much more tactility

Today I felt like starting

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

13, H, grate

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?

I Write Goodbye Letter

fw

i want to do that too

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

It Will Get Lighter

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

or never left

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

so at the end

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

It Will Get Lighter

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

barren land

i have read not even 1 book


"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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.

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

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.