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.

kind of mythopoesis

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

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

Can I see

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Better Lift

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

no longer writing in the third person

"Put a blanket."

you cannot feed someone truth

propensity within someone

much more tactility

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

IWGD

that looks like my instagram account

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

i have read not even 1 book

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

its performative

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.