currently

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

in a post. I want to be remembered

Rain, starting

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

really i want the internet

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

13, H, grate

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

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

I am below everything.

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

isaac