isaac

Better Lift

Picture

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.

no longer writing in the third person

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

"Put a blanket."

IWGD

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.

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

Rain, starting

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

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."

It's

dusk

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

so an active mazelike process

as in

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

its performative

you cannot feed someone truth