Beach Visit

The pier, sketch in the car, and the burger meal with garlic mayo

Self portrait in the sand.

Dealing with an over-caffeinated cup within a yellow Addius jumper. Following a message online with wanting to practice Impromptu.

It was a quick 2-hour visit, a world with such a visit that was filled the breath from the work schedule of comicing that's made with a family.  It's all that essentialism towards a material that made me want to leave it. Came with a empty candy floss bag and a reason why I'm not a regular at restaurants.

Burger was worth it though, no tummy bugs other than that hurl from not having limits within my coffee limit, It's a choir though. Why haven't I got to the time with playing with amusements? Is it my lack of response and measured attempts to fulfil an aspiration to something?

It's an attempt, I tell my Brother about Bluesky, he hasn't even heard of it, the internet moves so fast that even my family. He don't know about the microblogging and the attention spans there, it's a world that's going faster beyond my control. The cheesy attempt of determinism.

Yet this is the pace that I choose right now, and I own.

( I bet he does not know of the rule 34us industry complex within adult entertainment, oh well, domain knowledge's will never match up completely with our public languages.)

I can't entertain elitism about being online so much.

@motfal.bsky.social

Have scrumbly! Stream commission.

How am I responsible for a micro-entertainment persona.

~Couch Gregor

-------- new family girlfriend

15 portrait.


My brother has a Congo line of romantic relationships. This girlfriend admits her age and chuckles for a moment, inebriated as they move towards with chuckles with my own single solitude with a computer.

This one is friendly, with a secret handshake and a promise to goto KFC. On Saturday, It did not follow through as a washed-up gesture. I arranged for it to be ordered. Had to focus on my craft'n all.

The only time I liked the time where it was Monday morning, with my family getting the sizzler stacker in a compressed moment. That was serviceable and quick, the convenience taken for granted.

Now a supermarket air fryer chicken along with a heated wrap could do the trick, for another day of hack work making rounds to an empty reaches of what may be called 'an audience'.

What works with love, as I can hope this diet. Through metaphor and reality, is sensible now.

Hermit editorial

Being a novelist is what I do. Against the status quo, wow, what a challenge.

I was the anti-social kid for being obsessed, compelled with specifications of drawing. It's all not serviceable to the meaning of the Internet, only wanting status and affiliation. What a world of wild-west randomness that I cannot determine.

This is the prices and input/output with social interaction being coded and calculated amongst and stream of ones and zeros, towards a distribution tract where others squabble to.

Being on the moon can help, yet the payment itself is legible. Always a positive'n negative with such a means to express oneself journalistically like this.

Editorial stuff like this ain't necessarily contradictory. It's happening once the noise of the fictional entertainment/amusement dries up. Solitude allows the irrationality and conflicts to be played out, safely.

All my characters are split from my ideological conflict so that it can leave into an ending, between the primordial chaos and the orderly fixed catagorys.

( Also, Streamlining my rants, politics, and postmodernism into Editorial )

Another fanart. Citizen as product.

HpComic, With the lack of demand I was picked with the infinity of e-begging, had to approach him with extreme compassion.

 That's it, everybody is fishing for attention to covert into money, and it's the growing undercurrents where it's all socio-political again.

Will always hold whatever way to reach for attention under suspicion.

Sure enough from thr mos cynical to the most optimistically believable, shall another post pass.

Gotta understand how important credability is.

Clarification of Intention : Non-Fiction

"Seven min which could be five. Warm fluffy sweats from Christmas, and worn-out sneakers, has its function still. I stand like a wobbly chess piece." 

That was the moment where I had known, that these attempts of writing that I'm trying to think clearly, even if it's for myself.

Even if it's all newspeak and conspiracy, I will only believe a few that are backed.

Like how social media is a training ground for popular publishers. At least the literary publishers are honest about delivering an audience.

Best be aware that we are a resource for these types.

Frustrations of a other place: Twitch

What came to me with that couch?

Did I see an embarrassment? Failed Irony? Insight that are my creativity ain't going to be rewarded by the financial goals of ad driven sites?

All rhetorical questions. Yearning for imposter syndrome, within fictional entertainment.

There could be a billion reasons for a single view on my channel, and they could be a much more. Ain't my job to probe why. Pretentious meeting simulator within network television. That's mass media. There goes more attention to a sloppy crypto ad.

Getting off twitch has been a boon, oversharing is exhausting.

My feelings with the pokemon base

Skintilla, One of the Twitcher streamers who are couched. Now for my feelings. Oil pastel paintings bring me back.

I have been the most jaded kid, and I have been the most enthusiastic kid. Fandom and hated does that to ya, let me tell ya. Ambivalent-dom? Nah, My relations are alright now.

What am I to do with the most commercial property, with the popularity of the publisher leaving high SEO and cease and desist letter within its wake. Nintendo itself not being a friendly business when it comes those who love the franchise. What a love-hate relationship.

Back in the mid 1990s I was chirping “Clefairy” As a young'un, I was making silly games with the Pokémon and role-plays with a teenage, now today it's gone with all the time.

There's no denying of it's impact with the culture, even with its commitments and ideas reflected with the modding of other monster-trainers within the action genre. With its own trace into the card-trading scene which someone in my family does disclose unpacking on a streaming service, what a market.

Right now, a pack for something to be opened, with a surprising act.

Hearing about this overcommercialisation of this merchandise. It's no surprise though.

Matt and Trey have made a tiring satire of how overcommercialization it is, and I can only resonate so much. Since Children's media will always be more commercial than adult stuff. That's simple arthritic. Jaded as I was back being a kid, it's now time that my engagement cannot be serious over such harmless fun. (Got the that clip of a long essay of chinpokemon From those ambulance chasering writers. (WW2 Reference cw, If I could make an essay of those tired writers.)

Since to such with the over-exposure and the familiarity, so the dignity began to dissipate with the poke-hunk community, brushing with many a controversy as the lack of structure as let us be like this.

That's what fandom is, It's not an amorphous blob to nitpick with, only through the little pit could civil conversation of the entertainment product could be had. It's been friendly enough. Hopefully they are critical of inequitable business practices to help melt the scepticism.

This mysticism of what is our fandom will still remain, and it's time we acknowledge the scepticism. Of our, what will be done with our cultural remnants of this big empire will have to be made into something new, without their eyes. They will be pin-up artists making them alternative versions down under, whether that it's prosumerist meta or not. I reserve my contention with the big-publishers, rather than the freelancers.

Expect to see more, and for those making something new. Block out it's noise if it ain't to your taste.- We are the fragments of the SEO and impressions made afresh. Collecting ourselves into new communions.

(Oh, the poke-hunks are better than whatever Nintendo publishes, fight me on that. Poke hunks spin-off? My favourite Graphic novel by Bryan Tybalt was based on Sherlock Homles.)

Peppa Pig Surprise

"I said, surprise me. 

They brought me Peppa Pigs Strawberry. 

Smooth I guessed, curled to the tongue. 

T'was standardised sugar"

I look at this industrialised mush that, in most cases, merely mush in the hands of others. So it was for me, for that day, for another time back from a cruddy year.

Thank you twitch for the paradoxical name

 I'm a mixed man about it.

Made the difference towards a Llama to a Couch.

With irony failed I felt the most tension with imposter syndrome, then I didn't manage, then I broke down and restructured right back up. This was my entertainment persona.121212

My autism, Why I wear it

 Because there are industry lead
ers out there who view my art hours as imperial conquest to plunder.

From this sweary rantaphon 13:50 Bringing back an old classic.

That's what I mean when they describe us as inspiration porn, we are made into objects that are groomed and then discarded like empty rented mules. It's cruelty and its determination from the profits are the point. Topped with a pie of exceptionalism of the status.

Of course, as I critique, there is some naive human who will be taken into work experience that will be pushed through the wringer.

The squashing within it all. A most strange fetishisation, the simplification of the human as resource.

Not a mark of sympathy, yet one of self-preservation.

Internalizing private property

 Naive kid back then.

There were a play I was bad at, stuff that I was obsessed with getting 'selected' stuff that I'd be a star, with words I didn't understand. I failed and chocked.

All part of the process of working in front of a crowd with stage fright.

Understanding personal property and items with a present someone winned within a Christmas present, a present of a toy piano. It came with sounds and noises, my young brain wanted it, and I wailed. There was no intention, then it was given towards me as a gift.

That was the last time, filled with the town with the concept of who had all the blocks.

Non-Powerscaling

Back when with concept artist was thing of entertainment industry activity. Dynasour ( will take these down on request.)

"the average internet user views art as such a linear, non exploratory process which can only “improve” or “regress”, like it’s a little skill meter from their video games. Really a shame

I’d like to blame the language a lot of the “first” art instructors and voices used that internet-age artists came across. Concept artists, guys two or three deviations away from gnomon DVDs that worked on making alien guns for Halo or something"

The concept as been a means of drawing attention, and it's now become an industry complex. Something along the success with all that to matter. With all trying to find to magic wand.

Conceptart.org, that where a time was there. It was publisher bait, and it was like a corporate gym in the flavour of its business. It's a race to the bottom to be selected for an industry gig, which was it's high status.

So to be selected there's something to be jumped though, it sold its courses, and it did not teach much other than to be churned.

Elwell moved on and was only the good teachers there. It's all gone now.

Grandads Retirement Blues

Foggy memories become clear, then back again.

They're talking about a somebody's sexual expression, like it's repulsive, Am I that sort of thing? That, with my own desire to reach into a freaky dimension. Or not, it's a Freudian desire of object philia. It's bizarre that'd 

Thoughts go-

The now passed Granny that went with the motions, then it went home again. There was a machine of entertainment within the back. I can't even serve it well as i happened past my family photos.

All a physical record, left to a network that allows me to be silly online.

Grandad needs tp sleep after the fish and chips he ordered. He's consoled with the presents, as my brother is interested in my gpp work.

It was a terminally
offline day, minimal engagement. Still a stream with a failed graphics card update.

Why do I keep going there? To twitch? Addicting me to gamers. Addicting me to performative affiliation, and to popular IPs I've seen way too much of.

"Everybody dies" Was the thing he tels, and is prepared for.

Theres a call every day, he's doing okay.

Lil Scrappy

Lil Scrappy

The doll that happened during the time within the hospital of my youth, thinking back, it was a little frail thing that could be ripped with the slightest of pulls, I have to treat it with a fair care.

Already it landed itself to a time that lead of a circular brown staircase where I held it. Between wood and old-lady home. Wooden staircases of an antique variety fill the young nostrils as the time of a ancient time is brought.

Kid back then with entertainment is given is taken, a special thing. It's not like I'm learning the hoops to jump through with today. The industry, what we do today. At least there is the art. Then there is the commodified slop.

I know too much, and that Lil'Scrappy knows too much too. From Five years old, it goes on. Those memories now fragments.

They still haunt

I see those artists who create, who have works that will never see the life of day. Who calls to be carried over to the next, to be made into something that is articulated into artifices.

Crazy as it may sound, of the creeping edge of the deaths who I missed, yet they didn't miss, they minds went out quicker, yet the made more and more art to the point. Artists that did not last from the prosumer dystopias, along with the rented-mule work schedules. They transcended.

The made a mark, not a market, at the place a moment without commercial value, or a bit. Exhibiting the mastery of the craft regardless, bringing the story of the craftsman towards the point of what we may call art, with its own restrictions.

Don't ever expect a gravy train for an artist.

Naturalistic Atheism

As I sustain with my remaining capital, Naturalism will be the remaining philosophy, that's what will come to me. It can be contingent towards thesis belief, yet I'm grouping it together.

Reasons are not science, it's philosophy. Yet there all can be a trickster pulling a silly little trick. I cannot be absolute certain that it's all simulated in our brains. With the verification principle of logical positivism and money not serving its purposes either, especially for my money.

All the SEO adult entertainment roulette. I've described the behaviour of people reaching out there, all axiological arguments leading in towards a centre.

I can only see it and know to know be the toy/the product, figuring out what to post next day through the focus of the next thought. It's the romanticism of a destiny that leads me towards atheism. Is that the casui sui away of it all.

Even within a mad rebellion against fate, it's all an attempt for humanity, to define oneself as with our own attempt. With no the attempt to define immortality from it, with a point of view. Then what's the point?

Since I've climbed out of classical thought with the atheist days, it's all settled within secular atheism that's at peace with theism, let those rituals happen with calm and meditation, people need their own rituals. As with mine as the holy choir with my art. We all create the culture we want to live in, so let's make it last.

Certainly with the neoclassical thought going away, I left when I could.

This quiet turn and bend, with each little step.

The fair visit

The fair ain't good, it's alright. Higher prices, I'm doing the visit though as there are scrunchies and a cat charity I donated for them. Scrunchies are life for the next effort.

A will forever mis this artist's contribution, it's local love with the distribution of a gratitude cactus. He taught me well.

Despite my parent's joke of him not being paid much, Still made an impact. Those things that matter though.

i walked under a ladder, now it must become inspiration p**n

This is going to be journal level, not Memoir level.

Two construction workers were having a ball, and I was walking my way back to the gym, and it's another day under the belt as it's made. I'm trying to run out of my gym-bro addiction by turning my two hours into an hour with fewer sets and more of a minimal routine, today was not that day though.

I had to walk under, they were hogging the mid-road as I stepped up the orange wires.

I'm reminded of obnoxious Gary Vee, on a podcast that's been led with a cult-of-personality, with various PR working on his name on the podcast of the Spotify, recommended to me. Well Couchy, I'm out of the nest! Please, no, I'm going to not need any guidance when there's this silly hustle-culture bustle, at least Seth was not that bade with such mundane advice, however commodified it was.

Not paying his workers for overtime, tsk tsk.

Then he's deleted.

Wow, if this moment that I walked under the ladder now I'm responsible to inspire for the sake of inspiration. Inspire! Burn the candle at both ends! Now! Spectacle.

no.

I looked up silly superstitions now I spat on my shoe to disspell the symbolic burden of my shoe, dispelling the superstition.

Am I being too political?

First, It's my blog, I can write what I want.

Second, it's my opinion, one can have it, right? That's non-realist, and I want to write non-fiction. Talking society will always bring up politics.

Everything getting syncretic, even commodified entertainment is becoming to conflicted since drawing lines in the sand is what brings attention, anything for it. For better or worse.

So then, the time when our ways, is the saying by Socrates, that politics is the highest art form true? Well, if the motivation is true, no betrayal and not done right. I'll forewarn and foreshadow any conflict, my position will be revealed and that's the price to pay if it's going to happen. Somebody will be contrarian to my image.

Why am I drawing and doubting lines around a fig-leaf though?

Latern parade againso

 It is damp, reading a burnout book while there will be a parade. They will be a coffee back van, now they will be potatoes.

There wasn't any potatoes. Merely a crumb of a chocolate flapjack, chicken strips from a takeaway. It was still a good run though.

Fwog

What a humble way of things to be reminded of, with the car and the blaring mix board of the radio going on. Vary the amount o bustle within the two hours and the moment in the takeaway, without the potatoes, was enough. Brought my memories back to five.

Most memoirs are merely journals, this is a journal of a happy moment and tradition of a that's bringing culture into a town with the marching band drums that shake my ears.

These multitudes of lights are points of illumination that bring us together. They said thanks for the cheer.