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IWGD


Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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?

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
"Put a blanket."

13, H, grate

was it worth it

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging
confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

I Write Goodbye Letter

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak