i was tempted to lie about my name

Worse Lift

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

you cannot feed someone truth

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

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

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.

yes

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

"Put a blanket."

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

but i respect your search

its performative

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

1

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

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

I am below everything.

Picture

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

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

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