1

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Style

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

no longer writing in the third person

It's

dusk

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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.

god being the centre magnet

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

you cannot feed someone truth

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

ion

sorry i am texting like a slav

i dont understand magnetisation

have you read

much more tactility

13, H, grate

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

isaac newton