After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
feel you
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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.
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.like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
Lift Analysis
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
yes
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
so the method has to be autonomous