AnOublietteofThought

where wisps of words wander in aimless stillness

I watched Disclosure Day tonight. I have multiple thoughts on it. For the most part, I think it was done well. I do wish the raindrop styled crafts had the extensive bays showing in the way that they should have. It was also never the Greys in those particular crafts in my dreams.

The abduction sequence hit somewhat close to home. My first orgasm (I didn't know that's what it was at the time.) was in a water tank while being experimented upon/observed. A school bully three or four years older than myself was there, too. He treated me very different after that dream. It was a terrifying dream. This was in the 80s.

I have done a lot of research over the years in an effort to understand both my experiences and my brain better. I've had them since early childhood memory. Of the multiple MUFON investigators I was interviewed by, I'm especially appreciative of one whose specific word-choice presented me with informative possibility I wasn't aware of at the time. Our brains are curious creatures.

I will say that the part with her childhood home had me tearing up. Again, similar but different reasons. I think they pulled in just enough to give a nod towards interviews, most likely while also keeping it differentiated. I do like the empathy map that they chose to take, but I would say that my personal dream experiences do not line up with that. At least not with the creatures that look like that. I do not enjoy dreaming of the Greys, and never have since childhood. In my dreams, they are some of the coldest, experimental, non-empathetic creatures I have ever experienced. I would say they are everything that scientists of today who dissect and experiment on animals wish they could be. They are definitely not the empathetic ones. That part of the film does disturb me.

That is my thoughts. It is just a movie after all. What an intriguing storyline to try and showcase empathy. I do appreciate certain elements of the movie. Tiny nods that might go unnoticed, kind of like ET being a plant. I really like that aspect. I need to watch it again as an adult. The vast majority of humans deeply underestimate the intelligence, empathy, consciousness, and communicative skills of plants just on our own planet. Kind of like how we underestimate everything other than ourselves, and have a tendency to overestimate humans.

Gotta love ego.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I am sleepy. I have clearly forgotten the energy levels of a high-speed bundle of fearlessness. We have sequestered ourselves inside my bedroom and master bath. They are the most peaceful and kitten safe areas of my apartment. They are also a jungle gym of goth curiosity.

You may be saying to yourself that it is not like Phoebe can literally climb the walls. Did I mention the black and periwinkle acoustic fiberboards covering two walls? No? Let's just say that they will support the weight of a kitten, and I managed to catch her before she flung herself at the over-the-door potion shelf. I did not catch her before she got into a head-butting contest with the small jewelry box I keep my dainties, rings, cuffs, and industrials in. I'll sort the mess later. I'm just happy she didn't eat any of them.

We've gotten into a routine: eat, poop, go rabid, sleep. She did quickly escape into my studio when I was washing up her dish. I cut my temple on my bench-pin when trying to catch her before she got behind some drawers. So much for situational awareness. 🙄 She meeped when I ouched.

She is now letting me know when she wants more food as opposed to me scheduling it. She runs to the bedroom door and mouths a silent meow. If I don't respond, she'll run back to wherever I am and climb until we're face to face so that she can scream a single meow for my oblivious self to get with the program. She's still very good about waiting for me to get everything prepared, but tonight she did have thoughts she wanted to share about how slow I was moving. She still won't drink water beyond what I add to her food. Not atypical for her age.

She is fast, gentle, curious, and open to trust. Her claws are razor sharp, but she only uses them when lost in a hunting frenzy. She hasn't completely learned to groom herself yet, but she is doing her face. I started teaching her today with a microfiber makeup remover cloth. She fell asleep, purring.😹 I'll lightly dampen it tomorrow.

My sleeping is totally jacked. I don't really sleep much in the Winter, but Summer and early Autumn kick my ass. She wakes me as soon as I start to fade. Sometimes I manage to get her to curl up with the hypnotic double head-stroke. Other times it's a no go.

She is puuurrfect.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

This morning I know absolute joy and an immense sadness. The sadness comes from knowing Phoebe will be leaving my care on Saturday. I am going to miss her immensely, but more so I worry of the confusion it will cause her young mind. I imagine to place such trust in someone and have it yanked away again will do a number on her mentally. I must settle with knowing her forever family will be well vetted, and try not to think about the confusion. I will, of course, explain every to her, for animals understand far better than the majority of humans choose to acknowledge.

I have already fallen in love with her. I'd gladly completely turn my apartment upside down to make it more cat friendly if they'd just allow me to keep her. She has the feisty, loving, slightly crazy spirit of a calico, and I am all for her inquisitive exuberance. I have not had furry bundles of love in my home for a decade, and I definitely feel incomplete without them.

There is something magical about having the trust, love, and companionship of a top predator. When such a mind and instinct shows absolute devotion and vulnerability, a spirit connection is formed. No, she's not that as of yet, but the instinct is in her. She's extremely intelligent and observant. I plan on teaching her as much as I can from what I've learned from my other girls, observation, and past reading this week, and showering all the love I can muster upon her so that she goes into this next transition with as much confidence as possible.

I love cats. They are my soul mates. My spirit glows in their presence, and I feel like I could blind the world. Their purr is the most peaceful vibration imaginable. She is magnificent, and I am most fortunate to be blessed with her affection and trust this week. I will make damn sure that I've earned it.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

September 1st. The year has flown by. I suppose that is what happens as we get older. My birthday is a little over a month away. I always get reflective around this time of year. Who am I? Where am I going? What have I learned in the past year? Add a few dozen other questions at bare minimum, and that pretty much sums things up, I guess.

I wonder how many people can actually answer the question of who they are honestly. Perhaps in a generalization type scenario, but does that really get to the essence of who we are? Someone once confidently stated, and meant it as a compliment, that I become whoever the person in the room needs me to be. That has stuck with me for obvious reasons. My immediate gut reaction was that that was not true at all. Then I thought deeper about it.

I don't think it is so much that I become whoever the persons in the room need me to be as it is we are very multifaceted people, or at least I am. And different situations require different facets. I do like to make people comfortable because if a person is more comfortable with themselves they become more brave in pursuing their goals. I believe in lifting people up, but also being firm in my perspective of the truth. I believe in being buoyant and adaptable while standing firm. I'm pretty opinionated, but I do listen as well. I think that is more the key. Listening.

I no longer create as much as I have most of my adult life. Most of my life, really. It isn't that I don't want to, it is more that the state of the world and the expression of persons in my vicinity cause a deep lack of inspiration. That isn't exactly right either. I think that in some ways I find it pointless. Which I know isn't exactly true. Also, where I used to inspire others, I thought I just don't want to. Does this mean I have lost myself, or that I have evolved?

Perhaps, it means there are just too damn many hurdles these days and I no longer want to jump them. Or that I no longer have the energy to be jumping them. Maybe it means I just find the hurdle jumping completely ridiculous and I want no part of it. That is probably a big part of many things.

A conversation and a movie recently had me looking at when my grandparents passed away. As well as when one of my parents passed away. All five died of natural causes. One died slightly older than me. Two died younger than me. Two died about 15 years older than me, give or take. That has really got me to thinking.

The average life expectancy for a woman in the United States is 81.4 years old. That is roughly 26 years from now. 26 years passes in the blink of an eye. I want my golden years to be filled with joy and laughter. I want the type of communication that appears to be quite rare. Sometimes, I think I want the impossible. Other times, I think it's out there, but unavailable. Other times, I think I have such a mix of contradictions and likes that I'm a bit too complex for most people. Complex, yet extraordinarily simple.

I'm talking in circles without saying a lot. I'm working on a leap of faith, but I'm not sure that I have much faith in anything anymore. I'm not even sure what I think about faith in this moment. I'm certainly not talking in a religious sense. I respect people's right to have religious faith. I think it's a total crock of delusional shit, but stranger things have happened, I suppose. Faith in my fellow man, perhaps? Not really. Look at the world. Plus everybody's being groomed to be selfish as fuck, and I just find that very off-putting.

I guess I've circled back around to my dislike of people. I think dislike is a strong word there. It's doing too much work. Perhaps I should say I am unenamured. It is strange. Isn't it? To not really enjoy most people's company. It's not a lack of enjoyment exactly. It's boredom. Absolute boredom. Not that I'm particularly exciting. I am most certainly not. There's just a lack of inquisitiveness that crushes everything.

Am I changing because I'm changing, or am I changing because my environment is absolutely suffocating? At this point, I no longer know. I'm not completely sure I care. Perhaps I am just flummoxed with the doldrums, and it will eventually pass.

-— Before I could post this, I heard a kitten crying in the deep midnight hours. Upon opening the front door of my second story apartment, I was rushed by a tiny purrball. I've spent the last thirteen hours with her. Clearly abandoned, I'm very annoyed with whoever decided it a good idea to take a six week or so kitten, clearly raised indoors, whose eyes are still blue, and abandon her on a second floor in Summer heat that's over 100° each day. I would gladly introduce them to my claws for placing such innocence in harms way.

My landlord doesn't allow pets. I've been given until the weekend to find her a good home. I'm very glad he agreed. I swiftly acquired everything I needed even before asking. She's litter-trained, etc. She is stunning, both in personality, intelligence, and visuals. I am absolutely smitten. She could easily be my familiar's daughter. It is going to be rough to say goodbye, but I'm very happy to be blessed to keep her safe, and well-loved in the interim. I really can't stand to see kittens taken from their mothers when so young.

She is currently sound asleep, smiling, flopped over on her back and curled into the crook of my arm. She has completely claimed me as hers. I must admit to finding a long-missed peace in her presence. Perhaps, we needed each other in this moment. She needs me for safety and an abundance of love and transitional education and security, and I need her to remind me of what has been absent in my life. What will one day be again, and the absolute beauty of a trusting heart.

I do not yet know where her forever home may be, but I'm going to make damn sure she's placed in hands that will do all they can to ensure she goes to a caring, responsible home, and not just the home of someone who finds a long-haired, calico powderpuff the perfect want.

My familiar was a rescue who had to learn to survive before our paths crossed. My heart breaks as I imagine what that had to take while I observe this innocent cutie. She had to have been abandoned by one of my upstairs neighbors. It would behoove them for me not to find out which one.

Her little heart patters strong against my own as she holds my hand against her. I regret that she is also going to know the loss of me. I hate my landlord and manager a bit for the unnecessary pain their intolerant rules cause, but I will make sure she knows love and confidence, and I will hope she finds a forever home worthy of her magnificence.

I am truly blessed to know her. She is Phoebe GlimmerSoul — radiant, magical, and destined to share in the love of a home who will value her for the priceless gift of life that she is.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I should be heading to sleep on this last day of August. I want to, but I also want to write. I don't know what I want to write. I know that I don't want my notes to automatically hyperlink words that I write to something that I'm not linking it to. That makes me want to stop writing.

Today was not unexpected. There was both potential bad news and potential good news. I knew something along such lines would be coming. I was just unsure of what my response would be. There are times when I wonder if I am too understanding. It is a quality that I believe is very important to have, but it comes at a cost.

It is possible that it is a very positive thing and come January I am going to be extremely happy. It is also possible that I am just naive and too understanding. I think I've also had such a heavy dose of pragmatism invade my fairy tale mindset that maybe, just maybe, my ability to hope and believe is more than a little bit tarnished.

Perhaps, I have had too many curtains pulled back and have gotten to see what lay on the other side too often to still have the innocent, dreaming mindset I once had. Even while quite cynical. I really don't know anymore. I really don't know anymore...

I need to make a phone call tomorrow that I don't want to make. It reveals way too much of myself to persons that I don't particularly want to. It is a necessity, but I am digging my heels in hard. I have been for some time. I have tried to figure out why. Why am I so reluctant?

I think, perhaps, it is because when I got the opportunity to tell the only person in the world that it really had anything to do with, his response was...disappointing. I think that is often the case with such things. I am still glad that I told him. It was a regret I had carried for decades.

Tomorrow is different. Tomorrow I need to acknowledge it to strangers. If I'm being extremely honest with myself, I'm still debating whether or not I'm going to follow through. I recognize that I really do need to, but I do not want to. Who will win out? Need or want?

I probably need to want to give a damn. I think in general, part of me gives a damn way too much, and part of me could not give a damn at all. Such is the danger in accepting “reality.”

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I am...over it.

Now, not only do I have to contend with books, videos, blogs, emails, etc. being completely AI. The Wall Street Journal is publicly acknowledging that it allows its journalists to submit articles that are 100% AI and it will publish them. Hell, even on this site there are editorials written about the dangers of AI and what not that are clearly written by AI. Do they acknowledge it? Of course not. They confidently parade around like they are a source of authority on the subject. I'm sick to death of it.

So many movies are AI slop that it is just brain rotting. I go to do a Google search on something, and even if not under the AI tab the first summary that comes up is AI. And it is wrong the majority of the time! Let me repeat that. It is wrong the majority of the time. Unfortunately, it would appear that most people are too uneducated on whatever the subject matter might be to recognize that it is incorrect. And because it responds confidently, they believe it.

It all gives me a massive headache and just makes me want to turn my back on so many things that I have actually enjoyed in my life. While I do understand that everybody wants to be able to do everything and anything that they have their heart set on, there is a reason for practice. There is a reason for education. I should not have to spend hours scrolling through lists of books trying to find something I want to read, only for half or more of the listings that I pull up to end up being clearly AI or written so poorly that they should not be on the shelf with other books.

And that's just a small topic of all the fucked up crap going on in the world today. I haven't even touched upon the horrors. I am sick of it all. I am sick of Christian extremists trying to shove their beliefs down everybody's throats while they piss and shit all over everything it is that they're supposed to believe in. I can't even get started on the current cabinet, because I will just get filled with rage and depression.

I try to find positive things to read just to balance it out in my head. There is so much hatred and finger pointing and ignorance being touted as “good” that I have to come to accept that I either do not like people or I do not like “goodness.” Probably a bit of both in all fairness.

This world makes my soul ache. We focus on all the wrong things. We are supposed to want our children to be smarter than us, not dumb them down. We are supposed to provide our children with information and the knowledge of how to obtain information and then give them the choice from their learnings. We are supposed to protect them. Not by making them stupid. But by keeping them well fed, keeping a roof over their head, making sure that they have access to everything that they need to have access to in order to grow wiser. Do you have any idea how much a child's brain grows in the first handful of years in their life? Nutrition is vital to that growth. Actual nutrition.

It makes me sad to say that I don't like people. I want to like people. I want to be able to see positive things in everyone. I strive to. The reality is, as much as I want imto, I don't think I like people very much. I find humans extraordinarily disappointing. I think an unforeseen asteroid wiping us out would be one of the greatest blessings in the history of our planet. I really do, because we are a cesspool of rot that is so caught up in our make-believe storytelling of greatness, that we cannot see we're the ones shitting all over everything.

This week, I am grumpy. I have gained 2 pounds because I obsessively, emotionally ate far too much yesterday. The migraines have gotten much better and are now just a dim background annoyance. I have succeeded in not throwing my phone against a wall multiple times. And other things I'm not going to write about publicly, blah, blah, blah. I replaced the seat on my one toilet, and added a new handle-ma-bobber on the second one because the metal arm literally snapped off. It is no longer metal. Go me! I am sure there are plenty of other things, but I just cannot think of them right now. Probably because I am just so damn annoyed with the world.

We sicken me. We really do.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

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Sequestered in absentia, notes of wander beckoned notice like the blooded claim of an overtly familiar bite. Too tarnished to maintain an omniscience, her need began The Unraveling. Each tug. Every touch. All sensation became a ripened prayer to yearning's phantom dismemberment, and the obligatory recycling mandated when learning to walk on two broken feet.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

—

I’m working on a book of erotic poetry. I thought I'd pen some pieces to wander along beside it and wet the appetite. Those who know my writing side well know that I loathe creating titles for poetry. Titles for books are quite exciting, on the otherhand. I already know what this one will be.

Shame on the publishers who didn't catch it. Is seeing the underlying foundation and patterning really that challenging? It was bad enough when very talented authors chose to make virtual copy-and-paste books, but this...this...

It sends me into a rage. An actual rage. Fucking hell!

How do people stomach reading this fancied up slop?! That is NOT how a thesaurus is used!

No wonder AI companies are buying up rare books and texts, scanning, then destroying them. It's not just to train. Give it a few generations and no one will have any understanding of the soul or artistry of the written word.

My writing is far from perfect, but it's not garnished AI bullshit.

A bestseller should not be this heavy-handed with its AI usage. That book is far from tool level usage. It has a smattering of human touch in it, but little more than that.

I am so sick of picking up “bestsellers” only to be presented with lazy AI butchery.

Gargantuan. Crypt's grit-and-gravel save displaced me. No longer an exhumed force, I am a source to levy the abstained in retaliatory scare— a fare most swoon as gamble, or grief-seeking preamble, but never quite the scandal that piqued their interest in the first debase.

Many race towards me. The privileged face what forged me. A lucky few are gored in forked-fee, but no —one— sinks to the depths of my spare.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

fragrance titillates pierced flesh weeps for feral bite a ripe tart beckons

-—

I was originally writing a long-winded journal entry about writing. Or rather about my passion or lack of passion for writing. I decided to reintroduce grapefruit back into my life. I am hoping that I can have one for a morning jolt of vivaciousness without my body objecting too much. Finally got around to taking a bite of it... it's been a very long time since I have had a fresh ruby red grapefruit. Oh my, my. It looks like I've created an entirely new temptation to test my willpower with. I really want to gorge on a second.

No. Or rather yes. “Gorge” is absolutely the correct word. I do not want to delicately partition every sliver, and immediately eat it from my spoon. I want to section it into larger slivers, and hungrily devour it from equally tasty fingers. Then I want to lick every dripping rivulet of juice from the palm and wrist that has so kindly fed me the rejuvenating ambrosia.

Naughty thoughts. Naughty thoughts. I suppose it beats thinking about politics or taking the trash out.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved

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