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.

I Write Goodbye Letter

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

...

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

autonomy of learning

division of reality is straying away from it

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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?

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

i was tempted to lie about my name

abrar?

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

isaac