Rain, starting

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

IWGD

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?

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Picture

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Better Lift

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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 know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

It's

dusk

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

"Put a blanket."

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

1

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying