a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

no longer writing in the third person

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

It Will Get Lighter

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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?

I am below everything.

"Put a blanket."

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

13, H, grate

Rain, starting

like first name

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

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

god being the centre magnet

i have read not even 1 book

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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.

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

no like which do people call me

isaac newton

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.

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

so at the end

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people