but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
no longer writing in the third person
currently
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
i really havent
or never left
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
"Put a blanket."
what do you mean
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.
bro i read nothing in my life
i was tempted to lie about my name
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
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
sorry i am texting like a slav
so an active mazelike process