Angela Quinton @aquinton@computerfairi.es

Currently staying in the brownest hotel room in Ontario

Groimes it bliw up

I post about it a lot, but I want to drive home that my hyperfixation on monstrous werewolves isn’t just a fan gushing about a thing she likes. If given the opportunity I would shatter every cell in my body to experience a process and outcome that would terrify most people.

living alone in Yaletown with my fursuit, bad facial hair, and a quarter million dollars in consumer debt

Thinking nervously about who I would have become had I not transitioned (prominent javascript dev / toxic positivity guy who collects designer backpacks and blogs about how all computing should be accomplished on thin clients running Chrome)

Wonder and whimsy are important! The universe is full of mysteries! Every sentience struggles to communicate its thoughts and experiences through imperfect signs and symbols! I don't need need to see a "photo" of Lenin in streetwear!

If you make and post AI-generated content, you're also likely to be someone who:

- describes dreams to a trapped partner
- had a religious experience caused by JPEG compression noise
- opens data files as audio & scans the noise for "music"
- saw Elvis's face in a piece of toast

I’m sick with a virus (not that one) for the first time since January 2020. What a thrill

“You, sir, will never be a woman.”

You, sir, were home by yourself on a Friday night, probably in your bedroom that smells like stale linens and unwashed feet, posting the dumbest dog shit imaginable at strangers, not because you believed the dog shit you posted, but so you could feel like you’d won the hollow camaraderie of other lonely sociopathic dudes in stinky bedrooms.

self-kintsugi

the first night is frantic metal. Mick Gordon.

the second night is EDM with a loping, driving beat. Le Matos or old Underworld.

the third night is natural ambient. Loscil.

tomorrow i will feel a little sad, a little empty. but i know the cycle will come back around again.

it's an embrace. a mutual dance. i am always filled with gratitude that tempers the longing. over the three nights i feel things that are too real to ignore, and this is like an affirmation of the experience.

the third night of the full moon is like the epilogue. it's gentler than the first two. i don't feel electric or frantic or like breaking this human body in a million ways in the hopes that fur will grow out of the cracks like lycanthropic kintsugi. that's the first two nights.

so many people have affirmed me today it is amazing. thank you. 36 more hours of #pinkmoon posting where i alternate between creature comfort dog bed talk, and wishing to unzip a man’s guts with my claws

full. sated. i want to prowl around and look in on my loved ones. friends family. protect. care

crunchy green bones

Full moon coming. I know what's real and what's possible but at times I feel the change brimming in me so vividly it’s beyond words. Surrendering to the relentless, beautiful, monstrous process

14-year-old me would have seen this comic in the Province paper, and the second panel would have been clipped and stashed in my folder of Benign Things that Give Me Indefinable Autistic Non-Human Yearning (in this case a monstrous arm making a casual, human-like gesture).

the prog and the cbd hit at the same time, turning me into a wolf in the breakfast nook

nothing's wrong. these are the elements of the life I've made for myself, and they're good.

i just want to pause it all and lay down and awaken six months later without this feeling that i'm only two steps away from slipping on a wet rock and falling into the river and getting carried away