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.

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

really i want the internet

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

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

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.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

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

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

but i respect your search

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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