isaac

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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

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 struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

we can only engage in such a way

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

Worse Lift

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.

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?

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

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

but i respect your search

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

i see a website

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

I am below everything.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.



so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class