And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
hiding from the rain
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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
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
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.
"Put a blanket."
currently
autonomy of learning
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
you cannot feed someone truth
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.
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.