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.
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
was it worth it
...
no like which do people call me
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
Thank you, Jack
or never left
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
i have read not even 1 book
that looks like my instagram account
is everyoneback on tumblr now
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
have you read
yes
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
barren land
Better Lift
ahnaf abrar
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
and the fake qualifier