i have read not even 1 book
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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.
it is hopeful
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.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
no longer writing in the third person
I am below everything.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.