this was not r8

Would this be considered rule 8?

What's up with all the blogposts?

i cant post on /jp/
I every time I try to say something but i got this error msg

テスト

cunny in the cleanliness thread

待ち受け画像にしようか

i need sum1 to chat with me (;´Д`)

I remember when heyuris front page looked like this

Reply with yr dav kaomojis!!
ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆
(,,•﹏•,,)
✧⁺⸜(･ ᗜ ･ )⸝⁺✧
(੭ ˃̶͈̀ ω ˂̶͈́)੭⁾⁾
♪ ٩( ´ω` )و ♪

Lately I've been watching some old games I used to play on YouTube (Starcraft 2 predominantly).

Having spent a collective 2 decades on the internet, I have naturally saved loads of stuff over the years. Pictures, graphics, movies, random shit ive saved from imageboards, groupchats, irc logs, lists of addresses, old passwords, everything. One of my lifelong fears was losing all this one day, so I was always very militaristic about backups and data-safekeeping.

Today, I decided to do away with all of it. None of it matters, really. 99% of I never, ever look at. Digital hoarding is pointless, and really just is a psychological anchor to your computer. I deleted almost everything except a few sentimental things that I actually do like to look at over the years, and downsized my harddrive from my old 4TB, to a 1tb, which is enough for everything I have plus a few games (and I still have 640gb left over).

I also started nofap a month or so ago, so deleting all the random pr0n (or at least, triggers) that was scattered across my computer has probably saved me at some point.

Getting rid of all this.. e-junk, really changed how I view my computer and the time i spend on it. Did I mention bookmarks? I used to have a huge bookmarks tab where I kept easy access to all the sites I use (including heyuri!). I deleted that too. If I need to go somewhere, I ought to have the will to type it in.

TL;DR: Over the years, you save an enourmous amount of junk that just weighs you down, whether you realize it or not. I think getting rid of it has helped me alot.

It's weird how some forms of humor involve humiliating others.
The ambiguity between good humor and bad humor confuses me.

I'm reading this book called 'What Women Want' by Daniel Bergner, basically a review of women's sexuality, with word from sexologists and sexual anecdotes from various women. In it there's a chapter which seeks to explain why women tend to show a certain appreciation for other women, in a way that men don't with other men:

Meana was a psychology professor at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas,and just before I flew out to meet her, she said that we should start by going together to a Cirque du Soleil show at one of the casinos. So, soon after my plane landed, we sat in a darkened U-shaped theater and began our conversation while a pair of topless, dark-haired women in G-strings dove backward into a giant water-filled champagne glass on stage. The women plunged in from opposite sides of the pool, swam toward each other, and entangled with each other, eel-like. They slid up the walls, arching their spines and dragging their
breasts along the glass."

Next, a wispy blonde came skipping like a schoolgirl out on stage. Wearing a tiny pleated skirt, she swirled her hips and kept a set of hula hoops spinning around her waist. Suddenly a cable snatched her up above the audience, hoisting her high. It was her act’s climactic moment, a symbolic ravishing. The nymphet opened her legs wide above our eyes, splitting them wider than seemed humanly possible; the splitting was almost violent.

Then a sinewy black woman wearing only beads thrust and pumped her gleaming body to a tribal beat. The soft-porn performances followed each other in fast succession, the stage dominated by arresting women.
The audience was divided equally between the sexes."

Finally the platinum-wigged MC cried out,
“Where’s the beef?” and a long-haired man in a cowboy’s vest and chaps
climbed through a trap door. He strutted and swiveled and bared his abdominal ladder of muscle. He shed the chaps, kept only his groin covered, and stood in his cowboy boots, flexing his ass. Yet even as male nudity had its minutes, a dozen female bodies surrounded him.
In her early fifties, Meana, wearing a shirtdress and tights that evening and wearing her bronze-colored hair in bangs, didn’t doubt the usual explanations for the fact that women far outnumbered men among the performers, though she didn’t believe they were terribly illuminating. Those explanations went like this:The men in the audience would have been made too uneasy by more male nudity on stage. For them—for the heterosexuals among them, anyway—the cowboy n

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What do you complete the sentence with?

predominantly at an office job. ( ´ω`)

While I first planned to maek a book thread...
I decided to change teh topic to solitude.


Stranger in teh woods by Michael Finkel

It's been awhile since I read it - but it's a book that is rather fascinating. How a man decide to just leave everything behind and simply venture out to teh woods. With out any real reason or preparation. He stayed there for 27 years before teh police caught him. During these years he lived mostly on food he got from breaking in to others summer camps that was "close enough" to him. No one manage to find him or take notice of his camp.

It is based on a real life story. He since then told some of his story and how he sort of lost sense of ones thoughts. To just live in the moment unconsciously. I think this sounds freeing. Some would might call - crazy. I am half crazy so I don't mind! My current life exist at this glowing box. I am very fond of it. I love it. But... everything is an escape. So was his experience into teh woods.

Books as this make me realize that we are always sort of alone with our own experience with life. We can share thoughts with others by talking or writing - but we can never experience what someone else experience. I love my solitude more than anything else. Only alone I feel at ease and see my thoughts clearly. I am kind of jealous of people who dares to just leave all behind.

In a way - hikikomori are in some regards - already living away from society. While teh difference being that they often are connected to the outside world thought teh wired or by family members. I used to be a home security guard so i've my own understanding of this. There is no real struggle besides having family members pushing on their feelings onto me. While my shift only lasted for 2years~. I could imagine longer shift means teh struggle to change gear gets harder for each passing day. While in teh woods - there is non to affect your state of mind. It's either struggle or die. I already struggle - but my struggle are mostly with other people.

Interview with author about "teh last hermit".
https://youtu.be/Bk9w7bc00Uk

Has anyone else dreams such as this?
Has anyone else deep desire of solitude?


well then,
I will add this.

What do you like about imageboards?

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