much more tactility

IWGD

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Rain, starting

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?

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

Thank you, Jack

13, H, grate

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

thank you

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.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

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

Slug

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

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.