i was tempted to lie about my name

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

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.

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

i have read not even 1 book

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

its performative

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

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

its good