There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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.

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

13, H, grate

I am below everything.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Rain, starting

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