One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
I am below everything.
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
you have a beautiful account btw
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
but really the thing should be autonomous
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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.
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Today I felt like starting
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.