a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

2 (actually index). two is company

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

i really havent

ion

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

plato

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

thank you

idk

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

and the fake qualifier

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.

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.

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

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

Lift Analysis

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

I Write Goodbye Letter

Rain, starting

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

i have read not even 1 book

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.