Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
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.
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.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
yeah
we can only engage in such a way
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
you cannot feed someone truth
all that is to say
no longer writing in the third person
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
as in
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
i love it here
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
fw
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.