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?
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
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
it is hopeful
kind of mythopoesis
i see a website
no longer writing in the third person
there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.
lol yea
Better Lift
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
currently
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
division of reality is straying away from it