somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
its performative
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
you cannot feed someone truth
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Better Lift
"Put a blanket."
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
barren land
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
no longer writing in the third person
is everyoneback on tumblr now