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.
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.
After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.
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.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
its good
"Put a blanket."
wait what is that
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
idk
but really the thing should be autonomous
bro i read nothing in my life
Thank you, Jack
that looks like my instagram account
i have read not even 1 book
Better Lift
or never left
isaac