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.
I am below everything.
currently
hiding from the rain
you cannot feed someone truth
like first name
sorry i am texting like a slav
bro i read nothing in my life
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
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
i dont understand magnetisation
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
it is hopeful
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
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.
but really the thing should be autonomous
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
what do you think my name is
like magnets
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models