I started writing a post about the visual DNA thingamajig that I saw at Contemplator's site, and then I didn't so much. And then the page was suddenly there again as I closed some other window, and I thought about the whole thing again.
The conclusion I came to is that I wasted a good couple of minutes or so looking at pictures and trying to decide whether this one or the other most meant love. I noticed that my favorite, ennui, was nowhere on the list. That alone is enough not to trust the testing capabilities of this thing, but in the end, I seem to like what it says. It's kind of like getting a good fortune in a fortune cookie. You kind of want to stick it in your wallet as if that will help make the fortune more likely to transpire, but then you forget about it for a few years until your cleaning you wallet and it's not even legible, plus it's so worn you don't recognize it as a fortune cookie fortune anyway, so what the fuck is the point in ever saving them again? But that's really not where we're going with this.
No, this is about pictures and emotions and feelingy kind of shit. You don't have to bother looking at it if you don't want to. The few people reading this that I might actually know may not even bother to try grokking whether it's accurate or not. Plus the fact that I'm a bit of lone wolf, an enigma wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in a vest in a certain sense.
Oh, and the bedroom in the one picture is so unlike my own actual bedroom, the one in which the magic is said to happen. What actually is happening is that years later, it seems as if we are still moving into that one room. We'll get to it one of these days.