{% extends "thoughts/page.html" %}

{% block title %}About{% endblock %}

{% block navigation %}
    <a  class="text" href="/">Thoughts</a>
    <h1 class="text" aria-current="page">About</h1>{% if authenticated %}
    <a  class="text" href="/post">Post</a>
{% endif %}
{% endblock %}

{% block head %}
<meta name="twitter:card" content="summary">
<meta content="About" property="og:title">
<meta content="About" name="twitter:title">

<meta content="This is a website that I created to document my thoughts..." property="og:description">
<meta content="This is a website that I created to document my thoughts..." name="twitter:description">
{% endblock %}

{% block main %}
    <h1>Welcome!</h1>

    <p class="text">
        This is a website that I created to document my thoughts. It addresses many of my gripes with similar platforms, like Twitter, Tumblr, Micro.blog, and Blogger, although it takes inspiration from all of these.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I’m Matthias. These are mostly my thoughts. Raw, un-distilled, thoughts. I do filter any thoughts that would be offensive or NSFW. Generally, with the exception of censored profanity, complex ideas, and links to other sites that are less principled, this site should be safe for your child to read.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is my own creation. It follows my own rules. It is dedicated to 3 things.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        First, of course, is thoughts. The mere act of creating ideas is good, and those ideas should be shared.<br>
        Second, is words. Words still have power.<br>
        Third, is design. Design is simplicity and functionality and form and appearance.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Welcome to a website, welcome to my website. Or someone’s website, at least.
        Websites are strange like that, you can never really tell who they belong to. Maybe this website belongs to you,
        for the amount of time that you’re here and you have it. Maybe it belongs to to no one, or all of us.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I am a very small amount of everyone. Infinitesimally small pieces of me belong to everyone,
        and I suppose that includes you, so I owe you at least something.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a website. It is not an academic paper, thesis, or dissertation.
        I do guarantee that all of the thoughts here are genuine&mdash;that is,
        I actually had them.
        However, I make no guarantees regarding their quality.
        Many of the thoughts here were had, posted, and then immediately discarded as clearly worthless.
        This is not disclaimed, I trust that you too can discern which of these thoughts are core values of my life
        and which are the merest passing fancy.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a website.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a breeding ground for ideas. The only criteria for something to be posted here is that I want it to be.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Here I work on answering the question. Everything posted here is an attempt to capture the liquid of life.
        Some moments are rocks, forcing you to hold on to them, weighing you down. Others are liquid, slipping out of your
        hands despite your best attempts. I suspect we are all frantically searching for a way to hold on
        to the things that are rapidly slipping away from our grasp.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a blog. In much the sense that Tumblr is a blogging platform,
        so too is this website.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        If you realize that you’re dying, they only thing to do is turn back toward your childhood.
        Oh so many people don’t realize, or realize too late. I saw a man getting a transfusion of blood.
        Though it was necessary to keep him alive, the pain of having it injected into him incapacitated him.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is free and unencumbered software released into the public domain.<br>
        This is <a href="https://tildegit.org/matthias/WhisperMaPhone">WhisperMaPhone</a>. It’s a tool I created to share my thoughts.
        If you’re interested in setting up a page similar to this, let me know.
    </p>

    <p class="text quote">
        “Our brains are dulled by the incurable mania of wanting to make the unknown known, classifiable.
        The desire for analysis wins out over the sentiments.”
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the void. There’s no way for you to contact me on here.
        There are no guarantees when you’re shouting into the void. But the void doesn’t normally shout back.
        No one ever said the void wasn’t listening. You’re listening. This is my void.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I use single quotes to indicate that I’m paraphrasing, and double-quotes to indicate a direct quotation from someone else.
        Sometimes I will not cite my source, because the origin is less important that the words.
        Sometimes I don’t remember the source.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        The portion of this website which is hidden from prying eyes is written in Python, with Django.
        Although it is visible to a couple of eyes on account of their not-prying. Everyone looks but only
        few find. Still, you cannot find if you do not look, although whether you are more or less prepared
        to understand what you find is a different point entirely.
    </p>

    <p class="text quote">
        “In this day and age logical
        methods are applicable only to solving problems of secondary
        interest”
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        It has recently come to my attention that there is some confusion regarding the purpose of this website,
        or even, what it is. This page should answer both of those questions.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I can only pray you understand what I give you, but likely you will not. They never did understand the gifts they
        were given.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a surrender and a revel. This is an experiment.
        This is a rejection of social media and an embrace of it.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a circus inside a clown factory. This is a bomb.
    </p>

    <em class="text">
        All thoughts are provided with a timestamp in the timezone of the poster, to ensure proper contextualization.
        Contextualization is of utmost importance.
    </em>

    <p class="text" style="padding-left: calc(100% - 200px)">
        This is different. This is the same.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I’m Matthias. (most of the time)
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a Russian bot attempting to manipulate the election process.
        Posts here represent a subset of the result of training a GPT-3 text generation algorithm on my brain.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a result of not even knowing what alcohol tastes like.
        This is fire from the past. This is my first most prized possession.
        This is <span style="text-decoration: line-through">Researcher Talloran</span>.
    </p>

    <em class="text">
        All thoughts are provided completely free of context.
    </em>

    <p class="text">
        Gödel has disproved logic. The imperfections of the human mind are inescapable. There are perhaps
        corners of that 2D plane of logic that remain unexplored, but by logic alone that plane will never be fully
        explored, so those corners do not interest us. No, let us think in 3D.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is an ebenezer to the Lord and the things He has done for me.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I’m hungry.
    </p>

    <p class="text">Hey there, it’s Nate.</p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is an outlet for the many intrusive thoughts that I have, that I cannot speak out loud. These thoughts don’t have meaning, they aren’t important. Even if it were socially acceptable for me to share them at random times, even if people were interested, they’re still not of any particular value. On the other hand, here they can be themselves. They can exist free from judgement. You, and me, come here to examine the curious thoughts of a curious boy. Here my thoughts can thrive.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the real track four.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a story about a boy.<br>
        People don’t like things that are different.<br>
        The world is confusing.<br>
        This is a cult.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is an explanation. This page answers any questions you may have about this website.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Welcome to my website! This is a micro-blogging platform for me to share my thoughts.
        This website breaks normal blogging and micro-blogging paradigms. I have 140 character limit on the first line,
        for real quick thoughts, and then a Show More button, and then unlimited characters in a second field.
        I’ll sometimes use hundreds of characters, writing mini-essays on topics that catch my interest.
        This would be very impractical to do on Twitter. Although this websites solves another gripe with Twitter,
        the concept of “liking” Tweets. I don’t ask for your feedback here. This frees me to post what I’m inspired to,
        and allows you to experience what I post without worrying about if you should “like” it.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is how I learned to stop worrying. This is a flea in which our two bloods mingled be.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        All thoughts posted here are those of my employer.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the end and a new beginning. I’ve stopped using Discord, Twitter, Instagram, and other social media
        since creating this website.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I open vim to write. I don’t have a spell checker, so I struggle, catching my own errors by sight, recognizeing that the word looks wrong, but not knowing how to fix it. I shrug. I’ll go over it with a spell-check at some point. But I might not. I might impuse-publish this page, one night, when I’m feeling particularly lonely. Then the message that I dread (“you spelled ‘recognizeing’ wrong”) might come as a welcome social interaction, and an opprotunity to improve my website. Rather than an annoyance.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is not a test. This is considered harmful. This is mostly harmless.
        Fear the daemons you have created at JOKEEFUNNY.COM.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is art. This is poetry.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a revolution of the proletariat. We will not sit quietly.<br>
        This is sitting loudly. This website is inaction. It exists only to let me complain.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I find it helps to imagine all of my posts here as the murmurings of someone talking in their sleep.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I bought a book earlier today. I am writing instead of reading it. The irony. I created this site to give me a space to write, and yet, often I post here merely things that I have read. The irony.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Thank you for coming to my website, and reading some of my thoughts.
        It really does mean a lot to me that you’re interested enough to read them.
        I pride myself on my thoughts, and if people weren’t interested in them

    <p class="text">
        I’m tired.<br>
        I’m tired of this. I want to do something interesting, something different. I want to do something different every day.
        I want to feel something.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is an attempt to feel something.<br>
        This is a safe space for me to vent.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the end of my sanity, of normalcy, of grammaer and ru;es and smaness.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is poetry, this is all poetry, and if you haven’t figured that out by now, then I’m probably not that interested in listening to you, so you shouldn’t feel any obligation to listen to me. This is the poetry of a broken generation. Of a generation that is as broken as any that came before it, and yet feels the pain of brokenness just as strongly as any others.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Pray with me. <em>The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.</em> The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me. The LORD is close to me.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is a prayer.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is an exercise in mental stimulation.
        This website stores Thoughts that I have, but it also encourage me to have thoughts in the first place.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This website is a part of who I am<br>
        This is a representation of my mind.<br>
        This is an influence on me<br>
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Soli Deo gloria
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Thoughts posted here seem to fall into one of a few discrete categories. Firstly, analysises of topics, things that would be too long for Twitter, or else invite debate. Second, updates on my life and what I’m doing and feeling. Third, expressions, of feelings. All try to be informative, humours, and rehtorically enjoyable.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Poetry is text written to convey emotion. Text is written to convey emotion. This is text.
    </p>

    <p>
        This is not text.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is a fan page for the Breckenridge Jazz Hands.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I’m always hungry.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Please, don’t try to share anything here in other places. I just don’t imagine it going well. Although sharing this website as a whole I imagine would be beneficial.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        I fear this is a creative writing exercise.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the end.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is my last ditch effort. My guilty pleasure. My bad habit.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        Good Night.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is my late-night indulgence. Be sure to like and subscribe for more.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This is the result of not getting enough sleep.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        This what I’m thinking.
    </p>

    <p class="text">
        These are my Thoughts.
    </p>

{% endblock %}