I Write Goodbye Letter

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

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

but really the thing should be autonomous

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

Rain, starting

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.

kind of mythopoesis

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.

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

Today I felt like starting

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

it is hopeful

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

1

no longer writing in the third person

Picture

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.