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I was a regional warhammer 40k champion at about the age of 11/12. Took my Dark Angels all the way down to some midlands shithole exhibition centre to partake in 'Games Day'. I won my games against an assortment of permavirgin twentysomethings. However, the simplistic scoring system of the finals of one kill equals one point meant that the guy who was facing off against some idiot's massive and shit Imperial Guard army stormed to victory. Even if I'd wiped out all of my Space Marine opponents to the last man, which I very nearly did, I couldn't have won the championship. The previous years runners up had been given replica full sized 'power daggers'. That year I was given a gold plastic bolt gun badge. Pricks. I realised I was just a public relations pawn in the corporate tabletop gaming world. Within a year I was reading Guy Debord, the Hi-tecs had been replaced by doc martens, and I was being bum raped in a squat to the sound of Heliosphan. Watmm became my Night Porter.

 

Did get myself and marines into an action shot in White Dwarf though.

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I once got so high that I went streaking out in the open. My friend called the cops and I basically woke up in a hospital bed with my parents there. There were scratches all over my body from running through thorn bushes and a creek. I barely remember doing this.

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I was a regional warhammer 40k champion at about the age of 11/12. Took my Dark Angels all the way down to some midlands shithole exhibition centre to partake in 'Games Day'. I won my games against an assortment of permavirgin twentysomethings. However, the simplistic scoring system of the finals of one kill equals one point meant that the guy who was facing off against some idiot's massive and shit Imperial Guard army stormed to victory. Even if I'd wiped out all of my Space Marine opponents to the last man, which I very nearly did, I couldn't have won the championship. The previous years runners up had been given replica full sized 'power daggers'. That year I was given a gold plastic bolt gun badge. Pricks. I realised I was just a public relations pawn in the corporate tabletop gaming world. Within a year I was reading Guy Debord, the Hi-tecs had been replaced by doc martens, and I was being bum raped in a squat to the sound of Heliosphan. Watmm became my Night Porter.

 

Did get myself and marines into an action shot in White Dwarf though.

 

Lol amazing.

 

I was once a very successful boy soprano. I was one of the magic boy genies in a production of the magic flute that featured 4 winners of the new York metropolitan opera competition.

 

I had to wear glitter in my hair. I would find bits of glitter on my pillow for months afterwards.

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Some very long time ago, a bunch of very small particles formed, which turned into big fiery balls. Some of the balls exploded and jizzed their innards all over the place. Eventually some of those innards turned into bipedal apes who think they're better than everything and everyone around them. And for the briefest time, a fraction of the starstuff is arranged in such a way that I am one of those apes.

 

One of the biggest fans of my music was a campus dj in the US around 2008.

 

In 1st grade, I got first prize in a city wide competition to draw a famous fictional cat by a writer of that city. I think the prize was 3 free books of choice and a diploma or some shit.

 

I once chugged a bottle of vodka and eventually fell asleep in a pile of snow in midwinter, no jacket. The police picked me up before I froze to death and I woke up to puke my guts out the remainder of the night. I had no recollection of anything prior to waking up but they told me about it.

 

When I was 18 I got a 2 year parole for breaking a girls telephone at a bar. It was pretty terrifying to sit in the court room, but it got me to stop being a drunken idiot at bars.

 

I have out of body experiences almost every night. I used to practice it in my mid-teens, for quite long before any success, but as I stopped they eventually became spontaneous and involuntary. They often begin akin to a night terror, in which my throat feels like it's held, strangled or penetrated, and if I don't fight it I'm pulled out. The throat feeling has been extremely scary to deal with, as it can be lingering for a while as I drift into unconsciousness, and without warning become intense, even horrific. I've learned to fear it less, which is not easy when you're in such a primal state, but that's why the out of body experiences happen so often these nights. I'm undecided on their nature, as in whether they are actual experiences or hallucinatory brain trips. Their vividity satisfy the "being real" criteria but I'm aware the brain is quite powerful. Nevertheless they're mostly fun as shit.

 

I am extremely synaesthetic. If you've read up on it and wonder which kind, it's all of them. This has probably been the most mystifying and important aspect of my life. The synaesthetic reaction, which I privately call a sensory experience, has various ranges of intensity, but many times not only mirrors the stimuli but encompasses it to the point that I sometimes don't know which is manifesting the other. It is highly fine-tuned. I discovered what it was in my teens and "developed" an awareness of what was happening in my mind in various situations, but have begun to remember sensory experiences from when I was very little. There may be complex and new combinations of sensory reactions that are quite surprising, but most of them, the basic ones, don't change - rather, they return and appear in new places. Like life, it is both good and bad. It ranges from beautiful sensory caressing to a brutal and totally indifferent pounding of the senses. But the remarkable part of it is that there is a sense of consistency and logic to it, which makes it eerily truthful and trustworthy. It is a puzzle to solve at times - why does certain stimuli evoke a similar response to another, seemingly unrelated stimuli? It is like a second language to me, the only problem is that it's like nobody else speaks it. But it is so intimately connected with the actual "stuff" of the world that mostly, it doesn't matter.

 

Some of the descriptions of synaesthesia, like the number three tasting like chocolate and having the personality of a gaunt gentleman, is quite ridiculous to me because for there are no words for so many of the sensory experiences. There's no word in human language for the taste of the letter K, the taste and color combination of walking down the street in an industrial part of town, the sensory reaction to watching a documentary on the cold war. So it's its own language that I have to learn to speak with myself. There's a taste to getting something and a taste to not getting something. So I can investigate a certain synesthetic pattern, experiencing the sensory experience to its fullest - and then there will be a second sensory affiliation related to my understanding and point of view of it, of its place and relation with other patterns.

 

One phenomenon in particular is the most mystifying of all. I don't understand it at all, and really can't put it into words. But if I try to approximate it the best I can, what happens when I approach certain stimuli from a certain point of view or understanding is that there is a sort of recursive feedback loop, which collapses and creates a feeling of intense vertigo. There's nothing subtle about it, it is overwhelming. It's extremely interesting but can also be distracting and daunting.

 

The way I understand it so far is that the reaction comes from certain stimuli - certain visual stimuli, but the point of view is of all the stimuli put together. So basically it's the sensory experience of the awareness of all the possible sensory experiences put together. It's like the voice of nature or existance itself. So it's quite undiscerning - it can appear in any place because it's about all places put together. So there's an aspect of it that is beautiful and inviting, but not beautiful like a flower, rather beautiful like an atom or equation - like seeing beyond one's self. But it is at times so wholly inhuman that it seems wrong to even look at, because its nature is to be rather indifferent to human nature. It's like a machine, something with no mind. And I've had some mysterious experience of this sensory "place" as far as I can remember. I just wasn't aware of it, but these days I am able to look directly in the face of it, and it's much like staring in the face of the abyss - it stares back into me. So it's fun, scary, intriguing - I love it sometimes, hate it other times. But I have gotten more control over it than in the past - at one time I was certain I was completely insane, because I was so fascinated and it felt so truthful that I couldn't look away, but it was scary made me question my ability to function normally. It still makes me feel daft. But I adore mysteries, and mostly it feels like a gift to be able to explore one's mind to such an unusual degree.

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i have a set of three moles/freckles in a triangular shape on each arm and they mirror each other almost perfectly

i have a circle of freckles on my left arm :ok:

 

 

i have a line. together we are the deathly hallows.

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I got to level twenty-one in forty hours on SKYRIM.

 

My friend went to the Skyrim midnight release on Thurday night. Started playing it as soon as he got home and literally didn't stop until Sunday night. No sleep at all, he was so fucking out of it.

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i have a set of three moles/freckles in a triangular shape on each arm and they mirror each other almost perfectly

 

 

 

I have a set of five mole/freckles on my left shoulder that make a five pointed star!!!!!!

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i have a set of three moles/freckles in a triangular shape on each arm and they mirror each other almost perfectly

 

 

 

I have a set of five mole/freckles on my left shoulder that make a five pointed star!!!!!!

youre married to mike p though so freckles can shove it.

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