plato

13, H, grate

Style

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

currently

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

fw

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

I Write Goodbye Letter

so an active mazelike process

so at the end

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.

...

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

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

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.