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.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
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
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
"Put a blanket."
all that is to say
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
you cannot feed someone truth
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.