One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"Put a blanket."

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

abrar?

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

13, H, grate

Lift Analysis

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

so at the end

autonomy of learning

much more tactility

not their contents

so the method has to be autonomous

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."