Worse Lift

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

so at the end

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

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

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

Better Lift

send your tumblr

its performative

plato

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