I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

as in

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

i really havent

December 2025

have you read

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

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

is everyoneback on tumblr now

ahnaf abrar

what do you mean


It Will Get Lighter

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.

i love it here

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.