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.

...

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

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 was tempted to lie about my name

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

its good short few pages

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

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

as in

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

fw

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

1

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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?

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.

was it worth it

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

the site i am dreaming

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

brb i will read and reply sincerely

you have a beautiful account btw

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

no i haven't really read anything