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.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
I am below everything.
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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?
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
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
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it