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

13, H, grate

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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

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

Picture

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?

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

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

hiding from the rain

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.