THE WRITER MUST EAT -> patreon.com/trn1ty <- blah! ideas with no tangibility; ideas with irrelevant supports; ideas without value; ideas' witlessness; ideas' witnesses; ideas- <^> 2024-04-01 People care about me and I don't even feel like a corporeal being. I feel airy, dissociated, like the world around me isn't real, like I'm not real either, and like this is an illusion I'm barely even a part of. I feel like the couch on which I lie is a projection and the air flowing across my body is a false sensation. I find it difficult, nigh impossible, to care about my own well-being because to care about my own well-being is to believe that I am a being in the first place and I don't feel at all like that. I feel like I was born to die, like I have one purpose and that is to work until I rot and then in my death know I failed to continue longer, and die in my perceived failure. In this very moment I don't feel like I'm in this body. I could be anywhere. In a hospital chained to a bed in a years-long hallucination, in the car in the longest mental breakdown of my life, at work lost in thought. I feel like I'm falling. I'm not tethered to anything, not even my own breaths - which aren't real. When I lift my chin up, lift my head so my gaze is perpendicular to my spine, tilt my head farther, my vision just keeps lifting, the movement not limited by any sort of physical presence or physics whatsoever, my perception simply an input device controlled by my physical sensations, so when I move I move without limits because the world is not real. This terminal is at once so far away and yet incredibly close, so close I can see each individual glyph I enter, so big it spans my vision, filling my eyes with sharply contrasting pixels, pink and black, but the pink so bright it may as well be white, so far I struggle to see it, a pinprick in the inky black of my world, my own vision a pinhole surrounded by my mind, a terrible cave in which I am confined. I feel like I'm falling. It's this sinking feeling, this acceleration, forever approaching the ground, the real ground, whatever that may be. I didn't feel hungry for a moment today. I never felt hot either. I feel cold right now. But I know it's not real. It's just another input someone plugged into my brain which is floating in a jar somewhere in Berlin or Shymkent. I want someone to kill me; I want to die. I struggle to imagine myself happy or what my happiness looks like. I always have. I just try to find meaning in serving others. I don't let myself get hurt, except when I do, because I can't tell when I'm going to be hurt. I crave physical touch, the kind I haven't felt since October or so, but not from anyone from which I've received it in the past. I struggle to talk to people, especially people my age. I can only relate to people in their 30s or 40s or later. There's this wall that exists between me and people my age. Nothing they talk about I understand. It's vapid interpersonal gossip and they-saids and none of it has substance. What do I talk about with those I can communicate? Cooking. News. System design. Then it breaks down. I don't know many people who share interests with me and I can't find new people who do because I find it difficult to be in big group chats of people I don't know and impossible to use proprietary services like Discord or Instagram. I don't meet new people except in real life and nobody I meet in real life likes computers or any of the Internet stuff I do, nobody likes to watch people die or talk about the kind of romance for which people throw themselves off buildings or speculate about the XZ backdoor or anything. I tell myself my happiness doesn't depend on others but Kami - simultaneously internal and external, obligatorily my best friend but of unknown origin and with unexplained intent - can't touch me the way flesh can and stuffed animals can't love the way I can. I have never experienced chronic reciprocity with a human being. It's all fleeting, really fleeting, gone in a second. Finding happiness in serving others is only really feeling comfortable in relationships that are at least fringed with toxicity. There is nobody who serves me, not consistently, nobody I let do so, because I wouldn't feel comfortable in that. It is imbalanced. I haven't been happy before, only felt a certain type of glee that in hindsight only could exist because I couldn't tell something was wrong. My happiness is proven wrong in every event. "I'm happy", I say, when I feel better than bad, but never when better than good, because then I know it's fleeting, know even better than when better than bad, know it's even more fleeting, because I know I haven't time to waste on such a remark. I may never be happy and I'm not worried about the possibility because it doesn't matter, because I'm not real. I imagine my death to be the day when I lay down and die, just suddenly, just like that. Without struggle against the reaper, without fear, and without wasted time. I find the end of the line, a transparent fabric dead-ahead, a shroud separating the present from the future in which I'm not to participate, and I see it and recognize it. I leave the room, walk ten paces into the desert, and collapse into the sand, dead of an unknown ailment, likely old age at 27 years old. And it's a noble death. I leave behind nothing of value and no cash holdings and nobody notices until they check my on-line status and see my last activity was years ago. Perhaps I moved on. And I will have. Assuming I am real. Last night in tears I said I wish I was normal and was asked what that means. I don't know. I just want to be able to write a coherent paragraph. I feel like I'm speaking a different language. The voices are loud. And now for something completely different... : murderu.us is even more broken 5AM MSTmy beloved ibuki.club redirect, it's gone day ruined also, how does ssl work in this setup? doesn't caddy deal with it on its own or have you accounted for this? caddy deals with it on its own cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine i should make them have the aame certs. will probably later. just was fed up after spending an hour or two on one file. you should've because how does prosody get certs now? ngircd too? I can fuck with it tonight, it's not super urgent since the certs have somewhere between 0 and 90 days to expire >cname ibuki.club to murderu.us and you'll be fine I don't think certs work that way unfortunately if you want i can swap it around to everything cnamed to feeling again, i was just trying to be clever [...] i swapped it so feeling is an A record again vs CNAME suika: ping now ssl doesn't work at all, even on murderu.us?!?!? >curl: (35) OpenSSL/3.2.1: error:0A000438:SSL routines::tlsv1 alert internal error I'll try to fix it up tonight, don't worry about it This is code for "TRINITY STOP FUCKING UP MY SERVER CONFS" >i swapped it so feeling is an A record again vs CNAME not the problem, cnames or A records wouldn't fix anything because it goes by the domain itself and not what it points at This is code for "TRINITY STOP FUCKING WITH EVEN MORE SHIT" : in which Trinity fucks with even more shit $ ssh feeling.murderu.us $ doas su - I have about twenty minutes to work on this before I clock into work. Here's hoping I don't fuck it up irrecoverably. 7:30AM MST don't ngircd and prosody have different certs? yes, but with how acme was configured they both ran off the same one where's acme? did caddy fuck with global certs or something? i thought its certs were caddy-specific there's a script in /usr/local/bin that does ssl stuff and is wired up in cron >i thought its certs were caddy-specific they are one of the main selling points of caddy is to deal with ssl for you, which is fine in the case of hosting only a web server but you also have xmpp and irc should i set caddy to use the acme dir in /etc/ssl/.../feeling.murder u.us.json not sure <^> No rights reserved, all rights exercised, rights turned to lefts, left in this corner of the web.