evasearchin

The Plan.

evasearchin — Mon, 25 May 2026 13:29:16 GMT

People ask me what my plan is now. I mean I have to do something.
My plan is for my agnostic self to have faith in god and do nothing.
Surprisingly it's not gone too badly.
Sometimes the only thing left to do is wait.

The Post-Mortem

evasearchin — Sun, 03 May 2026 23:41:25 GMT

All the amfexa is spent on the post-mortem. Repeatedly. No productive work is done. I loop the loop, round and round, and waste limited resources on pointless questions. What a mess you have made. Noone left unscathed.

Red & The Real Wolf

evasearchin — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 23:48:45 GMT

David the woodcutter, should leave Red to the mercy of the wolf. Because ultimately the harm he does lasts much longer than anything the wolf could inflict on Red. Do we see it in this image. How badly this will go. The tragedy is it never has to. It can end at that picture.

It's most unfortunate that Red, isn't the Red, Roald Dahl describes. Not yet. But one day we hope she will be.

LJ meta crisis lol

evasearchin — Wed, 26 Feb 2025 02:03:18 GMT

It's odd I find myself here,
So many years later,
Writing poetry on linear regression,
Using ChatGPT to crack the mysteries of life and my psyche.
And perhaps all the answers are here.
In the tortured twenty years of journals from the tortured twenties.

Anyhow it is a mystery.
I do wonder where did those LJ authors go who's fanfic I spent hours devouring.
Where did those communities go where we tried to salve the hurt of our loneliness.
For I have concluded h/c, non con, dub con, is your wounded insecure attachment...

I wonder where those mutual friends went. Because they could be dead. Things went as they wanted or did they turn over a page and find sunshine and happiness.

Where is the modern LJ? Is it in the bastion of tiktok comments? Is it Reddit. Ah it must be Reddit. Whoever knows.

loving you, wish I didn't...

evasearchin — Thu, 25 Nov 2021 03:24:34 GMT

Loving the wrong person again.
Because you just happen to let yourself go again,
Another dead end outcome,
Another avenue for heartbreak and pain,
Quit whilst your ahead,
Is the best plan yet,
Because this loving isn't real,
Or feasible,
Or a good deal,
Or even appropriate,
This loving isn't right,
Someone else's life,
Let it go,
Leave it be,
Let it be,
What it's meant to be,
Stop pushing, stop shoving,
Stop fighting, stop pining,
Enjoy it for what it is,
Nothing more,
Nothing less,
Not possible to change,
All the outcomes in this game,
That providence decides to play,
Best not to cry over nothing,
And appreciate the something,
Ignore the feeling
Of wanting, missing and needing,
Don't make it something more,
That has too much of a cost,
With too much potentially lost,
Too many lives destroyed,
For a short term outcome,
To fill an irrelevent void.

And yet alas little girl,
Who do you think you are,
In this grown up world?
What power do you have
To influence anyone at all,
No matter what you feel,
No matter what the wants,
No matter the secret desires,
The desperate mind evokes...
Your dreaming anyway,
So sigh in relief
And let it go.

lonely journeys, always

evasearchin — Thu, 05 Aug 2021 08:05:00 GMT

this is not how one is indifferent.

waiting to hear from someone to tell them you don't need them, is needing them.

you write them away slowly, weaning yourself off them gently, or maybe the answer is cold turkey, been there, done that, too difficult.

the only way to it is through it, so it's commonly said. and so we struggle through marshes and bramble, plough through sand and swim through deadly seas, looking for permission to drown. the world doesn't give you that permission but Moses doesn't turn up to part the waves either, the only survival is apathy, inertia, being frozen as you are. not even frustration or boredom shifting you along.

self fulfilling prophecies

evasearchin — Tue, 27 Apr 2021 01:32:00 GMT

That's basically how it works right. Put someone through enough of an emotional rollercoaster for them to finally give up on you, abandon you and take enough steps back for their own sanity...

And you know you've done this because your own feelings of dependence and need shared the shit out of you. And because you never were in control of this relationship.

Inevitable really. I always said some of us were irredeemable.

What I want is not what I needed. But couldn't you see me edging, begrudgingly, slowly to what you were saying? But invariably you ran out of patience, as I knew anyone who I have ever been in an authentic exchange with has done.

I prove my own points. Self fulfilling prophecies to cry about in one's own time.

Ah well, disappointment, and heartbreak, we meet again, but we are well aquainted, and if I've been through worse, this is a piece of cake right.

older but not wiser

evasearchin — Sun, 07 May 2017 00:22:06 GMT

As I get older

I don't get wiser

The colour grey

fragments again and again

in to a billion shades

as I keep trying to hold on

to the anchor that is

black and white.

maladjusted adulthood

evasearchin — Sun, 07 May 2017 00:19:58 GMT

What I don't understand is how well-adjusted everyone seems to be to the mundane routine that is their life. They are so reconciled with average. How have they all managed to remain driven and purposeful and attain some target or goal in their working life. At thirty, why am I starting over again, without commitment to something else, anything else, who even knows what. Why am I so opposed to growing up, donning a suit and turning up to work at 9am going yes sir, no sir, can I do anymore sir, can I grovel at your feet and sell my soul for an extra 10k a year sir. That would be the sensible thing to do, you know. I may even become suitable for a mortgage. And yet every year I grow older, I grow weary of the idea of working hard to make others ridiculously more money then I will be paid. I should be in some hands off management role putting my feet up on a desk by now. Other thirty year olds seem to be. All I want to do, is tell the world to fuck it, keep my hair dyed purple and go on a world trip. But the trouble with being 30, is that your knees can't take coach trips anymore and your too old and to used to comfort, to live in hitchhiking backpacking gap-year conditions. Ideally by this time, you'd be in that management job, being paid enough to travel in luxury, dipping your toes in to filtered cultural activities, that make you just the right amount of carefully measured uncomfortable. It's either that or fully embrace the life of the "hippie", embrace arts or writing rubbish and then spend a decade promoting yourself on fb, twitter and instagram till one day your pretentious shite is "discovered" and hopefully makes you a million.

ravings of an inept computing student

evasearchin — Sun, 29 Mar 2015 23:04:09 GMT

q0
push(<html> <(no-)body(loves me)> <p> <ravings>)
q1

import wtflanguageisthis.crazytalk.*

public class Dreams extends Life implements dysfunctionalPerson, OOPSucks
{
public static void Dreams(sleep deprivation, clinical depression) throws RandomRubbish Exception
{
System.out.println ("At some point I realise that I may not be human. I can not feel anymore. I should. There should be grief, there should be pain, there should be sorrow for all the loss that I am going through, have gone through, will go through and yet there is nothing. I wonder if the sharp edge of a knife on my bare skin will cause pain. Will the cuts bleed? Would it prove that I am human? Would I believe the evidence or would the experiment require the exposure of bones buried deep under flesh. Would bone be conclusive evidence anyway? Who knows what simulation this mind is plugged in to?

My dreams consist of phrases related to automata. As I learn the language of computers, fragments of syntax weave through my unconscious. I define myself in states; awake, asleep, with the transitional relation being a count of numb days. My life consists of functional and non-functional requirements, my downtime is not visible to the spectators. This system is failing internally and yet the interface remains glossy. Life gives no choices; my states are finite and I wish things were non-deterministic but the final accepting state will be catastrophic system failure. It is only a matter of time. It always has been.

It is illogical, the union of overwhelming work and a lack of time should result in zero procrastination and yet I type this immutable String?!");
return;

}}

pop(</ravings> <p> </(no-)body(cares)> </html>)
q(n ∈ N)

Class not compiled.
'logic' expected; found human inconsistencies.

oscar, delta, kilo.

evasearchin — Sun, 01 Mar 2015 18:50:33 GMT

I've been meaning to post for a week. Actually exactly a week and one day. 21st Feb to be precise.

I gave my faithful, reliable, old, beat up, first car in to be "scrapped" for a shiny new obnoxious one. It's MOT was due and every year it was becoming more and more of a mission trying to get it to pass and this year the patch job on the exhaust was really not going to get it through. And as it is with these things; the cost of the repair verses the cost of the car weighed up and if every mechanic you encounter tries to sell you a new car, you know that maybe, just maybe, after eight years together it's time.

I found out today that the dealers who sold me my new car have put the old car up for sale which just winds me up. If I had wanted it sold on; I'd have done it myself. For a measly £100 to £200 pounds I'd have played the part of pimp and taken the pictures to put on Autotrader. But I didn't. I gave the car in to be scrapped. If I could no longer have it, no-one could. The height of creepy possessiveness, but it was MINE. Steering wheel (worn, never had power steering) to kerbed tyres, it was all mine. If I could have, I'd have taken it to the scrap dealers myself and obtained and framed its "certificate of destruction" because it was mine to love in life and mine to love in death. And after I'd stopped "abusing" it, I'd have at least wanted it to have a dignified end. No one could love it like I loved it. No one should. And yet that is greedy and spiteful, perhaps I should be happy that the car may get a new lease of life, some more years with another loving owner, if I can get past the fact that it is no longer mine.

It's traumatic. But I'm sure amusing to most. Standing on the sidewalk crying my heart out, unable to say goodbye to this beat up car, fully resenting the new one you've purchased which is pulled alongside it. It's incomprehensible that this car doesn't belong to me anymore. It's not the one I'm taking home. It's not the one I'm supposed to have the second keys for. That it is illegal for me to drive off with it now. "They took my car," I wailed to my bemused poor brother, "They're taking my car." The fucking irony is that I'm letting them.

We're such a throwaway generation. Seeking to find the new and the shiny. My car was old but it never ever let me down. It was simple but it always made me happy. It was small but it was the car that took me and my friends everywhere. It protected me from my own stupidity, my terrible driving. It helped me move house. It took me all over the UK. It was my roof when I never felt I had one. It was my space. And I let it go. And now it seems it wasn't because it was close to death either.

ETA: I told my friend I was dealing with a death this week not a bloody divorce. I never realised it was a relationship. But it was. I knew that car intimately. Noone else could drive it like I could either. Grown men would get in and struggle with the lack of power steering. And the new one.. I don't know it. Yes it's a car like any car but I don't know it. We've been matched together via checkboxes, a potential love story, very much an arranged marriage.

long term truths

evasearchin — Sun, 08 Feb 2015 21:13:25 GMT

I particularly like the line on the AI, "Compassion" being the defining human factor. It surprises me that I feel it's still a good marker of AI being sentient. (This thought comes from watching Ex-Machina recently).

The one that always sticks with me and started the vid search is, "The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play."
Not that I am arguing that my mind is particularly complex but this drudgery is getting to me and I want to play.

I think I've written on here about how I started a Computer Science course recently. It's been tough going. Initially I thought Maths was a language I didn't have. Numbers were the words of my cohort, to be manipulated on a casual whim to achieve sentences of meaning. I now realise programming is another language, another tool I don't have. The people around me manipulate lines of codes and numbers with the same proficiency and fluency that I manipulate my words with and I know that learning my words took me a lifetime, a lifetime of needing to express. And this frustrates, saddens, worries and annoys me. If I do not have the tools how will I achieve anything.

L(me) =! maths or programming :(

bored and frustrated

evasearchin — Sun, 08 Feb 2015 20:56:41 GMT

On discovering FreezeSMS and DOSBox no longer seem to work on my laptop and I don't even remember how I set them up.
On discovering that the only applications that play dominance on my laptop are programming ones for university because I must and the remote desktop ones that allow for work.
On discovering that I have no soul anymore;

"I am or rather I was before being grown up took all the damned things away; a retro gamer; a tinkerer; someone who took the time to reach the end goal because it mattered and as a result I learnt something along the way.
And now I couldn't care less. I do not strive. Either for pleasure or for worldly gain. I do not care. Desire has fallen to the bottom of an ether. Darkness, blackness and nothingness defines my actions."

I am different. For better or for worse. I am different.
I no longer dwell in fandoms, I have none, An indicator perhaps that I am "grown up" and as such I have no time. No time to set up DOSBox as much as the desire to play childhood games comes over me. No time. This action does not contribute to bill-paying. Or university deadlines and therefore this action is disregarded. And it does make me wonder how much I sacrifice or deem too unimportant to carry out, leaving only those tasks that are functional or provide instant gratification. Does this make it life? Taking away the little pleasures and becoming functional... It's not human, it's robotic. The irony is that robots do not feel despair.

Tea Thoughts; Twinings Defence

evasearchin — Wed, 04 Feb 2015 23:14:49 GMT

Darn, I did these a long time ago. And to be fair I've not had "strange" tea for a while... Maybe a year.

I liked this tea. Not too fruity. Sort of earthy. I let it infuse for the recommended 2-3 min and it was fairly rich in flavour which is good; the teabag was a year old! But individually wrapped. Had a coffee sort of feel, I had it after a peice of chocolate which normally goes before coffee and found this filled in nicely.

I suppose earthy is the right word... Its called "Defence" but an old scribbled note in my handwriting tells me this is actually, blackcurrent, echinecea root and vitamin c. Not sure where the vitamin c is from..

Defence was apt because I feel miserably cold and miserably ill. If I ignore the flu-like symptoms I wonder if it will just vanish tomorrow morning.

I've now brewed chamomile tea (its whatever I find at this point); Omg I remember this god awful dish rag smell and my previous criteria for tea's I would rebuy;

1) No damp dishrag smell (Chamomile that rules you out).

2) No sharp fruity tastes
(There is actually lemsip for torturing myself).

3) And not too minty (Mint belongs in one place and one place only.. Toothpaste. (Unless its real mint leaves crushed inside a morrocon tea- I find I'm partial to that)).

Anyway I stopped drinking herbal teas after I met a lady who said her sinus trouble stopped shortly after she stopped taking herbal teas.. And I found out green tea was caffeinated so that didn't work as an evening drink anyway. But now in this weather and with my dripping nose I'm willing to retry the teas.

its been a long long time....

evasearchin — Sat, 17 Jan 2015 14:44:35 GMT

(title sang in musical voice; I'm not even sure what song that is.)

I clicked on here now that I've had a chance and I'm surprised to see my last entry was mid-December and on JK Rowlings detective book. Now that I have finished it... well I'm really not sure why but the ending disappointed me :(

I can't even work out why.

Oh well.

It was still a good read. Enjoying the journey rather then the destination.

on books, movies and circles.

evasearchin — Wed, 17 Dec 2014 13:08:27 GMT

I watched the final Hobbit this weekend...

"He is known as Strider..." Woohoo...

Life is full of so many circles. The teen-aged me did not appreciate LOTR the first time I saw it. What is this movie of many hours I wondered sitting with a row of friends who also wondered the same thing.

Something's never change though, In all the confusion of that movie (and it is confusing if your not paying attention) I declared that "Strider needed a good wash and I'd be happy to give it to him!" and that statement raised eyebrows amongst my conservative friends, in the same way everything I have ever said, has raised eyebrows everywhere I've ever said it!

Oh well. Full circle. LOTR movies are over. Harry Potter movies are over....
End of many eras.

(A note on JK Rowlings Cuckoos Calling... It's a good book. I know, she's a famous author; I'm stating the obvious, but no it really is a rich satisfying read, liked hot baked potato, comfort reading. Lots of adjectives and portraits of people. Wonderfully rich and detailed. I felt The Casual Vacancy was a bit of a shock, not an amazing bit of work and written to deliver a message of Socialist values (that I do totally agree with) but this crime book is lovely.

I always did wonder if I loved Harry Potter because it was the best bit of incremental escapism that came my way, it was a book I'd hooked on to in my early teenage years and it provided an institution, a group, a dream for the many years after that (I am still part of many Harry Potter Societies!). Could I objectively say that it was a good book? Now after reading the Cuckoos Calling (or being halfway through actually), I have to say she is indeed a damn good author and I'm glad she's still writing, adult books for the adult me who grew up escaping in to the world she created for me as a child, still creating world's for me as an adult.)

change

evasearchin — Wed, 17 Dec 2014 12:53:17 GMT

You,
with your self-righteous indignation,
Hatred and judgement.
You,
who cannot believe
your wrong.
You,
older and believing that your wiser,
Your dying
Were all dying.
But you will hopefully die first
By virtue of your age.
So I can live in a world without you all.
Without your judgements
And your lies.
Your inability to compromise.
I live on in the hope
That all you bigots
Narrow minded fools
Will die first
Leaving behind a world
With us.
A revolution
A breath of fresh air.
New ideas
And new cares.
It will happen.
Sooner rather then later.
You'll all die
And the values you hold
The petty things you hold so dear;
Will also die with you.
Leaving behind a world
With space for more fools.

Sunday Emptiness!

evasearchin — Wed, 17 Dec 2014 12:51:00 GMT

I once wrote about Sunday as a positive...
Maybe that was just Sunday morning.

Because Sunday evenings is a different story...

I hate Sundays
Sunday evenings to be more precise.
It is the end of all things
All life.
As the shops close
And the streets empty.
And even if you have no plans to be out
The contemplation of
No one out there
Dampens your soul.
And you feel like
Your all alone.
And it is some kind of end
For it all.

new things...

evasearchin — Tue, 23 Sep 2014 23:12:48 GMT

a new LJ app update...
testing time...

also I may be "home"...
a c64 screen demanding a line of code...
I never tried then;
but today was day one of learning Java;
after twenty years of drifting;
this maybe where I belong...

formal processes...

evasearchin — Fri, 15 Aug 2014 07:19:55 GMT

"clearing" is a bitch.

flirting with the memories...

evasearchin — Sat, 26 Jul 2014 19:51:36 GMT

Do you delve in to that level of fucked up?
When its in the past.
A past buried and left behind.
A past that seems to haunt no one else's mind?
A past the others can no longer remember.

Me in a room with memories.
Yes I flirt with you,
my memories.
I pick at the scars,
open up old wounds,
find the reading material,
that hurts the most.
And I consider the level of fucked up,
therapy wants me to pursue.

to relive trauma in its detail,
to live through all those moments again,
to make the connections,
and see the patterns,
when I'd so gladly ignore it all.

And yet according to my previous therapist,
there is a shortage in the years I'm going to live.
Know thyself, (quickly)
so I can heal and move on with all of this.
yet it doesn't seem worth the pain.
I wonder what there is to gain.
My life is what it is,
not because of my own internal ignorance,
it seems to be everything on the outside...
and maybe there's the ignorance.

life is...

evasearchin — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 13:34:59 GMT

A series of lies on headed paper...

(If you want anything).

when is one day?

evasearchin — Fri, 04 Jul 2014 17:26:23 GMT

One day there will be a beach.
One day there'll be sun and sand that I can walk on;
Blissfully;
Worry free;
One day I won't have to worry about the money;
One day..
And I keep saying one day;
And when's that one day?
So many years
So many hopes
So many dreams;
One day.
Someday.
Oft repeated.
In prayer. In human hope.
And you look back
With a shock of reality.
At the years gone by dreaming.
The years gone by believing
And you wonder why the one day hasn't arrived?
And you wonder if its time to make peace and accept that one day is a lie.
There is no one day.
There is only today.
This reality.
That one day will never be.
Men have rotted and wasted away believing in one day.
And one day; that some day;
Never comes.

PS; Not sure why this video is called Shatner Shirtless. Just wanted the line where he goes "No beach to walk on..."

old wallpaper

evasearchin — Tue, 17 Jun 2014 00:33:33 GMT

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

on "porting" a number...

evasearchin — Wed, 11 Jun 2014 09:40:36 GMT

first to go was the 3G

that I noticed immediately.

a couple of hours of no Internet

as I started to delete the last remnants

of the apps which made this MY iPhone.

some hours of temperamental phone reception,

oddly enough the reception bars went down slowly,

five, four, three, two and even one,

almost as if it were struggling to still stay alive.

loyal, reliable, until the very end.

and then gasping and gaping,

I observed the very last breath,

of the dying sim card

that came with my iPhone 3GS,

before it displayed

it's final "no service"...

I flick to my notes;

of course they're no longer there,

transferred elsewhere,

empty,

calendar, contacts, messages,

empty, empty, empty,

this is how i reward loyalty,

battered and bruised,

a phone that i could have continued to use..

with a sad nostalgic smile I delete

one of the only things remaining,

the recent calls list.

it no longer belongs on this phone...