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.
and the fake qualifier
was it worth it
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
bro i read nothing in my life
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
we need to be deconstructing our identities
i want to do that too
no longer writing in the third person
yes
no like which do people call me
and the fake qualifier
kind of mythopoesis
god being the centre magnet
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
Thank you, Jack
send your tumblr
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away