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ex•ten•som•e•ter
/ˌek-ˌsten-ˈsäm-ət-ər/
Function: n
: an instrument for measuring minute deformations caused by tension, compression, bending, or twisting (called also strain gauge)


Writer(s), mostly poetry. Student. Densely populated; nevertheless increasingly hermitic, and somewhat troubled by that. Recently, often dangerously depressed. Difficult to explain in twenty words or less. Etc., etc., and so forth. Usually open to new contacts and communication. Uninterested in wank and purveyors thereof.

Topics covered will run the gamut from pointless memes to discussion or processing of or about some of the many disturbing events that took place in our childhood to enthusiastic outpourings about plans for our life, as we think of them.

We do not generally make use of filters in this journal, apart from the poetry and prose filters (ask if you want to be added to those, mainly because we don't want to make anyone read, or skip past, things you have no interest in); we use this journal as little as possible to vent about anyone our readers know, and not at all to vent secretly about anyone on our access list. We have, however, opted to change this policy slightly and add one filter for the occasional post about something we deem too private for anyone to read but a very, very few people that we know extremely well. This will be very rare, and our policy remains that if there's a post you're not privy to, you can rest assured that if you're in our access list, it is not about you.

We will probably give you access if we have no reason not to, though we require some measure of mutual trust - if you don't want us to have access to your journal, we will eventually assume that you have no interest in reading ours and adjust our access and subscription lists accordingly.

We have decided to make our cell available to people on our access list. We rarely feel comfortable having unscheduled phone conversations (though there are always exceptions), nor do we answer calls from numbers we don't recognize, but we very much like sending and receiving texts, and have an unlimited number of them at our disposal. Our phone is basically always on and usually near us, so unless we are sleeping, otherwise unconscious, trapped under something heavy, or dead, we will probably answer texts in a fairly timely fashion. (We realize that this information will matter very little to most people on our access list.)

Generally friendlier than this makes us sound. (Not always.)