bro i read nothing in my life

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

so an active mazelike process

so at the end

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

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

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

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

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

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

Style

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

no longer writing in the third person

so the method has to be autonomous

it is hopeful

hiding from the rain

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

as in

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.

"Put a blanket."

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls