i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

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?

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.

lol

is everyoneback on tumblr now

send your tumblr

that looks like my instagram account

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

Can I see

yeah

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

...

brb i will read and reply sincerely

you have a beautiful account btw

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

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

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

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.