but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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 got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
I am below everything.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
was it worth it
i really havent
send link
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
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
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.