I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
hello reader,
fw
or never left
ion
isaac
i love it here
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
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.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
send your tumblr
lol yea
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
hiding from the rain
what do you mean
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
your feed looks like my tumblr