I want to reminisce, but not in the abject, crass way. Or rather, I want to write and fictionalise my experiences, only after experiencing them all.
To be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure what I want to do or think about… but what I will to is finish Less than Zero and its excessively lengthy sentences, and by excessive I mean: well done.

♪: mother mother- Alone and Sublime

The Resistor

Probably.

I don’t dislike it, I heard it and thought it was me, granted I also heard polymath and cried out in need, I think it probably sums it up but I want so much to be more than the emotion of anger. To be more than a simple emotion generally, but resistor. It’s a delight of a term. It’s highly specific, isn’t it?
Enormously so.

I couldn’t comprehend Nigel ever attempting to encapsulate our essences without an excessive amount of careful, deliberate and exaggerated thought. He simply would not be able to do it, it would be fundamentally impossible and as such I think the term requires further deliberation.

Resistor (n.)
Late 14c., “one who resists;” 1580s, “that which resists;” agent noun in Latin form from resist. Late Middle English: from Old French resister or Latin resistere, from re- (expressing opposition) + sistere ‘stop’ (reduplication of stare ‘to...

uncertain if flat-chest, short blonde hair ideal is aesthetic or identity

modernity makes life incredibly hard
as do bodies

disconcerted and unhappy.

♪: Why?

I’m not sure if I’m being too sensitive or it I’ve just hit the point where I just don’t want to have to deal with it anymore. Not to mention the fact that I haven’t really done anything but the bare minimum and then come back home these last three weeks.

It’s just that I feel as though B judges people a lot, but I think this is a byproduct of being an only child and being friends with incredibly judge(y) people that apparently, constantly tell her, essentially, to ‘sort out her life’ and so she just has that air of judgment. It’s for this reason that when I come across as judging her, which I’m not as it’s usually confusion, she gets instantly defensive and shuts off, no longer believing me that I was not in any way judging her because why would I? There’s far too much of that in the world. Yet still she judges, it’s a defensive mechanism.

A result of this is that I don’t want to talk...

Sometimes i feel as though i’ve become less and less impressive and spectacular. I held such promise when I was younger and could ‘objectively’ be better than average in the various areas we were tested in but now, having specialised in some absurd non-existant realm, i’m entirely less impressive.

We were given the opportunity to talk and i never truly did. I guess my firsts, while never giving anything in entirety to lectures or lecturers, were actually testament to this fact. Still I am underachieving only now the underachievement looks like an uncaring lack of investment. It never was such but appearances are everything.

Nonetheless it still feels as though my mind is no longer on the exactitude of what it once was: I swear i used to affect people but that is no more. People misunderstand and simply don’t get me and my circles are no longer as enormously broad as they once were and...

…

I don’t even know how i feel about you anymore. The sheer quantity of time i spend thinking about you every now and again, regardless of how i don’t think i have feelings for you, is absurd.

And how ridiculous this recurrence is in messing with my mind.

The feelings are still there, perhaps forever, but i do forget you exist and often so who knows why.

Likely it remains because we never saw it through, you just disappeared while still remaining and it sucked. A lot. That’s it isn’t it? I was holding onto you while letting everything else go and then when you slipped away i was left to fall and fall hard.

It was never about you, not really. I do know that but still, it was a lot to deal with.
She was wonderful, by the way, an absolute delight.

The vast quantity of stuff that was fucked up consequentially though is UNREAL. unreal.

So you invited me to a RAVE, of all things, at...

Family is hard.

Strangely difficult

multiple fights were had over christmas, the usual thing
although i think K and M are finally sorted out…??? i should ask K because who even knows.

I didn’t write anything bout it however for reasons unknown, too sad about it and on edge and i was trying desperately to write my essay so anyway.

TOO MUCH, LET’S MOVE ONE.
It’s okay now though i think.

BUT
the reason i’m here…

♪: Gerard Way

saying goodbye is difficult, mostly because the act requires a realisation of the transitory nature of existence and people which is devastating once you acquire someone that affirms your existence and speech

that is the perfect variation of those who demand you speak
and call out your expressions as bullshit
because, granted they exist in an absolute world while you reside in something more uncertain and quantum
fuck them though. Fuck that guy, fuckthat.

but also, fuck those who
i don’t even know
i don’t think i dealt with the occurrence
and then
today
and my tape recorder didn’t even record it all
fuckthat.

sorry.

This was supposed to be a love letter but it turned into someone rather otherwise, just know that you exist in the space on the other side to this position. you are none of these things and that is perfect.

It’s really interesting that in grounding our undergrad liberal arts degree in abstract thought and metaphysics of an “anti-realism” (I’d argue that this was untrue because the reality is that which you perceive, it’s a here is THE truth argument which isn’t real) we’d necessarily come up against extreme realists in the believing in an actual world that isn’t ‘thought’, that isn’t idealist. It’s good because our lecturers brought in someone from outside of the degree without the grounding of this abstract relativist existentialism but of a more real, human, we exist in this reality stance so we have that interaction now from someone who could preempt these discussions.

But we all agree and knew where and what we were saying and live in this, we came to each other’s defence because it’s true and it’s impossible to think the world is entirely objective and not relative and if it’s...

“It’s the kind of book you store folded in on itself inside a back pocket. With a deep grey echoing black leather jacket hitting the cover and pages while the zipper rattles just enough to be a precursor of arrival. The pocket belonging to a straight legged, mom-jean wearing, white t-shirted Jack Dean wannabe wonders down the road. Beyond all reasons and physics the book manages to stay nuzzled up against that jean pocket and buttock, absolutely ridiculously. Not stirring once through sheer force of will. For the book knows that that is where it belongs and that is where it will stay until called upon.
Only the book isn’t in that archetypal hand but in ______‘s.
And their jeans have no pockets.”