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

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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 longer writing in the third person

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

yeah

so the method has to be autonomous

as in

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

idk

barren land

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.

lol yea

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

is everyoneback on tumblr now

that looks like my instagram account