Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
hiding from the rain
so an active mazelike process
i have read not even 1 book
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
its good
like magnets
Better Lift
its good short few pages
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.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
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?
we need to be deconstructing our identities