The Drivel Thread

[nicky wire's legs]

I mean, the blog here is a nice feature, but it won't been by the people who need to see it!

 

[Was I ever any good]

No, it's when you write artfully perspicacious walls of texts making fun of people you hate!

You mean like my super coool poetry??

Hey I’m a Blogger

 

[nicky wire's legs]

Shut up

 

[Light Housework]

My right lung bothered me a little after I cleaned some of the floor yesterday. It started while I was chatting with a neighbour who knocked and came in for a while. She gave me two large oranges for finding her keys in the laundry room and turning them in to the building manager. She knocks very softly. I knew she wanted to come in and sit down by her body language. She’s not able to bond with her new mental health worker. I’ve met that worker. I had one session with her and couldn’t connect with her either. My neighbour’s going to give the worker more time, before she makes a complaint. She doesn’t want to hurt the worker’s feelings. I’m seeing a worker this afternoon. We’re going to the cafe. He’s validating to talk with. I haven’t told my neighbour yet about my right lung, never mind that I believe I’m going to die. It just never feels like it’s the right time to tell her, and it’s embarrassing, how I got this mold infection of the lung, so I’m not eager to tell her about it. Maybe telling her could save her from making the same bungle. She’s a nice person. I should tell her. She doesn’t come over very often though, so I probably won’t. I’ve thought about making it my business to officially warn the public about the danger of breathing in a cloud of mold spores, but what stopped me was knowing there are people who will understand that there is an easy way to kill. People like my sister. If she had known what a cloud of mold spores will do when inhaled, when she still had me around, she would have set about rigging up a way to get me to inhale it. She would have done it many decades ago and I would be long dead by now. So, I know there are people like her, who don’t deserve to know the danger. To warn kind people in an official and public manner is to inform killers that there is an easy way to get what they want, and to arm sadists with a means to infect victims’ lungs with a horrible disease that will ultimately kill them.

 

[Light Housework]

I’m just waiting for coffee to brew, and then I’m going to write morning pages. My lung’s not bothering me now. It’s easy to think positively now, as if I can do anything I want to, except grab Morrissey, who is nowhere to be found, near me. I hope to paint today, clean more floor, walk, and maybe go about trying to salvage the stretched canvas that was botched by false watercolour ground. The brand, ‘Golden’, said the right things on the label, but inside the container was the wrong stuff. I got a refund, but I won’t get my time back for the work I did while trusting it was the right substance. Hours. Interlude has been in my head often lately, what with all the promotion about it, but it’s not Morrissey’s voice that I hear, it’s Siouxsie’s. Her vocals dominate the song. Morrissey’s is wispy in it. Ah, but at least it’s there. I wouldn’t bother to listen to it otherwise.

 

[Light Housework]

I feel like procrastinating from writing morning pages. My fingers want to type into the drivel thread and Solo, with the hope that Morrissey will read what I post. I’m savouring not being uncomfortable, and the pleasure in my fingers. I’m thinking of Camila Grey’s piano solo preceding Everyday Is Like Sunday. It must be fun to play it. I remember staying in a women’s shelter in Montreal that was housed inside a nunnery. They had a piano in a large room that no one ever was in, and I sat down and played it for a while, and enjoyed it. It was a white piano I think. We homeless women all slept in one room, with curtains providing some privacy between our beds. It was a beautiful building with large gathering rooms and high ceilings. I don’t remember what the place was called. St. Anne de Croix maybe. I stayed at another nunnery too, also in Montreal, called La Chainon. Once there was a Christmas dance up on the second floor in the beautiful big lounge, and one of the paintings high up on the wall caught my attention. It was serene, and it dawned on me that it was a woman going down on another woman. I mentioned it to a woman I was conversing with, in amusement, but the next day I looked up and the painting was gone. It wasn’t a violent painting. Gruesome violent paintings are accepted. Serenely erotic ones are not. Twisted. Self hating religious nuts. I am grateful to them for having fed, sheltered, and entertained me though. I remember playing their Marvin Gay records on their stereo. Talk about serene. “What’s goin’ on? I’ll tell you what’s goin’ on. Ah ah ah ah."

 

[Light Housework]

This is the photo I want used for my memorial, if I even have one.

 

[Vesper Nocturne]

Well you’d better tell someone, other than the people on this site then

 

[Light Housework]

Well you’d better tell someone, other than the people on this site then

Nobody would show up for my memorial anyway, but Morrissey reads the drivel thread, and that’s what matters most to me.

 

[Vesper Nocturne]

oh, i see. fake memorial to talk about in the fanfic. silly me!

 

[Light Housework]

Morrissey will like my posts, and he will take me in his arms before long, and love me.

 

[Light Housework]

oh, i see. fake memorial to talk about in the fanfic. silly me!

I’ve ceased to converse with nicky wire’s legs, and now I’m ceasing to converse with you. You’re welcome to post in the drivel thread all you want, but I won’t be replying to you anymore.

 

[Light Housework]

"Sir leads the troops
Jealous of youth
Same old jokes since 1902
He does the military two-step
Down the nape of my neck"

 

[Light Housework]

This is my parting gesture to those who have proven beyond any doubt that they are not worth my trust.

 

[Vesper Nocturne]

Morrissey will like my posts, and he will take me in his arms before long, and love me.

Well, you 1000% definitely don’t have Aspergillosis, so there’s that.

In honor of your being on page 387 of repeating the same exact things in every single post, someone should tell you that the chances of you having developed aspergillosis in your lungs from mold spores out of old coffee in an old coffee container, is NIL.

IF you had advanced cystic fibrosis, which you don’t, there would have been a very small chance.

 

[Was I ever any good]

On the 2nd September 2021 the Drivel thread was born.
The Authors first post was ……

“I will be posting my shit on here”

For those who can’t deal with
“Her shit” I’d suggest you ignore “her shit”
And just simply move on.
There is no point simply coming here to bicker with folks, now is there.

 

[Vesper Nocturne]

Don’t see anyone bickering, Bazmatazz. It’s a public thread on a public forum on the internet, and I see people have largely responded in response to, and on topic, to the exact posts and topics that LH chooses to go on about.

If she doesn’t want people replying even on topic, in response to her exact topics, then she is also free to change the nature of her posts, or to change her topics

 

[The Queen of Batons]

To add to recent discussion. Some of the comments on this thread have been less than kind, like many of the comments I read on the internet. I really hope it is true that people say things on the internet that they wouldn't say to people in daily life, as otherwise the world is going to be a horrible place.

I usually leave sites once I see too much negativity, but Morrissey Solo has many redeeming features!

I once tried to start a blog on here about food...my (occasional) attempts at weight loss, vegetarianism, efforts re veganism, eating/frugality and (my passion) avoiding food waste in order to save the planet. I couldn't work out how to do it and then I had misgivings about sharing so much personal information.

So I have a lot of respect for those who do share their lives in this way, as it can help others.

 

[Light Housework]

I just got back from a walk to the cafe in the rain with a mental health worker who’s pretty laid back. I told him that my right lung feels like shit, and when I looked in the mirror when I got home, I saw that I look ill too. The selfies I posted several hours ago don’t look like the same person.

To add to recent discussion. Some of the comments on this thread have been less than kind, like many of the comments I read on the internet. I really hope it is true that people say things on the internet that they wouldn't say to people in daily life, as otherwise the world is going to be a horrible place.

I usually leave sites once I see too much negativity, but Morrissey Solo has many redeeming features!

I once tried to start a blog on here about food...my (occasional attempts at weight loss), vegetarianism, efforts re veganism, eating/frugality and (my passion) avoiding food waste in order to save the planet. I couldn't work out how to do it and then I had misgivings about sharing so much personal information.

So I have a lot of respect for those who do share their lives in this way, as it can help others.

Thank you Queen, for your appreciation.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

This is my parting gesture to those who have proven beyond any doubt that they are not worth my trust.
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You definitely look like the inmate of a medieval insane asylum. You've got the tiny cranium of the insane. Also the most disgusting fat tongue I've ever seen. Horrific.