isaac newton

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

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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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.

is everyoneback on tumblr now

no i haven't really read anything

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

like magnets

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

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.

like first name

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

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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

what do you think my name is

and the fake qualifier

its good

i was tempted to lie about my name

much more tactility

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

we can only engage in such a way

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

Pimlico Rats