- Joined
- Nov 16, 2025
- Messages
- 1,770
- Solutions
- 1
- Online time
- 2d 1h
- Reputation
- 1,644
- Location
- yomama
- Guild
- The Goats of this Forum
Most noble, venerable, and exceedingly cherished gentlemen of this distinguished and honourable assembly, faithful compatriots in the interminable pilgrimage of earthly existence, and silent witnesses unto the innumerable absurdities, degradations, temptations, catastrophes, and fleeting triumphs that do so relentlessly accompany the tragicomic spectacle of human life beneath the cold and indifferent gaze of the celestial heavens above — lend now, I most humbly beseech thee, thine attentive ears and charitable sympathies unto a declaration of no trifling magnitude, for I stand at this very hour upon the precipice of a decision both grave in implication and monumental in spiritual consequence.
For lo, the hour groweth intolerably late.
The candles of wakefulness burn low within the chambers of mine weary mind; the feeble lanterns of consciousness flicker as though besieged by cruel and invisible winds; and every faculty granted unto me by Nature’s inscrutable design doth cry aloud with desperate urgency for release from the burdensome obligations of continued awareness. Mine eyes, once bright with worldly perception, have become heavy as ancient cathedral bells suspended by rusted chains; mine limbs possess all the vigour and responsiveness of a drowned mariner dragged ashore after weeks upon a merciless and storm-ravaged sea; and mine very soul itself seemeth wrapped in the suffocating velvet shroud of exhaustion.
Thus, compelled alike by bodily necessity, spiritual depletion, and the immutable ordinances established by Providence for the preservation of mortal sanity, I have resolved — though not without solemn contemplation and considerable inward tumult — to retire from the illuminated theatres of conscious society and commit mine person unto the uncertain, mysterious, and altogether peculiar dominion of nocturnal slumber.
Yet alas — and here, dear friends, lieth the true heart of the matter — the path toward peaceful repose is not so smooth, innocent, nor uncomplicated as it might first appear unto the casual observer.
For as many among thee shall doubtless understand through bitter personal familiarity, there exist within the darkest corridors of the midnight hour certain seductive impulses, ignoble compulsions, and spiritually ruinous inclinations which creep forth like thieves, spectres, and whispering devils from the hidden recesses of man’s basest nature. These wretched temptations, born perhaps from idleness, loneliness, curiosity, habit, weakness, melancholy, or some infernal conspiracy betwixt all such forces combined, do oft descend upon the solitary individual with terrible persistence precisely at that vulnerable moment when he seeketh merely to close his eyes and surrender himself unto rest.
And I — lamentably, tragically, and with no small degree of shame — am not wholly immune unto their dreadful influence.
Therefore must I now confess before this gathered fellowship, with all candour, humility, and emotional nakedness proper unto such a solemn occasion, that it is mine earnest intention upon this night not merely to seek sleep, but moreover to undertake a most arduous campaign of resistance against those profane distractions and scandalous degeneracies of the flesh which vulgar modern parlance hath chosen to designate under the exceedingly inelegant term “gooning.”
Indeed, I shall strive — with whatever fragments of dignity, restraint, discipline, honour, and divine grace remain yet uncorrupted within the crumbling architecture of my mortal spirit — to abstain entirely from such behaviours. I shall endeavour to resist the siren-song of temptation though it call unto me from glowing screens in the blackened silence of midnight; though boredom itself should gnaw upon the walls of my consciousness like a starving rat imprisoned within the cellar of an abandoned monastery; though mine own thoughts betray me; though weakness seize me; though the adversarial forces of lust, sloth, curiosity, and catastrophic decision-making converge upon me with all the terrible fury of a biblical plague.
For tonight, gentlemen — tonight shall be a trial.
Not merely of habit, nor merely of self-control, but of character itself.
A contest most ancient and terrible: Man versus Himself.
The battlefield shall be my chamber.
The hour shall be late.
The lighting shall be poor.
The spirit willing, yet the flesh profoundly susceptible unto idiocy.
And thus, before I embark upon this hazardous and uncertain expedition into the shadowed wilderness betwixt wakefulness and oblivion, I do humbly and most desperately implore thee for thy blessings, thy encouragements, thy moral support, thy favourable prognostications, and whatsoever scraps of courage or providential fortune thou mayst spare for a struggling soul engaged in so private yet so universal a conflict.
Pray for me, good sirs.
Wish me strength.
Wish me endurance.
Wish me clarity of purpose.
Wish me the wisdom to close mine applications.
Wish me the fortitude to place the accursed device face downward upon the bedside table and leave it untouched.
Wish me deliverance from mine own catastrophically self-destructive inclinations.
And should I emerge victorious upon the morrow — unfallen, unrestained by shame, and adequately rested besides — then let it be recorded within the annals of this esteemed fellowship that on this night, against formidable odds and under conditions most perilous unto discipline, a weary and imperfect man did gaze into the abyss of temptation… and, by some miracle unfathomable unto mortal comprehension, elected instead to simply go to sleep.
Godspeed unto thee all.
And may Heaven have mercy upon my soul.
For lo, the hour groweth intolerably late.
The candles of wakefulness burn low within the chambers of mine weary mind; the feeble lanterns of consciousness flicker as though besieged by cruel and invisible winds; and every faculty granted unto me by Nature’s inscrutable design doth cry aloud with desperate urgency for release from the burdensome obligations of continued awareness. Mine eyes, once bright with worldly perception, have become heavy as ancient cathedral bells suspended by rusted chains; mine limbs possess all the vigour and responsiveness of a drowned mariner dragged ashore after weeks upon a merciless and storm-ravaged sea; and mine very soul itself seemeth wrapped in the suffocating velvet shroud of exhaustion.
Thus, compelled alike by bodily necessity, spiritual depletion, and the immutable ordinances established by Providence for the preservation of mortal sanity, I have resolved — though not without solemn contemplation and considerable inward tumult — to retire from the illuminated theatres of conscious society and commit mine person unto the uncertain, mysterious, and altogether peculiar dominion of nocturnal slumber.
Yet alas — and here, dear friends, lieth the true heart of the matter — the path toward peaceful repose is not so smooth, innocent, nor uncomplicated as it might first appear unto the casual observer.
For as many among thee shall doubtless understand through bitter personal familiarity, there exist within the darkest corridors of the midnight hour certain seductive impulses, ignoble compulsions, and spiritually ruinous inclinations which creep forth like thieves, spectres, and whispering devils from the hidden recesses of man’s basest nature. These wretched temptations, born perhaps from idleness, loneliness, curiosity, habit, weakness, melancholy, or some infernal conspiracy betwixt all such forces combined, do oft descend upon the solitary individual with terrible persistence precisely at that vulnerable moment when he seeketh merely to close his eyes and surrender himself unto rest.
And I — lamentably, tragically, and with no small degree of shame — am not wholly immune unto their dreadful influence.
Therefore must I now confess before this gathered fellowship, with all candour, humility, and emotional nakedness proper unto such a solemn occasion, that it is mine earnest intention upon this night not merely to seek sleep, but moreover to undertake a most arduous campaign of resistance against those profane distractions and scandalous degeneracies of the flesh which vulgar modern parlance hath chosen to designate under the exceedingly inelegant term “gooning.”
Indeed, I shall strive — with whatever fragments of dignity, restraint, discipline, honour, and divine grace remain yet uncorrupted within the crumbling architecture of my mortal spirit — to abstain entirely from such behaviours. I shall endeavour to resist the siren-song of temptation though it call unto me from glowing screens in the blackened silence of midnight; though boredom itself should gnaw upon the walls of my consciousness like a starving rat imprisoned within the cellar of an abandoned monastery; though mine own thoughts betray me; though weakness seize me; though the adversarial forces of lust, sloth, curiosity, and catastrophic decision-making converge upon me with all the terrible fury of a biblical plague.
For tonight, gentlemen — tonight shall be a trial.
Not merely of habit, nor merely of self-control, but of character itself.
A contest most ancient and terrible: Man versus Himself.
The battlefield shall be my chamber.
The hour shall be late.
The lighting shall be poor.
The spirit willing, yet the flesh profoundly susceptible unto idiocy.
And thus, before I embark upon this hazardous and uncertain expedition into the shadowed wilderness betwixt wakefulness and oblivion, I do humbly and most desperately implore thee for thy blessings, thy encouragements, thy moral support, thy favourable prognostications, and whatsoever scraps of courage or providential fortune thou mayst spare for a struggling soul engaged in so private yet so universal a conflict.
Pray for me, good sirs.
Wish me strength.
Wish me endurance.
Wish me clarity of purpose.
Wish me the wisdom to close mine applications.
Wish me the fortitude to place the accursed device face downward upon the bedside table and leave it untouched.
Wish me deliverance from mine own catastrophically self-destructive inclinations.
And should I emerge victorious upon the morrow — unfallen, unrestained by shame, and adequately rested besides — then let it be recorded within the annals of this esteemed fellowship that on this night, against formidable odds and under conditions most perilous unto discipline, a weary and imperfect man did gaze into the abyss of temptation… and, by some miracle unfathomable unto mortal comprehension, elected instead to simply go to sleep.
Godspeed unto thee all.
And may Heaven have mercy upon my soul.
