hello reader,

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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.

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


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.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.


Lift Analysis

in a post. I want to be remembered

Can I see

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

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

so the method has to be autonomous

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate