idk

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 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.

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.

hiding from the rain

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

you have a beautiful account btw

really i want the internet

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

yeah

isaac newton

...

which magnetises chains of pins

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

so an active mazelike process

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then