The Elixir and the Void Mature content No. 30 Published March 26th, 2017 10:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "So... We recently spent a bit of time in San Francisco for a small event, and that means we were in the presence of those on the streets. The event was pleasant -- good people, a few drinks, and some speeches. On the outside it appeared as if everything was fine for us, but oh my... The mental images and difficulties were swirling around within like always. Of course! Why the fuck not? Another day gazing at the (absent) numbers and straining to remain upright while in public. They were there, too. The forms which bring us to a vastly different place. The slide downward began almost immediately as we exited the vehicle and strolled toward the venue. All bad. Ugh. We moved along the street and into the bar (which was unbelievably beautiful, restored to its Victorian glory) where the event was to take place. After ordering we ventured back to the sidewalk to look at the lovely exterior paint and century-and-a-half old windows, and naturally ran straight into a gorgeous form in heels. She paid no attention to the onlookers and glided right on by. We stood, flabbergasted, and immediately began to assemble the words which appear here. The picture of her went by quickly but proceeded to cement itself within us -- and here we are yet again. Alone, in pain, and wondering how much longer we can continue this project with no supporters and no positive outlook. The idea arose to create business cards which carry a QR that would direct prospective interests to a splash. Once there, they would see what we are attempting -- in a completely safe and anonymous manner -- and find contact information. So far, this is the best fucking plan we have had throughout the past two years. We cannot imagine any other method for soliciting anyone to look in our direction. Sound good? Who the fuck knows, but at this late date, and considering how close we have become to giving up on everything, it may be worth a shot. What is the worst outcome? Nothing happens. That is fine... Crippling, but fine. No harm whatsoever to anyone aside from ourselves. And since we are already suffering to no end, the fact remains that the damage could be minimal, and something to which we are accustomed in fucking spades. Perhaps we need to try. Hmm. The more time we spend crammed into this void of information the less likely we will survive at all. Fuck. Amy has the numbers... Yet we do not know of them So... As the early afternoon went on, there were others. We did our best to maintain a social face and demeanor, but as usual we spiraled into that familiar hole caused by not knowing... Not seeing... Not able to quantify. There was no possibility of any study whatsoever, and being in mind of this from the outset did not matter, yet again. We just stood, gazing when possible, and dreaming of the work we feel may bring us up out of the dirt. It can, and might. We just need to get the fucking word out there and see what develops. Reasonable? Who knows. Through the window we looked upon beauty. She crossed the street and walked by the establishment -- all business -- and was dressed to the fucking nines. Her height was exaggerated by heels and a long neck, and her breasts were strained to maintain their position within her sweater. The difference between her chest and midsection below was enough to cause enormous harm within us. As she moved past, we could see slender, defined arms, fingers which screamed at us, and gorgeous chestnut hair bouncing on and off her back. The image was incredible to see. She was quite the gazelle, and with the form of dreams. She glided beyond our vision as we returned to the table, and we then proceeded to fall into a crack in the fucking earth. Yes, she had that sort of effect upon us in mere moments. Good god, why did we have to see? Why could we not pay attention to those inside the bar and not put ourselves through the pain yet again? Fucking hell, why? Now we must sit here and type with her beauty and form spinning us in circles. This type of encounter is going to kill us if we do not change something. We are certain that the endless bellyaching on this index will be ignored soon, and we will be left even more alone. Nice, right? 'Fucking do something.' Well, this is where we reside now... Between the pain of not realizing the obsession, and the difficulty and fear inherent in taking a step. Would it be a step forward or back? We cannot know. The whole thing may prove to be a waste of time and effort. At least remaining where we are now is safe, if cramped. To broaden could be hurtful. Not to others, just toward ourselves. There is no denying the idea that the QR cards could lead to something. There is also no denying the possibility that we could come across as deranged. And if we were not in such dire circumstances, that statement would be funny. Heh. The ratio which began the obsession So... Upon leaving the venue in SF, we ventured nearer to home and lo and behold, the fucking barback was there Remember her? We do. And naturally she was working and looking gorgeous as ever. Did we have a QR card? Nope. Had we printed them sooner we could have made our first contact and had the ability to at least speak with her about the idea and learn of her thoughts about the prospect of being a research subject. We are familiar enough with the barback to hold a conversation without coming across as insane (inane?) Well, we didn't have a card, we avoided the subject and did nothing aside from developing the thoughts which bring us down. Fuck. Whatever. We were there yet again in her lovely presence and dreaming of wrapping her in a seamstress tape over and over. Oy. That sounds twisted. You know what we mean. Fuck, again. Now that the DP splash has been published and invitation QR cards are (finally) being printed, perhaps we can distribute a few and possibly rise above the darkness. There are no guarantees, of course, but at least we can send a tad bit of words to some individuals and gage their reactions. We are expecting either nothing or backlash, but whatever. This is the largest step taken in more than two years. Here we shall sit (as usual) and await some sort of contact from prospective subjects. At least we will be in the office with something out there in the world. That is a good feeling provided the whole thing does not go south at the first sign of interest. There must be a good amount of conversation and explanation before anything develops, and if/when that happens we will report here. We cannot publish findings, images, or any type of information regarding the process, but of course the simplest of news can be slapped onto the index. There are no links in that direction either. This is a part of the anonymous nature of such a project. We shall see... And soon. We have no doubt there are more examples of that which we seek, and they will come strolling by in the near future -- perhaps similar to the unbelievably shapely gazelle pictured below. For fuck's sake... Just look at her arms. Unreal. The tapers we NEED to measure So... Honestly, this may be the only chance we have. Every other fucking endeavor has gone south, in one way or another and for one reason or another. If we let this thing go... Dirt. You know. We've retreaded this shit for years. Well, here it is. The glaring fact is (once again) we have placed ourselves neatly within this hell of a space -- this hole in the world. We created it out of nothingness and crafted the surroundings for our needs, and realizing there is but one path out has been like a massive v-shaped thoroughfare in which the narrowing lines represent our outlook. The point of it? The point, in the end. The end point is the point. Wait. What? Who knows. We are slowly losing our minds and any attempt at an explanation seems futile. Suffice to say our shit is drawing closer -- both on the sides and in our minds -- and the QR cards had better bring something. Anything. Maybe just a nice slap across the face. Yep. Whatever the fuck, it is coming. The image above is quite similar to the woman by the window. Yes, we realize that due to the nature of that image her dimensions are all skewed and difficult to imagine, but still, she is similar. Either she is tall, or she desperately needs to start eating more. Hee! Um, yeah. She is thin, but not to the point of looking unhealthy, just thin, and still displaying muscle tone and definition. Do you see? The numbers could tell exactly how she looks -- mathematically -- and a subsequent comparison to a woman with a less slender build would show the disparity in attractiveness. Numbers, damn it. The numbers will dictate, identify, quantify, and clarify all that we are hoping to know. And we just need to get the fucking thing started. Are we deviant? Well, not so much when one considers all there is in the world. We are curious, and that curiosity has become an obsession, and maybe that obsession can yield results which can be explained clearly. Too much use of the word 'maybe'. Hmm... Maybe. Below is yet another image of Julianne, and you can see that she is not as slender as the woman above, yet still showing off definition. Why? Ugh. Why, indeed. We would love to put all of this shit together and make some semblance of a study, and then a table of data. Hundreds of measurements followed by (likely) a haphazard analysis of the two women. We just don't know if any of it will make sense, but we need to try. Height? Simple. Weight? Equally simple. The rest? Not simple, and a set of numbers which will require quite a commitment from the subject. Oy. We are all over the map, as usual, but fuck it. We have no choice anymore. Disparity we MUST record Julianne is a prime example because she is not nearly as slender as some of the insane images which have graced this index throughout the last two years, but still she is unbelievably attractive, and according to our research this is universally agreed upon. Some of the other women are extremely tall and thin, and that body type may not receive the same type of appreciation. It may be a niche and/or some sort of fetish (height). We have no opinion as far as those two facets are concerned. We simply wish to make comparisons from one to the next. The last order of business from this site is to tell others what to think. The single most subjective topic in this world is physical beauty, and arguing the point... Well, we may as well just pound sand on the beach. So... The woman who walked by the Elixir window was unlike Julianne in that she was taller and obviously not in a retouched digital image. Seeing her in person was both a tremendous push toward the obsession and another measure of distance developing between us and the same. We simply cannot imagine being near enough to communicate nor measure. And the issues are many... Well, you know. The closeness involved will be dramatic and those circumstances are likely going to be arduous. We dread and anticipate simultaneously. We watched her briefly and the thought of that level of involvement became petrifying. Julianne is a model and doubtless accustomed to scrutiny, however a random beauty from everyday life may not be easily placed into the lens and recorded physically without misgivings. Where are we going with this, and why have we said the same thing in so many different ways? Fucking hell, who knows. We are losing it -- that cannot be successfully contradicted -- and the time which has passed since losing Her is becoming one giant blur. We do not know how to conduct ourselves within this index any other way. This is it, and this is all we have. So... Suck it up. The bearing surface, the void of information, the air, the blood, the fall, and the distance need to combine and find cohesion soon. We are desperate to the point of the situation becoming dangerous. Not for the site, mind you, but for us. Enter the danger, leave the security." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
The Elixir and the Void Mature content No. 30 Published March 26th, 2017 10:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries "So... We recently spent a bit of time in San Francisco for a small event, and that means we were in the presence of those on the streets. The event was pleasant -- good people, a few drinks, and some speeches. On the outside it appeared as if everything was fine for us, but oh my... The mental images and difficulties were swirling around within like always. Of course! Why the fuck not? Another day gazing at the (absent) numbers and straining to remain upright while in public. They were there, too. The forms which bring us to a vastly different place. The slide downward began almost immediately as we exited the vehicle and strolled toward the venue. All bad. Ugh. We moved along the street and into the bar (which was unbelievably beautiful, restored to its Victorian glory) where the event was to take place. After ordering we ventured back to the sidewalk to look at the lovely exterior paint and century-and-a-half old windows, and naturally ran straight into a gorgeous form in heels. She paid no attention to the onlookers and glided right on by. We stood, flabbergasted, and immediately began to assemble the words which appear here. The picture of her went by quickly but proceeded to cement itself within us -- and here we are yet again. Alone, in pain, and wondering how much longer we can continue this project with no supporters and no positive outlook. The idea arose to create business cards which carry a QR that would direct prospective interests to a splash. Once there, they would see what we are attempting -- in a completely safe and anonymous manner -- and find contact information. So far, this is the best fucking plan we have had throughout the past two years. We cannot imagine any other method for soliciting anyone to look in our direction. Sound good? Who the fuck knows, but at this late date, and considering how close we have become to giving up on everything, it may be worth a shot. What is the worst outcome? Nothing happens. That is fine... Crippling, but fine. No harm whatsoever to anyone aside from ourselves. And since we are already suffering to no end, the fact remains that the damage could be minimal, and something to which we are accustomed in fucking spades. Perhaps we need to try. Hmm. The more time we spend crammed into this void of information the less likely we will survive at all. Fuck. Amy has the numbers... Yet we do not know of them So... As the early afternoon went on, there were others. We did our best to maintain a social face and demeanor, but as usual we spiraled into that familiar hole caused by not knowing... Not seeing... Not able to quantify. There was no possibility of any study whatsoever, and being in mind of this from the outset did not matter, yet again. We just stood, gazing when possible, and dreaming of the work we feel may bring us up out of the dirt. It can, and might. We just need to get the fucking word out there and see what develops. Reasonable? Who knows. Through the window we looked upon beauty. She crossed the street and walked by the establishment -- all business -- and was dressed to the fucking nines. Her height was exaggerated by heels and a long neck, and her breasts were strained to maintain their position within her sweater. The difference between her chest and midsection below was enough to cause enormous harm within us. As she moved past, we could see slender, defined arms, fingers which screamed at us, and gorgeous chestnut hair bouncing on and off her back. The image was incredible to see. She was quite the gazelle, and with the form of dreams. She glided beyond our vision as we returned to the table, and we then proceeded to fall into a crack in the fucking earth. Yes, she had that sort of effect upon us in mere moments. Good god, why did we have to see? Why could we not pay attention to those inside the bar and not put ourselves through the pain yet again? Fucking hell, why? Now we must sit here and type with her beauty and form spinning us in circles. This type of encounter is going to kill us if we do not change something. We are certain that the endless bellyaching on this index will be ignored soon, and we will be left even more alone. Nice, right? 'Fucking do something.' Well, this is where we reside now... Between the pain of not realizing the obsession, and the difficulty and fear inherent in taking a step. Would it be a step forward or back? We cannot know. The whole thing may prove to be a waste of time and effort. At least remaining where we are now is safe, if cramped. To broaden could be hurtful. Not to others, just toward ourselves. There is no denying the idea that the QR cards could lead to something. There is also no denying the possibility that we could come across as deranged. And if we were not in such dire circumstances, that statement would be funny. Heh. The ratio which began the obsession So... Upon leaving the venue in SF, we ventured nearer to home and lo and behold, the fucking barback was there Remember her? We do. And naturally she was working and looking gorgeous as ever. Did we have a QR card? Nope. Had we printed them sooner we could have made our first contact and had the ability to at least speak with her about the idea and learn of her thoughts about the prospect of being a research subject. We are familiar enough with the barback to hold a conversation without coming across as insane (inane?) Well, we didn't have a card, we avoided the subject and did nothing aside from developing the thoughts which bring us down. Fuck. Whatever. We were there yet again in her lovely presence and dreaming of wrapping her in a seamstress tape over and over. Oy. That sounds twisted. You know what we mean. Fuck, again. Now that the DP splash has been published and invitation QR cards are (finally) being printed, perhaps we can distribute a few and possibly rise above the darkness. There are no guarantees, of course, but at least we can send a tad bit of words to some individuals and gage their reactions. We are expecting either nothing or backlash, but whatever. This is the largest step taken in more than two years. Here we shall sit (as usual) and await some sort of contact from prospective subjects. At least we will be in the office with something out there in the world. That is a good feeling provided the whole thing does not go south at the first sign of interest. There must be a good amount of conversation and explanation before anything develops, and if/when that happens we will report here. We cannot publish findings, images, or any type of information regarding the process, but of course the simplest of news can be slapped onto the index. There are no links in that direction either. This is a part of the anonymous nature of such a project. We shall see... And soon. We have no doubt there are more examples of that which we seek, and they will come strolling by in the near future -- perhaps similar to the unbelievably shapely gazelle pictured below. For fuck's sake... Just look at her arms. Unreal. The tapers we NEED to measure So... Honestly, this may be the only chance we have. Every other fucking endeavor has gone south, in one way or another and for one reason or another. If we let this thing go... Dirt. You know. We've retreaded this shit for years. Well, here it is. The glaring fact is (once again) we have placed ourselves neatly within this hell of a space -- this hole in the world. We created it out of nothingness and crafted the surroundings for our needs, and realizing there is but one path out has been like a massive v-shaped thoroughfare in which the narrowing lines represent our outlook. The point of it? The point, in the end. The end point is the point. Wait. What? Who knows. We are slowly losing our minds and any attempt at an explanation seems futile. Suffice to say our shit is drawing closer -- both on the sides and in our minds -- and the QR cards had better bring something. Anything. Maybe just a nice slap across the face. Yep. Whatever the fuck, it is coming. The image above is quite similar to the woman by the window. Yes, we realize that due to the nature of that image her dimensions are all skewed and difficult to imagine, but still, she is similar. Either she is tall, or she desperately needs to start eating more. Hee! Um, yeah. She is thin, but not to the point of looking unhealthy, just thin, and still displaying muscle tone and definition. Do you see? The numbers could tell exactly how she looks -- mathematically -- and a subsequent comparison to a woman with a less slender build would show the disparity in attractiveness. Numbers, damn it. The numbers will dictate, identify, quantify, and clarify all that we are hoping to know. And we just need to get the fucking thing started. Are we deviant? Well, not so much when one considers all there is in the world. We are curious, and that curiosity has become an obsession, and maybe that obsession can yield results which can be explained clearly. Too much use of the word 'maybe'. Hmm... Maybe. Below is yet another image of Julianne, and you can see that she is not as slender as the woman above, yet still showing off definition. Why? Ugh. Why, indeed. We would love to put all of this shit together and make some semblance of a study, and then a table of data. Hundreds of measurements followed by (likely) a haphazard analysis of the two women. We just don't know if any of it will make sense, but we need to try. Height? Simple. Weight? Equally simple. The rest? Not simple, and a set of numbers which will require quite a commitment from the subject. Oy. We are all over the map, as usual, but fuck it. We have no choice anymore. Disparity we MUST record Julianne is a prime example because she is not nearly as slender as some of the insane images which have graced this index throughout the last two years, but still she is unbelievably attractive, and according to our research this is universally agreed upon. Some of the other women are extremely tall and thin, and that body type may not receive the same type of appreciation. It may be a niche and/or some sort of fetish (height). We have no opinion as far as those two facets are concerned. We simply wish to make comparisons from one to the next. The last order of business from this site is to tell others what to think. The single most subjective topic in this world is physical beauty, and arguing the point... Well, we may as well just pound sand on the beach. So... The woman who walked by the Elixir window was unlike Julianne in that she was taller and obviously not in a retouched digital image. Seeing her in person was both a tremendous push toward the obsession and another measure of distance developing between us and the same. We simply cannot imagine being near enough to communicate nor measure. And the issues are many... Well, you know. The closeness involved will be dramatic and those circumstances are likely going to be arduous. We dread and anticipate simultaneously. We watched her briefly and the thought of that level of involvement became petrifying. Julianne is a model and doubtless accustomed to scrutiny, however a random beauty from everyday life may not be easily placed into the lens and recorded physically without misgivings. Where are we going with this, and why have we said the same thing in so many different ways? Fucking hell, who knows. We are losing it -- that cannot be successfully contradicted -- and the time which has passed since losing Her is becoming one giant blur. We do not know how to conduct ourselves within this index any other way. This is it, and this is all we have. So... Suck it up. The bearing surface, the void of information, the air, the blood, the fall, and the distance need to combine and find cohesion soon. We are desperate to the point of the situation becoming dangerous. Not for the site, mind you, but for us. Enter the danger, leave the security."
The Elixir and the Void
Mature content No. 30 Published March 26th, 2017 10:33am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"So... We recently spent a bit of time in San Francisco for a small event, and that means we were in the presence of those on the streets. The event was pleasant -- good people, a few drinks, and some speeches. On the outside it appeared as if everything was fine for us, but oh my... The mental images and difficulties were swirling around within like always. Of course! Why the fuck not? Another day gazing at the (absent) numbers and straining to remain upright while in public. They were there, too. The forms which bring us to a vastly different place. The slide downward began almost immediately as we exited the vehicle and strolled toward the venue. All bad. Ugh. We moved along the street and into the bar (which was unbelievably beautiful, restored to its Victorian glory) where the event was to take place. After ordering we ventured back to the sidewalk to look at the lovely exterior paint and century-and-a-half old windows, and naturally ran straight into a gorgeous form in heels. She paid no attention to the onlookers and glided right on by. We stood, flabbergasted, and immediately began to assemble the words which appear here. The picture of her went by quickly but proceeded to cement itself within us -- and here we are yet again. Alone, in pain, and wondering how much longer we can continue this project with no supporters and no positive outlook. The idea arose to create business cards which carry a QR that would direct prospective interests to a splash. Once there, they would see what we are attempting -- in a completely safe and anonymous manner -- and find contact information. So far, this is the best fucking plan we have had throughout the past two years. We cannot imagine any other method for soliciting anyone to look in our direction. Sound good? Who the fuck knows, but at this late date, and considering how close we have become to giving up on everything, it may be worth a shot. What is the worst outcome? Nothing happens. That is fine... Crippling, but fine. No harm whatsoever to anyone aside from ourselves. And since we are already suffering to no end, the fact remains that the damage could be minimal, and something to which we are accustomed in fucking spades. Perhaps we need to try. Hmm. The more time we spend crammed into this void of information the less likely we will survive at all. Fuck.
Amy has the numbers... Yet we do not know of them
So... As the early afternoon went on, there were others. We did our best to maintain a social face and demeanor, but as usual we spiraled into that familiar hole caused by not knowing... Not seeing... Not able to quantify. There was no possibility of any study whatsoever, and being in mind of this from the outset did not matter, yet again. We just stood, gazing when possible, and dreaming of the work we feel may bring us up out of the dirt. It can, and might. We just need to get the fucking word out there and see what develops. Reasonable? Who knows. Through the window we looked upon beauty. She crossed the street and walked by the establishment -- all business -- and was dressed to the fucking nines. Her height was exaggerated by heels and a long neck, and her breasts were strained to maintain their position within her sweater. The difference between her chest and midsection below was enough to cause enormous harm within us. As she moved past, we could see slender, defined arms, fingers which screamed at us, and gorgeous chestnut hair bouncing on and off her back. The image was incredible to see. She was quite the gazelle, and with the form of dreams. She glided beyond our vision as we returned to the table, and we then proceeded to fall into a crack in the fucking earth. Yes, she had that sort of effect upon us in mere moments. Good god, why did we have to see? Why could we not pay attention to those inside the bar and not put ourselves through the pain yet again? Fucking hell, why? Now we must sit here and type with her beauty and form spinning us in circles. This type of encounter is going to kill us if we do not change something. We are certain that the endless bellyaching on this index will be ignored soon, and we will be left even more alone. Nice, right? 'Fucking do something.' Well, this is where we reside now... Between the pain of not realizing the obsession, and the difficulty and fear inherent in taking a step. Would it be a step forward or back? We cannot know. The whole thing may prove to be a waste of time and effort. At least remaining where we are now is safe, if cramped. To broaden could be hurtful. Not to others, just toward ourselves. There is no denying the idea that the QR cards could lead to something. There is also no denying the possibility that we could come across as deranged. And if we were not in such dire circumstances, that statement would be funny. Heh.
The ratio which began the obsession
So... Upon leaving the venue in SF, we ventured nearer to home and lo and behold, the fucking barback was there Remember her? We do. And naturally she was working and looking gorgeous as ever. Did we have a QR card? Nope. Had we printed them sooner we could have made our first contact and had the ability to at least speak with her about the idea and learn of her thoughts about the prospect of being a research subject. We are familiar enough with the barback to hold a conversation without coming across as insane (inane?) Well, we didn't have a card, we avoided the subject and did nothing aside from developing the thoughts which bring us down. Fuck. Whatever. We were there yet again in her lovely presence and dreaming of wrapping her in a seamstress tape over and over. Oy. That sounds twisted. You know what we mean. Fuck, again. Now that the DP splash has been published and invitation QR cards are (finally) being printed, perhaps we can distribute a few and possibly rise above the darkness. There are no guarantees, of course, but at least we can send a tad bit of words to some individuals and gage their reactions. We are expecting either nothing or backlash, but whatever. This is the largest step taken in more than two years. Here we shall sit (as usual) and await some sort of contact from prospective subjects. At least we will be in the office with something out there in the world. That is a good feeling provided the whole thing does not go south at the first sign of interest. There must be a good amount of conversation and explanation before anything develops, and if/when that happens we will report here. We cannot publish findings, images, or any type of information regarding the process, but of course the simplest of news can be slapped onto the index. There are no links in that direction either. This is a part of the anonymous nature of such a project. We shall see... And soon. We have no doubt there are more examples of that which we seek, and they will come strolling by in the near future -- perhaps similar to the unbelievably shapely gazelle pictured below. For fuck's sake... Just look at her arms. Unreal.
The tapers we NEED to measure
So... Honestly, this may be the only chance we have. Every other fucking endeavor has gone south, in one way or another and for one reason or another. If we let this thing go... Dirt. You know. We've retreaded this shit for years. Well, here it is. The glaring fact is (once again) we have placed ourselves neatly within this hell of a space -- this hole in the world. We created it out of nothingness and crafted the surroundings for our needs, and realizing there is but one path out has been like a massive v-shaped thoroughfare in which the narrowing lines represent our outlook. The point of it? The point, in the end. The end point is the point. Wait. What? Who knows. We are slowly losing our minds and any attempt at an explanation seems futile. Suffice to say our shit is drawing closer -- both on the sides and in our minds -- and the QR cards had better bring something. Anything. Maybe just a nice slap across the face. Yep. Whatever the fuck, it is coming. The image above is quite similar to the woman by the window. Yes, we realize that due to the nature of that image her dimensions are all skewed and difficult to imagine, but still, she is similar. Either she is tall, or she desperately needs to start eating more. Hee! Um, yeah. She is thin, but not to the point of looking unhealthy, just thin, and still displaying muscle tone and definition. Do you see? The numbers could tell exactly how she looks -- mathematically -- and a subsequent comparison to a woman with a less slender build would show the disparity in attractiveness. Numbers, damn it. The numbers will dictate, identify, quantify, and clarify all that we are hoping to know. And we just need to get the fucking thing started. Are we deviant? Well, not so much when one considers all there is in the world. We are curious, and that curiosity has become an obsession, and maybe that obsession can yield results which can be explained clearly. Too much use of the word 'maybe'. Hmm... Maybe. Below is yet another image of Julianne, and you can see that she is not as slender as the woman above, yet still showing off definition. Why? Ugh. Why, indeed. We would love to put all of this shit together and make some semblance of a study, and then a table of data. Hundreds of measurements followed by (likely) a haphazard analysis of the two women. We just don't know if any of it will make sense, but we need to try. Height? Simple. Weight? Equally simple. The rest? Not simple, and a set of numbers which will require quite a commitment from the subject. Oy. We are all over the map, as usual, but fuck it. We have no choice anymore.
Disparity we MUST record
Julianne is a prime example because she is not nearly as slender as some of the insane images which have graced this index throughout the last two years, but still she is unbelievably attractive, and according to our research this is universally agreed upon. Some of the other women are extremely tall and thin, and that body type may not receive the same type of appreciation. It may be a niche and/or some sort of fetish (height). We have no opinion as far as those two facets are concerned. We simply wish to make comparisons from one to the next. The last order of business from this site is to tell others what to think. The single most subjective topic in this world is physical beauty, and arguing the point... Well, we may as well just pound sand on the beach. So... The woman who walked by the Elixir window was unlike Julianne in that she was taller and obviously not in a retouched digital image. Seeing her in person was both a tremendous push toward the obsession and another measure of distance developing between us and the same. We simply cannot imagine being near enough to communicate nor measure. And the issues are many... Well, you know. The closeness involved will be dramatic and those circumstances are likely going to be arduous. We dread and anticipate simultaneously. We watched her briefly and the thought of that level of involvement became petrifying. Julianne is a model and doubtless accustomed to scrutiny, however a random beauty from everyday life may not be easily placed into the lens and recorded physically without misgivings. Where are we going with this, and why have we said the same thing in so many different ways? Fucking hell, who knows. We are losing it -- that cannot be successfully contradicted -- and the time which has passed since losing Her is becoming one giant blur. We do not know how to conduct ourselves within this index any other way. This is it, and this is all we have. So... Suck it up. The bearing surface, the void of information, the air, the blood, the fall, and the distance need to combine and find cohesion soon. We are desperate to the point of the situation becoming dangerous. Not for the site, mind you, but for us. Enter the danger, leave the security."
Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
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