nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
but really the thing should be autonomous
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
lol
its performative
i dont understand magnetisation
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
which magnetises chains of pins
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Thank you, Jack
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
i understand
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
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.
we need to be deconstructing our identities
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.