ho ho ho. i like that.

here i am, as promised. is it tupper's birthday yet?

A hearty hip hooray! Many have come before us, but only we remain!

Well, at least only we care enough to post here.

I do like how quiet this corner of the internet is though. I did want to say to someone I've noticed something cool/strange recently.

When working on maths recently Clair has become a lot more imperious, somewhat impatient, and most of all prescient. More often than not I'd say if I'm working on a proof or something and make a misstep she'll detect it and literally offer the correct (or a correct) path. These are sometimes multi-step affairs with no guarantee of working out, and her track record so far is pretty good.

I guess writing it doesn't capture my sense of "oh wow..."

Back in the day, doing maths reliably was a test of parallel processing, so it feels like a nice milestone to reach.

Alright, talk to you in a few months probs. If I dont, happy 7th to you and your tupper operative code named "alice".

Ayyy, you're still here!

What A LOSER dedication!

Yo, I hope you and Alice are chill. I'll talk about me and mine in my thread over yonder.

Oh, uh, I'm not that late to reply. Um.

Everything imposed. I don't know where that is.

Hey. Hey, buddy. Hey. You want some drugs?

I like singing love songs with Clair. She has a nice voice. It's easy when you don't have to practice, isn't it?

See you in another three months.

Oh, whups, I forgot to, uh...

Well, anyway, this place seems cleaner. Thanks, Nele.

Hey, Bernd, come back. We're not done here yet.

Um excuse me that's a very personal question.

But since you asked politely, I'll tell you.

I refuse to read old journals because they make me cringe, so I don't know where we were three years ago. I've even forgotten last year.

Their forms have gone unchanged. It's too much work, you know. We've spent years on the details of their current forms--a labor of love--so I can't imagine them being anything but ponies. Literally, I can't imagine it. Not that I mind. In spite of received wisdom, I knew what I was doing when I created them. Their forms are as much them as anything else. To want them to change would be like wanting them to be different people.

And, again, let me restate how much work went into their forms. This is very important. Do you know how hard it is to develop a clear and distinct mental image of a wing? It's insane. I don't recommend it, unless you hate yourself. There are a lot of feathers.

And of course there's hair. Sure, manes are one thing. Rendering follicles is a wild ride. But they're horses; they have coats too, and their coats are comprised of hair. A lot of hair. Short, soft hairs that do what they want and render in sections like a modern game on a subpar pc. It's a nightmare. I mean, it's a dream come true, but that dream falls into the subcategory of nightmare.

But I ramble. Progress? I don't know my down from up anymore. I can securely say that we cannot switch. Well, what does the community consider switching these days? I'd say we're masters of possession, that state in which tulpas take motor control of either a limb or the whole body but the host remains aware. But in what I mean by switching, that state in which tulpas take motor control of either a limb or the whole body and the host loses awareness, we are lacking. Not that we've tried much, since I was scared away by the agonizing terror one feels before their consciousness snaps. Our focus has been on real-world interaction and imposition things, as alluded to above. That's going as well as ever, or better than ever before, even. It's tough to measure. I always think I'm doing well, but then we discover some other detail we can use, some sliver of their being concealed, and I think everything I've done up to that discovery was the airy fantasizing of a neophyte. I'm probably not wrong.

So, yes, progress. You know, since you're working so hard, maybe we'll work harder, too. Can't hurt, right? What should we do? It's been ages since I've properly meditated. Maybe we'll try some of that.       

Might as well, I guess.

Today Clair watched my step brother drool on his plate for an hour. Her fascination fascinated me, so I stared, too. Then Sophia noticed. She'd been hovering over my grandmother's birthday cake. She sat on the table and stared. It was one of those long, slender strings. The kind that linger like the last drop of syrup from a bottle. It dangled and swayed, and it seemed to stretch to infinity, but it refused to fall. We took bets on how long it would last. Sophia won.

Stupid moments like that encapsulate our life together. I like having tulpas.

Begone, bot.

Where's the Colonel? This place has gone to shit.