Lift Analysis

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

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

not so on: yvf(wthw)

...

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

Picture

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

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

I am below everything.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in 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 Write Goodbye Letter

i really havent

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

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

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.

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

i have read not even 1 book

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

hello reader,

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

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.

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

much more tactility

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.

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

Worse Lift