Today I felt like starting
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"Put a blanket."
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
what do you think my name is
yeah
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
much more tactility
division of reality is straying away from it
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
so at the end
isaac
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
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.
bro i read nothing in my life
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
so an active mazelike process