To push oneself has a negative connotation. If you required pushing, then you probably didn't want to do it, why would it have been required to exert addition force otherwise? When tasks come simply, without question or resistance, we see it as positive, handled without a worry or stress, without a push.
It follows the philosophy of the path of least resistance. However, sometimes, a mere nudge is all a river requires to stretch into a new avenue, and flow farther, faster, than ever before.

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This week we check back on Reign and Sinder, seeing how he will hold up for a party of ponies all packing their puckers with pudding... Perhaps there is some way to persuade him out of this predicament? Possibly.

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We have a bit of a month of pony going on, there will be pony uploads for almost the entire month~. And today we start up a new story, we are heading back to the Orchard, and you know it gets wild and filthy there. You have been warned~.

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We come to the conclusion of the Orchard ad chronicle today and it is time to get intimate. Story linked down below.

What awaits in the past will stay there forever, only your perception of it can change. And only the effects its ripples have on the future, is what you can better.

Happy Midsummer~.

How does the custodian with thumbs for fingers pick her nose? Having 4 extra maneuverable digits compared to her associates, their fine motoric is splendid and articulate. Through some practice they overshoot the limits of their coworkers and deliver results with accuracy and precision. Through this obscene altercation of biology, they grasp further. Though some tasks are made difficult.
The custodian with thumbs for fingers, have wide nostrils.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Whatever comes after is something I consider, after, there always seems to be an after. After this, after that, few things that are not n after are ever brought up, and when they are it is but a brief window. Everything leaves all thoughts for after, but in doing so, miss out on their afterthought.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I have heard the story of the ship of theseus: a vessel you gradually replace, bit by bit, until none of the original remain. Then if you took all the discarded parts and assembled those into a ship, which is the true ship?
I have also heard this likened to the the body of living creature; if each cell is gradually replaced along a person's life, what remains of them at the end is not a separate entity from what they began as. Or even what were were just a few months ago.

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Is art, without observer? Is, any work, without a beneficiary? Is there creation, without a creator?

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For all the planning, for all the emphasis, for all the time laid down to perfect a single moment, that moment as all others will pass. I can tell myself that it was different, I can value that one moment higher than a hundred others. And perhaps, at certain times, I should.
At other times, I will put the weight towards who those moments were spent with, rather than what I was doing.

Happy birthday to me.

Happy Filthy Friday to you~.

Relapse. Rejuvenating a behavior you had long since hoped would be buried in your footprints. Have you stepped back on yourself? Tread ground you have been at before, knowing there is no grace hidden in that path? Or are your steps merely betraying you, likening one mistake to another, one fall for the next? What if they represented the same events? A life is riddled with woe, and we remain as the one we always are, an mistake in the present, is the same as the mistakes of the past.

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Whatever horrors come our way we overcome them. We have far better horrors than that, nature continues to surprise us with the terror and dread that is out there, but the human mind has reached beyond it, it is from the human mind that the term nature and horror even exist. We have defined the tools, and thus we determine what scares us.

Happy Filthy Friday~.
Might be seeing some pony content next week.

What wonders awaits us, none. As simple as that, for nothing waits for those walking, all that is we have now, and nothing more can be created from nothing. Withing ourselves, it is what we think that becomes a reality, how we act and how we portray ourselves is what matters for the world. If you strive to be responsible, then you will forever strive.
You are what you are, and all that matters is what you are now. For what you are now, you will be for the rest of your life.

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Time goes by too quickly, and time speeds by to fast, while I sit back into my couch and pack on cushion ass.
Light now withdrawing, and nights growing... roaming, that could have been anything.
You just, have to keep out of its sight.
As long as you stay moving, you fade from its bright. So do not just stand there, with robe unveiled, while there is lot else worth exploring.

Happy nightmare night~.

Space is a curious thing, the larger something is, the harder it is to see it, the smaller something is, the more keen we are to see it, and noting every detail we can find.
Though perhaps that is a reductive way to look at it. Were we to change perspectives, and say "Experience" instead of seeing... Then the larger something is, the harder it is to experience as a whole. And the small details we do catch, we take care to experience and savour.

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Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

How easy our mind shifts from one to the next, even what we appreciate makes up not but a fraction of all that goes on within us, connections crafted and paths forged, walkways ready for us to tread them, and yet we can only strive so far away from the main road.
Are the additional thoughts wasted effort? Or what makes us living?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I sit on a beach, a bit mellow and sad,
when out from a burrow, scuttles a crab.
The shelled critter stares, across the sand it zooms,
it hasn't seen anyone, beset by this gloom.
It is there for a moment, then fades out of sight,
The shelled critter has no input, on my weary plight.
When out from my sorrow, bemused and, glad?
I sit on the beach, an monument to a crab.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Almost a year ago now, I took part in the Lustful Lent Pony Artpack, and today I'll start posting the story submitted for it. It has been a lot of fun, and I am eager to work with them more~.

At times, when walking down the road of life, I see some in trouble. I see those with legs in poor condition, their pace rickety as their osseotissue clockwork grinds ever onward. Some can be helped. Yet the road is wide. Densely populated. Perhaps I am just scared.

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There is so much to do, and yet I choose to do nothing. It pains me not to work, and yet I leave it be. Days are fallen leaves, and autumn's clutches firm. Auburn crumbles through my fingers, the dust of time's allure.
Yet staring down will only fill the mind with a carpet of tree's veil, but looking up gives me a chance, to catch one by the tail.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

How much longer will it take to complete this task?
How often do I think about that? How often is the question not, what am I doing? Why am I doing it? But: When am I done?
Yet, sometimes, for very few tasks, this melts away. Everything revolves around the what, how, and why. And in those rare moments, if the question of when comes up... the answer is the same: There is no after, there is only this.

Happy Filthy Friday~, and Happy Darkest night.

A snake coils around the word.
It has laid continents and oceans under its grasp, wading through the dirt on its quest.
It sees something rise up over the horizon, a prey befitting its hunger.
It strikes.
It feasts.
It keeps feasting.
It moves forwards, filling its mouth, yet there is always more ahead.
It continues.
It continues for an indefinite amount of time. A symbol of infinity.
If infinity has no end, and this one moment has no end, is infinity, nought but one moment long.

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