thank you
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.
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
division of reality is straying away from it
we can only engage in such a way
but really the thing should be autonomous
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
all that is to say
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
Today I felt like starting
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
hiding from the rain
yeah
idk
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
i dont understand magnetisation