application and showing a series of conceived-as-calming nature shots from around the world, which calmed me.  A long breath fed my soul in sync with a serendipitous glance at a motion blur capture of a stunning white rapid river in the Canadian Rockies, soon I would look like Droopy.  The slideshow advanced to an immense glacial lake, bright green and extremely flat and calm — my face bloomed with numbness.  

Yes, the cosmetic unbinding of my eyelid skin was not a beautiful indication of the unique specificity nature had stomped upon my body since birth.  It could never scale the heights of intrinsic meaning provided by my long white chin hair.  But I wanted it, I understood my holistic rant on accepting at all costs the untethered power of my DNA was plainly opportunistic and born of desperation and, like the majority of my arguments designed for my self-actualizing, hypocritical.  Perhaps, ‘blow me,’ I clapped back at my internal monitoring system, ‘you already know I am inherently delusional.’ I put forth that delusion and inconsistency of reasoning were also in my DNA and thus worth celebrating as well as gorgeous.

I continued to wait, staring at the slideshow, then glancing at the library of pamphlets facing the patient from the side and one suggesting a woman’s face that has collaborated with botox, accompanied by a sentence reading, “Everyone Will Notice. No One Will Know.” My mind reeled with the staggering construction of this copy just as the surgeon’s rapid double-knock and immediate follow-up entrance had finally arrived.  She walked into the room quite professionally and simultaneous to her lilting birdsong of “hellooooo.”  

In my defense, the solution to press fast forward on the gravity surrounding my eyes was simply conceived to follow the line nature had already implanted in me and just a lot faster.  I was certainly not depraved enough to do something like fundamentally alter the structure of my nose or rapidly engorge the various fun bags, I believed.  Anyone encountering my grizzled husk in a futuristic timeline would instantly be able to recognize me as the logical progression of a friend they once had, long ago.  “You don’t notice good plastic surgery, you only notice bad plastic surgery,” the surgeon had chanted at me during my earlier consultation.  In my specific plastic surgery scenario, this statement only greatly confused me.  I desperately wanted people to notice and to know, and to understand I was to be passed over, deemphasized, despite their noticing.  I did not express this to the plastic surgeon but instead only smiled with middling restraint in response.  

“Now — I know you’ve thought long and hard about this decision.  I’ll be frank, and like I said before, this is the strangest request for a procedure that I’ve ever had.  You’re already here, and I’m ready to give you what you want... Just one last time, I’m going to ask.  Are you sure you want to do this?”  The surgeon smiled in some vile nexus of unease and sympathy.  Categorically I swirled.  

The question keyed up a powerhouse waft of cinematic mood.  Lit by gauzy and elevating three-point lighting developed by the amazing labor of old Hollywood craft, I remembered: I had friends once, in fact I even had lovers. I had experienced a real past in a specific and consistent location. The klieg light toasted me in its virile intensity, quite literally and sans exaggeration I was Greta Garbo but I once had understood the importance of interpersonal connection, not that I knew much about Garbo though I remembered she wanted to be ‘left’ alone or ‘let’ or whatever.  Self-help typically instructed that looking to the past could only derail what I want to get done now but yes I had had a past, I held up my phone to the surgeon ready with my most meaningful picture of Droopy and unleashed a brand new never-heard-before whimper variant that evoked a dry mixture of ‘eh,’ ‘yes’ and ‘meh.’   The surgeon looked at the picture of Droopy then turned away, “yeah I remember.  Ok great let’s get started.”  

She began to putter about in a corner, organizing tools of some kind.  “We just have to wait a little bit for the nurse, she’s attending another patient,” to which I nodded.  A silence of unknown meaning was then significantly stretched over us.  Feeling its power, I felt compelled to ask a small talk sort of question of the surgeon, who went by Dr. Anne.  “How about that governor’s race.” Still turned away from me, Dr. Anne maintained her putter capacity, holding up a long plastic tube and inspecting it in silence.  I was unsure if she heard me until she turned around and implemented a decidedly wry smile.  

“I don’t usually talk politics with my patients.  You understand.” I nodded, particularly as I didn’t care, and she re-commenced her tool inspection, especially taken with the integrity of the long plastic tube as seen in radiant overhead fluorescent light.  Thinking our exchange safely concluded, Dr. Anne presented whiplash as she elected to follow up on her universally socially accepted kabosh pertaining to the politics question, turning around. “All I will say is, if you’re not a liberal at twenty-five, you have no heart.  And if you’re not a conservative at thirty-five, you have no head. Churchill,” and smiled.  

“I’m twenty-eight,” I responded, to which she again smiled and said, “well…” with hands in the mid-air and eyebrows raised, implying a folksy eternalism in the so it goes tradition.  An important social gesture that almost meant nothing and whose implications and meaning were pretty unclear, yet which safely moved the stream of communication along.  I felt an exiguous smidge of crotchety pivot in the rudder of my busted bod, “are you sure Churchill said that?”  

Without looking at me, Dr. Anne securely confirmed, “yeah Churchill.” 

“Hmm, I’m not so sure.”

She calmly placed the tube down on a waiting metal tray and pulled out her phone, unbothered and intrinsically pleasant, “ok let’s see.”  As she tapped with intent, I lay on the patient chair.  My upper face now quite incapable of experiencing pain, I found myself again prodding the past, wandering shredded archives of old friends, their faces, particularly the one who had recently written me, who seemed fated to die by suicide, I waited to hear the answer to the Churchill question.  Dr. Anne tapped, she said “hmm.”  Her face dampened in its consternation.  Silence as she seemed to renew the inquiry, perhaps re-wording a search query.  “Well this says” and she trailed off, we used to stay up all night by the river my friend and I, it felt quite natural to do so.  To swim in the river at night, to drink beer in the river.  Also, to sit under the bridge overpass.  Far too unaware to penetrate the technique of our sadness.  Decisions were made in an underexamined system of surges and wafts.  Dr. Anne looked at her phone.  Her face was professional, and conveyed confusion professionally.  “Well.  I guess he didn’t say it.  Or, maybe he did.  The information is a little unclear.” 

I had very much loved being drunk beneath the overpass at night.  The length of night appeared to elevate and unwind us from our thoughtless little moods, what might happen was crucially uncharted, how heinous and nostalgic I was permitting my evaluation to be.  How could I ever be vital in my crusade to ‘seize the day’ if I remained obsessed with the past?  “I like to say: if you’re not a liberal at twenty-five, you have no heart.  And if you’re not a conservative at thirty-five, you have no head.  But if you’re not apolitical, abyssal and ethically indifferent at twenty-eight, you have no hole.” Dr. Anne’s face showed interesting levels of disgust and turmoil, and as she left to go see where the nurse was I strongly resisted adding and you know which hole I mean but actually I didn’t know.  It was certainly out of contemporary character for me to showcase my fraternal past in the sheath of longing.  I lay still, waiting for the surgeon, I couldn’t stop.  I did not usually long; I preferred the past as an arena for combative analysis.  I struggled to understand what had launched these awoooooooooooooogaa cartoon wolf eyes that, instead of elongating outwards at the target of some voluptuous pre-Code hottie spotted across the room at a jazz club, shot inwards through the clammy vortex of my shimmering moss-lined memory, as I lay prone in static wide shot awaiting the initiation of my unique coming-of-old-age ritual.  Perhaps, some confusing half-step crisis resulting from my unnatural combination of three-fourths and quarter life into one single timeline?  

In any case, I was now victimized by misremembering the good times.  My friend and I, throwing stale baguettes found in a grocery store dumpster at the Tyvek siding of an ugly mid-construction apartment complex on an eighteen degree night.  Laughing, conceiving of this moment in my mind as “feeling free.”  

My friend, suggesting I listen to a song he loves, putting the headphones over my head as he smokes a cigarette. I look at the river on a heavy and humid summer night, barely lit by a far off sodium streetlight, in partial visibility.  The song is in the genre of music that prioritizes aesthetic distance, the melody itself is mostly minor key but buries its emotion, the lyrics unclear but what does come through elucidating some suppressed longing for an out-of-reach someone.  My friend also looking at the river and smoking in silence.  Both of us drawn to this narrative of suppression. 

Naturally I never replied to any of his emails.  Me, laughing as I watch him throw a chair through the glass door of an abandoned culinary college building in a remote area.  The shattering sound extraordinarily loud as we run away wheezing in power.  Conceiving this moment as an instance of “feeling free.” 

Returned, Dr. Anne asked me if I’d like to watch TV during the procedure. A ‘yes’ drooped out, just on the wrong side of half-aware.  My friends, dancing in true excess, using every area possible. Every light is on at the enormous, completely empty dive bar.  We are abusing the juke box, eventually rolling all over the floor as the middle-aged bartender looks on in both entertainment and embarrassment.  The perceived freedom in exploding, the freedom of being incredibly annoying. Haha that was fun, I breathed into myself — my eyes rolled to the TV.  A daytime talk show, three hosts, a brunette guest in her 40s and hawking a cookbook aimed at feeding a family health food on some interpretation of budget.  My view of this public service periodically impacted by the partial head of Dr. Anne, gliding above my face and uncaring of my interest level in the bone-strengthening benefits of mizuna.  But with each intrusion I caught another detail of her features. Neck the size of a tetherball pole. Eyes the dark brown of rotting wood found in the fence of a large Nebraskan cow pasture.  Inherently non-emotive.  Nostrils the size of a baroque era keyhole and with the same vaulted elegance.  Hands the texture of seitan fri—“close your eyes,” Dr. Anne instructed, and I did.  

Now just the aural sensation of tools hitting metal trays in staccato clacks, subtle breaths of concentration and impenetrable surgeon shorthand communicated to the nurse.  ‘Examine your lovers,’my sensual side interjected, which I obeyed.  Of course there were no lovers before the event.  But after, maybe his name was Ryan, I met him on the street at the end of a concert, we communed in a park bush at 2AM and once more in the front seat of his sister’s car in a semi-populated parking lot after another concert, then never again.  He lived in some sort of halfway house, I later discovered and did not investigate or prod as he drove me home in his sister’s car, in which I had just unsuccessfully orgasmed.  He was cute and somewhat annoyingly naive, I felt little pleasure during the encounter with him and grudged my brain for bringing it up to me.  Central air suddenly announced its presence, introducing a consistent ambient tone and further tranquilizing me in its unenthusiastic serenade.  But still the spirited drippings of talk show audio whipped through. The TV guest had initiated a new talking point: her trauma, and how it was partially soothed through relatively inexpensive and healthier food options.  My soul is dark with stormy riot/directly traced over to diet, I recited in my head, at her.  

I could not make out exactly the plot points of her suffering. Being already well-acquainted, I assumed mine were more interesting. Nikola, who had a boyfriend, and who was a person I considered particularly attractive. We passed each other in the street once before actually meeting and noticed, so the long arc felt pumped in full with anticipatory stakes.  After a bump in at a “queer night” held at the straight bar, he invited me to a party where we made out in the bathroom for a crisp two minutes.  And later again in the alley behind the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, since he didn’t think it would be okay for me to “come in,” and then never again.  There was an interesting pinching sensation above my right eye.  Dr. Anne breathed. I held in a sigh with maximum effort possible, in fact with the acute attention traditionally reserved for the gatekeeping of gas.  In turn, the sigh appeared to disperse throughout the rest of my body. I recognized that I’d already taken on the narrative cliche of the lonely old person who looks back on the debris of their life with wistfulness, weighing joys and regrets.  Obviously this was a victory and firmly in step with my trajectory.  Craig, who had a lot of fear and would occasionally grab my arm in unpredictable moments, digging his fingernails into my skin as aid while the nervous ruptures sprayed through his body.  We watched a pushy French movie which broke out into kissing in a room outrageously lit by moonlight, ice blue klieg suggesting a legible night landscape in a supposedly pitch black woods.  The whole thing lasted three weeks. All these attempts at communing which ejected from success with the agile, sensible mach of a skedaddlin jerboa.

And the first: in a cab, he touched my dick. (Later, I thought about this for a long time.  The first dose of warmth in that area that was sprung from the reach of another. It was executed well enough).  When we got to the hotel room, both tanked, he immediately fell asleep on the bed.  I began to caress him, to which he didn’t respond. I told him to leave the room if he didn’t want to touch me.  My brattiness, slick with gin, pummeled through and registered with him dispassionately, like wood, flung by tornadic wind through a car windshield, fills the frame of a dash cam.  He told me to fuck off, rolling over and leaving the room for his own down the hall.  I lay, my back on the bed, fully clothed and slipping through extra drunken dimensions. I wouldn’t puke, but could barely move. My eyes were closed and out of my control.

“Yeah my husband has been rockin’ a bit of a dad bod recently, not gonna lie!” the daytime talk show guest went there.  The audience chuckled in unabashed delight. One of the hosts — the actual daughter of a very well-known career politician who had exerted a vast influence on the party line and the country’s perspective on international defense over the past thirty years and who also undoubtedly served as the spiral in the center of many emerging conspiracy theorists’ works-in-progress — used the sentence starter “awww” and then continued, “but of course the best part of a dad bod is watching him interact with his children.”  The audience applauded. I felt relief, I was exactly where I was meant to be. 

[behindheterochromiaeyes]

at first: sorry for my bad english, i am from austria (not where the kangaroos are)

i am 28. this is my first apartment ever. and i f*cking love it! i never thought i would come that far in my life but here i am! (my ex therapist neither lol) i don't know why but i never gave up even tho if i wanted to. #mentalhealthawareness i am still here.

also this is the home of my 29 plants & my 7 y/o cat named "Gnar" 🫶🏻

what do you think about my room? please let me know your thoughts! it would make me happy 🥺

#about life #mental disorder #apartment #deep thinking #wohnung #plantblr #plant parent #plantlife #house plant #my room life #my roommate is a cat #my thoughts #my stuff #my mind #lifelessons #who can relate #mentally tired #i can do it myself #i cant stop thinking about it #happy home paradise #trans and proud #so proud #home & lifestyle #welcome home #homedecor #decor aesthetic #aesthethic #home decor #room decor #interior decorating