that looks like my instagram account
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
no i haven't really read anything
all that is to say
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
autonomy of learning
Today I felt like starting
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
not their contents
yeah
idk
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
we need to be deconstructing our identities