Thank you, Jack
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
isaac newton
brb i will read and reply sincerely
send link
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.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.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
have you read
i have read not even 1 book
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.
no like which do people call me
so an active mazelike process