it is hopeful
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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
magnetisation/form
you cannot feed someone truth
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
its performative
propensity within someone
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
"Put a blanket."
really i want the internet
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
hiding from the rain
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
bro i read nothing in my life
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
what do you think my name is
and the fake qualifier
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