barren land

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.

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

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

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

no longer writing in the third person

Thank you, Jack

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

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

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

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

and the fake qualifier

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

we can only engage in such a way

all that is to say

bro i read nothing in my life