not their contents
lol yea
whats your name?
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?
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
no i haven't really read anything
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
feel you
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I am below everything.
lol
like magnets
in a post. I want to be remembered
so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
i was tempted to lie about my name
The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."