My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

It Will Get Lighter

yes

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Lift Analysis

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

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

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

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

currently

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

so at the end

Thank you, Jack

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

It Will Get Lighter

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

it is hopeful

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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

fw

i really havent

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.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

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.

and the fake qualifier