i am quite illiterate on producing technology

i was tempted to lie about my name

hiding from the rain

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

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.

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

i really havent

ahnaf abrar

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

Rain, starting

lol yea

hello reader,

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.

I Write Goodbye Letter

as in

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

not their contents

2 (actually index). two is company

idk

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

its good short few pages

Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

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

1

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.