Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

It's

dusk

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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

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.

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?

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Style

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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

IWGD

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.

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

send your tumblr

plato

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

your feed looks like my tumblr

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