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no i haven't really read anything
currently
ion
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
as in
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
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
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
thank you
fw
i dont understand magnetisation
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
the site i am dreaming
much more tactility
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.
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.