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i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
you have a beautiful account btw
currently
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
really i want the internet
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.
it is hopeful
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
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.
...
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
you cannot feed someone truth
magnetises a pin
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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.
abrar?
brb i will read and reply sincerely
your feed looks like my tumblr