barren land
that looks like my instagram account
isaac newton
i understand
and the fake qualifier
was it worth it
...
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
as in
but really the thing should be autonomous
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
plato
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.
which magnetises chains of pins
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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 religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.bro i read nothing in my life
Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.
no like which do people call me
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
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.