Walked a couple miles through the local nature preserve, enjoyed the wind and sun, and saw the green pushing up and through last year's detritus. Birds singing, squirrels skittering, No mosquitoes yet. Not much else to ask for (save a sudden end to Covid-19).
Oh my god! It's one of these rare moments. I just lied for a bit to rest my back and relaxed completely, like I was floating and there it was; the most magnificent scene for my WIP. It narrated itself and it is perfect. Felt like I was merely the audience of another director. So strange, yet so fulfilling. I almost teared. It's gonna be dramatic and cathartic and it's gonna feel like crying after sex. Writing is going pretty well these days overall and day after day I'm making accelerated progress. I'm at the point where all hell is about to break loose at last and I'm loving it!
I cry before sex. Sometimes years before. Sometimes years after, now that I think about it. But I don't think there's truly a problem unless it's during. Self-deprecating public remark for the day... check. What did Gandalf say? Not all tears are an evil?
Having experienced it more than once myself, you'd think I could explain the reason...but I can't. *shrugs*
I think the best explanation is that it is an intense release of emotional energy, that overwhelms the person just after the rush of climax.
In other news, I'm fairly certain that after 30 years I've finally perfected my science-fiction form of interstellar space travel. And I think it might be bulletproof. Fuck warp drives and hyperdrives and FTL systems riddled with holes and vague scientific explanation. No more relativistic hand waves. No more gravitational brain farts. No more I-need-it-to-take-a-long-time for the spaceship to travel in one scene and I-need-it-to-act-instanteously-like-a-teleported in another, because, you know, reasons. (I'm looking at you Star Wars and you motherless Disney fucks who turn everything you touch into intolerable dogshit). No more warp 1, warp 2, maximum warp crap either. This might be it! I've been 95% of the way there for decades, but last night I had my eureka moment! And if you must know--which you don't, but I'm going to tell you anyway--I was smoking a bowl on the toilet when it hit me. Back up the money truck... it's time to get paid!
So, change the perception of time of the traveler, therefore they travel in that state, thus making to their destination?
Here's how fucking stupid and blind I am: just until now I thought your profile pic was a storm trooper.
You must be familiar with this in the restaurant? It's what happens when you get the bill... sorry @Malisky - pleased that you are getting such a buzz from your work! I haven't experienced crying after sex, but I have experienced uncontrollable laughter! (which isn't as bad as it sounds, honest)
Hahaha. It's funny how just one comment upon a scene in my WIP got so much attention. I got a way with intrigue. Anyhow, I've never cried after sex, but I imagine it to be cathartic as @Cave Troll said. There are people that cry out of happiness and gratitude and I'm not one of them. When I'm happy I smile. When I'm extremely happy I smile wider and kinda look like a husky on cocaine. When I'm sad... I keep it all inside actually, but if I was to express myself I'd cry. I might tear up though when I'm feeling extremely, but utterly mad in a situation, which is quite rare. I mean I must have experienced it thrice in my life. The feeling of being done wrong by somebody or a situation and not being in a position to do shit about it. I usually turn icy cold when I'm mad. Need my space, you know? As for my character it's a newfound sensation. He just had enough of it all and it's a very complicated situation he's in. It's the breaking point where he changes. It's like crying in the arms of the enemy.
I once smoked a toilet bowl. Good shit. I recently signed for an apartment. It's a rent and only for to-be students, but it feels good to finally be on track in life. Statistically, I should have been in prison, in heavy drug problems, or dead. But I'm starting my degree this year.
I wish you only the best. It'll be rough a lot but you can do it. I know this might sound like empty platitudes, but I also come from an abusive home. You are not a statistic of failure. You have every right to happiness as anyone else. You deserve happiness as much as anyone.
Nah, I'm a piece of shit. My wrong-doings aren't outweighed by volunteer work or other good deeds. I'm a useful person due to my past but not a particularly good person.
I'm a perennial optimist even though I shouldn't be. You don't need to do volunteer work or good deeds to be deserving of happiness. Nothing really you can say to change my mind.