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

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

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

plato

god being the centre magnet

not their contents

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

your feed looks like my tumblr

bro i read nothing in my life

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me. The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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.

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

December 2025

Style

13, H, grate

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.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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.

is this you as well

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.