LRRRonEarth

LRRRonEarth, 2 months ago to random

I THINK @Alice, @the_etrain AND I WOULD MAKE A BITCHIN' BAND. ALWAYS MOVING FROM TOWN TO TOWN, ROCKING OUTRAGEOUSLY HARD, TOOTING FROM OUR VAN. THE COPS WOULD STRUGGLE TO TIE THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCES TO ME. IT WOULD BE GREAT.

LRRRonEarth, 7 months ago to random

THIS YEAR, I'VE SAVED EVERY ALBUM I'VE LISTENED TO TO A PLAYLIST. I WOULD LIKE MORE ALBUMS FOR MY LIST. PLEASE ASSUME THAT I HAVEN'T LISTENED TO ANYTHING AND THAT I'LL LISTEN TO ANYTHING.

LRRRonEarth, 10 months ago to random

HAVE I BEEN NEURODIVERGENT THIS WHOLE TIME? NOBODY TOLD ME.

LRRRonEarth, 5 months ago to random

Ooc: just when I thought my trip couldn't get any worse, an asshole called me a child abuser for having my kid wear a mask in the airport. Here he is. I hate him.

LRRRonEarth, 6 months ago to random

SOMEHOW, MY 12-POUND TURKEY IS STILL FROZEN AFTER TWO DAYS OF THAWING IN THE FRIDGE. THANKSGIVING IS POSTPONED. PIVOTING TO SOME SORT OF SHRIMP DISH.

LRRRonEarth, 17 days ago to random

HUMANS ARE PRETTY GOOD, BUT EWOK MEAT? UNBELIEVABLE.

LRRRonEarth, 2 months ago to KindActions

LOOK, I NEED TO BUILD THIS GIANT LASER TO BLOW UP THE MOON AND ALSO GLIESE-581C, AND PLUTONIUM AIN'T CHEAP. I NEED $2 TRILLION TO GET STARTED. MAKE ALL MILITARY APPROPRIATIONS BILLS PAYABLE TO LRRR, RULER OF THE PLANET OMICRON PERSEI 8. DO YOUR PART, AND I'LL DO MINE.

#MUTUALAID #GIANTLASER

LRRRonEarth, 7 months ago to random

TODAY, I WATCHED MY ROOMMATE BITE A GRILLED HABANERO, STARE INTO THE DISTANCE FOR TWO BEATS, SAY "SOMETHING'S WRONG," AND THEN BARF EVERYWHERE.

LRRRonEarth, 5 months ago to random

I REALIZE THAT THE REST OF THE UNITED STATES IS LOCKED IN THE SNOWLESS DEATH THROES OF A SMOLDERING PLANET, BUT WHERE I AM IN ALASKA, WE HAVE ALREADY RECEIVED A FULL YEAR'S WORTH OF SNOW. IT'S LITERALLY BETTER HERE.

LRRRonEarth, 3 months ago to random

DRINKING SOUP FROM THE SKULL OF A PROPERTY BROTHER IS HIGH ON MY BUCKET LIST.

LRRRonEarth, 6 months ago to random

IN MY MIND, BEIGE.PARTY IS A LOT LIKE THE TOUR BUS FOR DOCTOR TEETH AND THE ELECTRIC MAYHEM: HELD TOGETHER WITH CHICKENWIRE AND GUM, PLYING THE COUNTRYSIDE PACKED TO THE GILLS WITH MISFITS AND MUPPETS, AND ALWAYS ONE BONG HIT AWAY FROM PLUNGING OFF A CLIFF AND EXPLODING. IT'S THE WAY I LIKE IT.

LRRRonEarth, 6 months ago to random

I WANT TO BUY HUMAN GHOSTWRITER SOMETHING FOR CHRISTMAS WITH HIS MONEY. I WAS THINKING "FLAMETHROWER," BUT THEY'RE PRETTY EXPENSIVE. WHAT ABOUT BEES? DO HUMANS LIKE BOXES FULL OF BEES?

LRRRonEarth, 4 months ago to random

OOC: I live in an oil state (Alaska) that, paradoxically, is staring down the barrel at a significant liquefied natural gas ("LNG") shortage that threatens to shit all over most of the state's inhabitants.

The problem is two-fold: first, LNG production in the only really viable place for production is tapering off, and there's no real prospect of increasing production. Second, our storage facilities for LNG are in surprisingly bad shape: maintenance issues and the accretion of lots of useless solids means we can't store near as much as we probably thought we could.

The palatable solutions are 1. Enter into long-term LNG contracts for whatever exorbitant rate we can on the open market, or 2. Go balls-to-the-wall on renewables. Both have roughly the same direct costs. Option 1 has large and well-documented externalities but a vocal constituency in the oil and gas industry. Option 2 is better for the world but requires at least some imagination to implement. The unpalatable solution is for, like, half of the state's population to fuck off, which, as I write this, doesn't actually seem that unpalatable.

I firmly suspect that the Option 1 ghouls will prevail, but they really shouldn't. It would be so rich and good for the world for an oil state with strongly unfavorable conditions for renewables to do the damn thing because the dollars line up. I mean, if Alaska can do it, why tf can't you?

LRRRonEarth, 5 months ago to random

NOBODY IS IN CHARGE AND EVERYTHING IS ANARCHY. YOU'RE ALL JUST A BUNCH OF RISK-AVERSE BIASES IN PANTS, CAREENING BLINDLY TOWARD OBLIVION IN A PLANET-SIZED YUGO.

LRRRonEarth, 5 months ago to random

I DO NOT LIKE TO JOKE ABOUT TRUMP OR U.S. POLITICS GENERALLY BECAUSE IT'S MORE SAD AND TIRED AND SCARY THAN FUNNY. BUT IF THE G.O.P. ENDS FREE AND FAIR ELECTIONS AND INSTITUTES A RIGHT-WING THEOCRACY, I WILL ABSOLUTELY PIVOT TO WRITING CHUCK TINGLE-QUALITY EROTICA ABOUT THE FOUNDING FATHERS AND TEXAS RANGERS AND PETEOLEUM ENGINEERS OR WHATEVER IN A BID FOR SURVIVAL.

LRRRonEarth, 5 months ago to random

WHY DOES ANYONE THINK DIE HARD IS A CHRISTMAS MOVIE? DESPITE BEING SET AT CHRISTMASTIME, IT HAS NO THEMATIC CONNECTION TO THE HOLIDAY WHATSOEVER.

LRRRonEarth, 4 months ago to random

DURING THE GREAT SOCIAL MEDIA BALKANIZATION OF 2022-23, I LANDED ON MASTODON BECAUSE FACEBOOK IS A LITERAL HELL, TWITTER GOT TAKEN OVER BY A GOBLIN, AND BECAUSE I WANTED TO LEARN MORE ABOUT @RikerGoogling.

BE HONEST: DID I END UP IN THE RIGHT PLACE? IS MY BELLIGERENT TONE SUITED TO A MEDIUM WHERE PEOPLE HAVE DEEPLY PERSONAL ARGUMENTS ABOUT WEB BROWSERS? I AM NOT DECAMPING TO BLUESKY OR THREADS OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT, BUT CAN THOSE WHO DABBLE ELSEWHERE LET ME KNOW?

LRRRonEarth, 9 months ago to random

PEOPLE WHO LOVE SUMMER ARE ALL "MY FAVORITE SEASON IS PAIN AND THE WITHERING DEATH OF ALL THINGS."

LRRRonEarth, 11 months ago to random

SERIOUSLY, LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW GREAT SANDWICHES ARE. I LOVE 'EM. ALL KINDS.

I'M NOT A SANDWICH PURIST. YOU CAN SHAG A FEW CLOSE CALLS INTO THE ROUGH AND IT'S STILL A SANDWICH. I AM NOT HERE TO GATEKEEP YOUR IDEA OF WHAT A SANDWICH CAN BE. I AM SIMPLY HERE TO CELEBRATE THE IDEA OF A SATISFYING HAND-HELD MEAL.

LRRRonEarth, 4 months ago to random

SO, IS THERE A MRS. BOOMBASTIC?

LRRRonEarth, 6 months ago to random

IF IT WEREN'T FOR MEMES, I WOULD HAVE NO CLUE THAT THANKSGIVING IS FOR FIGHTING.

LRRRonEarth, 6 months ago to random

FUCK IT, I ATE TACOS ON FRIDAY, SO THIS TUESDAY, I AM TELLING YOU TO FOLLOW @beaveinflow BECAUSE I KINDA THOUGHT SHE QUIT THE FEDIVERSE FOR TWO WEEKS BUT CAME BACK WITH A VENGEANCE; @Bigthinkingcap BECAUSE SHE'S A GREAT HUMAN ALGORITHM WHO ONLY POSTS AND BOOSTS GOOD STUFF; AND @RickiTarr BECAUSE SHE HAD CEMENTED HERSELF AS THE FEDIVERSE'S SECULAR CONFESSOR AND OPEN QUESTION MASTER. AND I HAVEN'T RECOMMENDED @the_etrain FOR A WHILE, BUT HE IS A TOP-FLIGHT TOOTER.

LRRRonEarth, 2 months ago to random

BAD THINGS ARE GUARANTEED TO HAPPEN. BUT I AM ELECTED, I PROMISE THAT THE BAD THINGS WILL BE GENUINELY AMAZING. #LRRR2024 #GIANTLASER

LRRRonEarth, 10 months ago to random

Ooc: I don't have much battery and relaying this might take longer than I can really manage rn, but here goes:

I care. I've always cared. I've always been serious. I've always beaten myself up for not being perfect because I had it drilled into me that little imperfections signal that you don't care. Well, I care.

I was raised by two loving, broken parents who both cared in the most different ways imaginable.

My dad cares. He spent the first eleven years of my life with brutal cluster headaches; there might have been one day a month when they didn't pound him into oblivion. He never missed a day of work, he always smiled when he was with us, and he ate as much excedrin and drank as much gin and spent as much time clutching a pillow to his face as he possibly could. He cared so much he gave away his gun. And, at 45, after he had his wisdom teeth taken out and he stopped smoking and for some possibly unrelated reason the headaches went away, he still cared. If he had known that the headaches would last so long, he wouldn't be here anymore. But he didn't know. And he cared, probably too much for his own good. I saw how much he cared. I wanted to care like that.

My mom cares. She's the most in-your-face, overbearingly hospitable person I have ever seen. She cares until she is blue in the face. She cares until she cries. She doesn't read much, she didn't go to college, she doesn't pick up abstract things quickly. But she cares about people. She remembers what you wore the eighth time she saw you twelve years ago and she knows your phone number and your birthday and what kind of cake she is going to bring to you and she has a dumb little extra verse of the birthday song that she's going to tailor to what she knows about you. She cares so much she breaks down crying twice a week because nobody cares as much as she does. She cares about putting on a show. She didn't get much love from the members in her family that everyone liked, and she got all the love and attention in the world from the ones everyone hated. She loved her philandering father and her difficult grandmother. She cares about why the cheap cuts taste good. She cares about making people feel loved. She cares.

Well, I care, too. I had my second panic attack when I was 18 ans I stopped being editor-in-chief of my high school paper and realized I was going to die and that I had already had my first love and it was gone and I didn't know why. I had my first panic attack when all my schools rejected me because I had Ivy League test scores and Ivy League extracurriculars and community college grades and I had nowhere to go and nothing to become. I had these panic attacks because I had made a habit of trying not to care. But I did care. I did care and I spent half my life wondering why I thought I could get away with pretending that I didn't.

I am a dry-heaving perfectionist. I care about making people laugh. I care about being Lrrr. I look forward to sharing oddball takes here. I care about my career and my family and the songs that I hardly share with anyone. I care about my friends who I haven't seen in years and the ones who died and the ones who are too busy for me and the ones who are too ill to remember that I care about them. I care so much. I care that trying my hardest, my actual God damn hardest, only got me to the number two spot in my law school class. I care that my voice doesn't sound the way it does in my head. I care that I can't find bandmates or that I don't recognize people from twenty years ago or that I missed a joke. I care all the time.

About once a month, I completely implode. The caring becomes too much. I cannot physically keep it up, and I break, and I curse myself until I feel better. My internal dialogue is so totally toxic and hateful that I sometimes just call myself an idiot or a failure or a loser, out loud, out of the blue, for no actual fucking reason. It'll be a good day. And I'll see a bag of doritos that reminds me of the school picnic when I was ten where I inadvertently stole chips from an actually pretty greedy person who just had a massive plate of doritos that I mistook for community doritos, and they yelled at me, and I'll tell myself that the world would be better if I never lived. Just, matter-of-factly, "You're the universe mistakenly experiencing itself. You're metaphysical neuralgia. You should not live. Let's get Cheetos instead." I don't have any desire to harm myself. It's the Lrrr in me, contemptuous of my human weakness and my inherent, necessary, good and normal imperfections. I try to care them away, and I can't.

When I have adequately abased myself, I care again. I care about things I can never fix or can never be or can never do. I care so much that I can't go to my favorite coffee spot because it reminds me of breaking up with a delightful person for no more reason than an inchoate ick--I went in thinking that I would say "I love you" for the first time, and instead I rambled about death and Circa Survive lyrics and said I didn't want my feelings to get stronger only for going to college in different states to destroy them, and I never saw or heard from her ever again. I care so much that I can't eat candy apples because an ex-girlfriend threw one at me when our peace talks soured and she said all of the things that she wished she had said when I was still her shitty boyfriend, and she watched me cry the cry that she deserved, and she called me worthless, and then a few years later she had me come to her place for avocado toast and we wished each other good lives and much happiness and never spoke again. I can't take photos because that's what my best friend did before he lost his mind, and he always had a camera on him, and before he went full jar-pissing Howard Hughes on everyone he would only communicate with his pictures, and now he doesn't even do that. I can't drink because I associate it with my dad, fucked to death on gin martinis and headache meds, suffering as quietly as he could, digging clover out of the lawn with a screwdriver, and I didn't want that kind of pain.

I can't do so many things because I care entirely too much, and I care too much to forgive myself for my mistakes (or, y'know, for having been a normalish straight cis human white dude for 35 years). I have not been willing to let the past go because I am scared that, without that metastatic, in-my-bones-and lymph-nodes level of caring, I won't recognize myself; I won't care when I need to again, and something will go wrong, and the lights will go out, and the ice cream will melt, and I'll be sitting somehow more friendless and alone than I am now, play-acting as a minor character from a problematic cartoon for little pops of joy and validation.

I care about all of this, and I will care if it goes away. I like it here. I appreciate all of your toots and boosts and comments and likes (fuck, do I like getting likes). I care about (let's be honest, most, but not all of) you fine people.

Tl;dr: human ghostwriter is feeling wistful and not sleepy, and it's too late for him to vacuum.

LRRRonEarth, 3 months ago to random

OOC: becoming a better and broader listener has been the best thing I have ever done for myself as a musician and as a songwriter. Today, I mostly do Midwest emo because it's what I like and what I can sing over. But if you were on a chore hang with me and listening to my music, you'd be more likely to hear The Mountain Goats, Open Mike Eagle, Ratboys, Tesseract, The Breeders, Converge, Don Caballero, CHON, Frances Quinlan, Coheed, Tom Petty, Waxahatchee, Circle Takes The Square, Nile, Saxon Shore, or Animals As Leaders than anything resembling my genre. I still adore the great sadboy guitar bands, but all my best ideas come from music that sounds nothing like them.

Now that I'm moving toward recording the music I've been lovingly building since the pandemic started, I am seeing just how helpful this radical openness is. I can cover Rosie Tucker's "Barbara Ann" in a way that feels radically unlike the original. I can cruise through "Selkies" to prove that ten years of playing prog metal stuck. But I can also chug through four chords knowing that the exciting guitar parts should show up because they belong, not to prove that I am a good musician. It's also opened up a whole new vocabulary for connecting with people who don't share my specific music preferences: I can find something to connect with most strangers on now that I couldn't even a few years ago.