isaac
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
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?
Lift Analysis
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
brb i will read and reply sincerely
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
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
but really the thing should be autonomous
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
really i want the internet
"Put a blanket."
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
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.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
no i haven't really read anything
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.