She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
but i respect your search
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
it is hopeful
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
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
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
13 |
|
|
H |
|
|
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
|