

Corvoe
@ardourAugury
Th£y/Th£m.
W£ don’t hav£ anything to talk about anymor£. £v£ry combination of words has b££n play£d out. Th£ atoms don’t form us anymor£.
publishing to the jury: captain's log: star date 67.420e^∆π opening statement: dear diary: this is my first entry, + i have to admit i don't know the proper decorum. maybe i should introduce myself, but i don't exactly know what's worth mentioning... i'm dead, obviously. i still go by trycks treats. it's still just as accurate to call me filigree hallowen, esq., but i've played around with a few alternate titles. the flamingo is particularly fun. but there hasn't really been a reason not to just use my hatchname, so that's been the default. i mean, i'm not exactly a practicing legislacerator anymore, there's no reason for formalities… i don't know. anyways, i've been dead for a long time. so has everyone from my timeline, as far as i can tell, not that i. testimony: moving on. this is a traveler's log of the dreambubbles. there's no sense of time, so i'll just devote an entry to each bubble i explore, starting here. testimony: insofar as it needs a name to be written about, the bubble i'm writing this entry from is the margaritaville bubble. i have been here for a very long time. very recently i've been to some other bubbles, but i keep coming back here. to peoplewatch, if nothing else point of order: i haven't gotten back in the lazy river. testimony: which, uh, leads me to the next bit where i describe this place. aside from my general review, which i might as well say here instead of leave for the end: it's the next best thing to comfortable malaise. sidebar: fucking hell it sounds pretentious when i'm writing in the notes app instead of just posting directly on chittr. i guess i've never minded being pretentious but its a little embarrassing. whatever testimony: anyways, this place is a take on the idea of a beach. not as abstract of a representation as it could be, or surreal or jazy or dreamlike or what-have-you, but certainly more artificial than someone's direct memory of a beachside, or a thous+ people's memory of a beachside testimony: as far as i can tell, it *is* stitched together from a lot of different memories, rather than recreating any single one. it makes the place more metaphorically real, gives it physical heft + sensation, alongside enabling it to take up a plausibly-infinite amount of dreamspace, but it becomes unspecific in another way. not undefined... i don't know. i just unlive here, not study it testimony: to quit waxing rhapsodical for a second + describe the damn place, it's actually a riverbank. it stretches on for what might be forever, endless + mostly empty dunes of s+ that wide this way + that around a 4-5 strut pods deep, maybe 7 strut pods wide if that. there's an endless parade of trolls in buoyancyrings, lounging in various states of relaxation + disassociation as the river washes amiably ever forward. the immediate bank of the river is concrete, as are the sides + bottom of the river itself. there's river rocks + pebbles dotted along, in piles that appear entirely natural (albeit strange for being on concrete rather than, i don't know, dirt) but are placed in that arrangement at exactly consistent intervals much further than the gaze bulbs can see in either direction. sidebar: i spent a lot of time in one of those buouyancyrings, time being as-ever a relative term. it was a nice enough place to give up, but i can't earnestly recommend it. testimony: beyond the riverbanks, though, at least less blatantly trollmade, is the beach. one side is s+ dunes + one side is shore. it does not extend in either direction farther than you can easily see from your position on the river, flowing waves + piles of s+ cut off into perfect nothingness past a fixed horizon line, neatly severed from pretense. testimony: the beach has variety: cheaply-made lawnring flamingos, frondtrees swaying gentle in the completely still absence of any breeze to speak of, mildly different variations on the formula that is less defined than the endless lazy river's. i can see a little bar st+ here of some alien design, from which i have enjoyed mostly margaritas of various flavors. testimony: this stretch of beach has s+ that is pleasantly coarse, gray + cold, + has been delicately threaded with kelp. the water isn't the murky turmulent gray that would match the s+ in its natural biome: it's the exact same piercing, clear, slowly-lapping blue that is, removed of the context of the closest thing to infinity i can imagine, admittedly quite pleasant. there's sections of green that imply varying depth in tropical waters, although there is nothing at all beneath the surface of the water. sidebar: it's strange. the fog that comes from a beach like this would obviously ruin the pseudotropical atmosphere that i am here precisely because i crave, but its absence is jarring + wrong. testimony: sitting at the edge of the shore, strut pods hanging off the edge, is unsettling. the nausea it induces is novel enough i have tried not to overindulge testimony: i don't like the side with dunes nearly as much, but you have to admit it has the better view of the shore + its other inhabitants. the lawn chairs are alright, but i think i prefer sitting on a towel in the shade of a frond tree. testimony: now that i'm stationary, rather than drifting, i can hear the songs being played around me in full rather than simply catching sections of them. it will not surprise you to learn that it is primarily the works of the legendary jimmie bufett, but i've heard other tunes plucked out inexpertly on nearby ukeleles. that part i do recommend closing statement: this place helped me through something, + i will miss it. i hope i don't come back.
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GANDER’S GANDER INTO THE FOLKS OF CHITTR PART ⒊⒉ — @glaringActuality Trycks Treats WARNING: #LONG … Wait a minute, haven’t we already DONE Trycks Treats? YES! WE HAVE! But this is a DIFFERENT TRYCKS. This one (⒈)… is DEAD. (CROWD GASP!) (Is saying Dead insensitive? Geese, I hope not. Existentially challenged? Unalive? No, unalive is dumb. What is this, Newspeak on a Budget?) This blog will be a little different than the others: I want to begin with JUXTAPOSING THE TRYCKSES before delving into who Dead Trycks is. (For that, I want to politely redirect you to PART ⒈⒏ OF THIS WINDINGLY-LONG SERIES TO REFRESH YOURSELF ON WHAT WE’RE DEALING WITH HERE.) You’d think there wouldn’t be differences to point out, but this couldn’t be any Further from the Truth. I also append this with a Hypothesis and an Offer extended to all of my Dead Chittrers. If YOU, TOO, ARE NO LONGER ON THE LIVING PLANE, please stick around to hearread what I have in store. With that out of the way, let’s Take A Gander at Trycks Treats! (CROWD CHEER!!) i. THE THESPIAN To quickly recap, Trycks Treats, at her culmination, struggles with who she is behind the Stage Curtains. Trycks, irrespective of the VERSION YOU’RE LOOKING AT, is not comfortable with the absence of its mask; more than that, sevs ROLE in society. It’s easier to be defined by the world than having to come to that conclusion yourself, and I think Trycks (Dead) attests to that. To keep it Short, Sweet, and Easy on the Bulbs: the Trycks you know here is dead. Literally. But I do also mean this figuratively, in the way that the legislacerating front has been long shed. OK, LOOK, I’m not saying that sev is a COMPLETELY different person now. Think of it as a divergence from the CORE OF TRYCKS——at least, the One (⒈) We All Know. ★ is a BAD END that emerged from the grave to bombard you with a Grimterestboard Menagerie of Emojis and GOOD VIBEZ. Trycks is diametrically opposed to the one we know in a way that has you straightening on your chair and wondering WHAT WENT ✕✕✕? Not because of the Tragedy sev has faced, but the fact that suddenly, sev has capsized sevs OWN IDENTITY. No longer loud and bombastic, but adopting a quieter policy, not simply in cadence alone. Relax, put your pods ↑ and float idly in the lazy river that is the REST OF YOUR DEATH. It sure is easy being dead. Trycks has abandoned just about everything that made him a HARDWORKER to pursue a simpler life, an Easy One, in his words. No more acting, →? Not really. The (metaphorical) Thespian isn’t dead. That title still rings true in the Grand Scheme Of Things. Because you find that, where the vacancy opens, a new pretence occ↑ies its space. ★ takes on the FOREVER VACATION mindset, a place where all your qualms go to rest. You can indulge and keep indulging without pause like the Hedonist you are. But this in itself is still another front he wears. There’s little ingenuity in that, no matter what it tells you. Having said that, allow me to posit my first conclusion: The Vacation is a Lie. ii. THE FLAMINGO Wait. The Vacation is a LIE?! (Plot Twist!) (I Don’t Mean This Literally!) (But The Vacation Means Something!) (Metaphorically!) I mean, if the grass is so good on the other side, surely there’s no need to JUMP THE FENCE to mingle with the Living Locals. Wouldn’t that make you feel worse? Surely one (⒈) understands the hierarchical dichotomy that is ALIVE VS DEAD? Simply put, Trycks has reached out as a way of feeling less isolated in the Afterlife, striking conversations with people she once knew, and lingering over them like the smell of perfume. Perhaps the truth is as it believes: it interacts with others to sate its boredom and catch ↑ with old friends. If you asked me, it’s even more selfish. It’s Desperation. It’s REFUSAL that death is forever. Because reaching out wasn’t the cure, but the symptom. The plight of the DEAD, I find, is the fact that your mind doesn’t die. Maybe it diminishes over time, but it never truly ceases. The worst part is, the fallout is happening → in front of us. Let’s face it: the replacement of the act was never the point. In the pursuit of being opposite to his ideals, he has become a caricature of himself. A statement that bleeds into what she is and isn’t at the same time: someone who can only function in hiding, and someone pretends they don't. One layer has to be under another in order not to topple over completely. Relaxation veils desperation. It’s all to distance sevenself from the glaring actuality: sev is dead, and there is little sev can do about it. That’s why it’s easier to call death a vacation from responsibility, given that you no longer have anything to do. HOWEVER, Trycks is grounded by activity, the thrill of HAVING SOMETHING TO DO. This isn’t any different for this edition. Even if it proclaims the CALM LIFE IS THE BETTER DEATH, that desire to be active isn’t lost on it. Rather, it’s morphed into a sort of stagnancy, a foist into untimely retirement. All this knowledge has become worthless since there’s no case to defend. The flamingo, above all else, represents balance and its loss. Someone (⒈) as well-spoken and argumentative as Trycks Treats having all their talents become obsolete can leave you with a deepening ache, especially for someone who lives for the crowd. What happens when the curtains fall on you? I understand how harrowing it is to lose your own life, thus being thrown off your life’s Trajectory. The flamingo is dead. But the flamingo also represents Fantasy. A Clumsy Escape. The cloying taste of pink in your mouth that makes your tract sick. A dead flamingo is still pink. You still have something to look at. OK, OK, I’M DONE WITH THE ANALOGY. The point is, all of this has been a crafted COPING MECHANISM, disconnected complacency only a front to the real grief he hides from. When you are removed from all that you know, you turn belly-side ↑, and it’s NOT for a moontan. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for everything you had to endure. I can understand why you cling to the #CHILLMODE Refrain——you aren’t ready to let go yet. The clever adapt, and you are doing exactly that; shifting to your situation and looking for the best opportunity. But this isn’t your destination either. Don’t think it is. You are a person who ♥s to feel like they’re winning. This HASN’T CHANGED: you’ve tried to best your circumstances by taking your death as an ABSOLUTE WIN. YOU CANNOT STAND THE FEELING OF BEING BEATEN. The problem is, you’re already at the end of the finishing line. You don’t have to keep running. Not from your issues, not from your grief, not from who you are. 🗨 to someone, even yourself. (The living version of you.) I mean, no one can understand you Better Than Trycks Treats, and yet you continually poke fun at him. Try to Know who You Are and what to do next, even if it means peeling away at everything. Find the fundamentals. You have all eternity to do so. When you’re ready, the truth you’re looking for will finally blossom. (SUSPECTED CLASSPECT: ROGUE OF VOID? An interesting case. TRYCKS HAS INVERTED! This doesn’t mean ★ has turned from the light. It’s the opposite. The BASK OF KNOWLEDGE has become FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN. What am I meant to do? I don’t want to go. I had everything figured out, once. The fear of being nothing but a shadow of what it once was. This is why he’s here, trying to make his presence as known as possible. This is a fear she will grow into and ultimately harness as her own strength.) ADDENDUM: PIXELLATION + AN OFFER So it has been SECONDHANDEDLY PROVEN that there is LIFE AFTER DEATH, and it isn’t as Nice as you think. You don’t get the privilege to die forever, only exist in a different medium. I don’t think anyone 🗨s about the horrors of living in a limbo painted as The End. We can see here that it isn’t necessarily PEACEFUL beyond the CHILLAXING OVERTONES. If anything, it’s TERRIFYING. You’re alone, wandering, and expected to melt away for the rest of eternity. You aren't ready to call it quits, you had a whole LIFE ahead of you! Like pixels on a screen that keeps shrinking. A face you can’t entirely make out anymore. There was an art piece here ← to admire. It’s for that reason I want to extend the possibility of a private interview session for those from the AFTERLIFE. Think of it as a way to examine, sympathize, and preserve you + your memories in these trying times. I’d like to hear things from YOUR side and see if we can make your circumstances a little Easier. Does that make this an impromptu therapy session? Well, I’m not Certified, but I can Sure Try! (Rhyme) Anywhom. You should Follow Trycks Treats… NOW! I’m gonna get a Move On with these interview questions. SEE YOU IN THE NEXT ONE! #gandertag
That w£ continu£ to p£rsist at all is a t£stam£nt to our faith in on£ anoth£r.

Lik£, b£ach photo from my lik£, most r£c£nt offic£ trip! Lik£ totally lik£, thank you to all my lik£ favourit£s who lik£, t£nd£d to my n££ds lik£, as usual lik£, LMAO. Also lik£ a big thank you to @gangstasCrossbon£s for b£ing lik£ totally lik£, on£ of my favourit£ lik£ trolls lik£, ATM. <3 Lik£, totally lik£, way too kind!!! https://fil£.gard£n/aFlKpc9M6VY7C8VR/b£achvo£.png
W£ don’t hav£ anything to talk about anymor£. £v£ry combination of words has b££n play£d out. Th£ atoms don’t form us anymor£.










