Human slop detected
AR

it's ok
love is the cure
everything happens for a reason

be yourself
follow your heart

good vibes only
As fibras da alma se soltando.
- Dostoiévski por Pondé em Linhas Cruzadas (27/08/2026)
Theory of memory
Louise Glück

Long, long ago, before I was a tormented artist, afflicted with longing yet incapable of forming durable attachments, long before this, I was a glorious ruler uniting all of a divided country—so I was told by the fortune-teller who examined my palm. Great things, she said, are ahead of you, or perhaps behind you; it is difficult to be sure. And yet, she added, what is the difference? Right now you are a child holding hands with a fortune-teller. All the rest is hypothesis and dream.
The Accumulation of evidence
AR

There was this guy who used to show
how much he was studying.

All those books, apps, PDFs, videos, dissertations.
But what about the learning?

All he kept showing was
a fascination with appearance.

He never changed.

The knowledge remained
where he had found it—
beautifully arranged,
undigested.
“Do you want me to leave?” Little by little.
- Ben Lerner
“Can you hear me?” In the pejorative sense.
- Ben Lerner
My facility with parataxis makes me respected, feared.
- Ben Lerner
as if et cetera were an aesthetics
- ben lerner
Friends describe my DISPOSITION
as stoic. Like a dead fish, an ex said. 

- Solmaz Sharif
You existed to me, you were a theory.
Tracy K. Smith
So much we once coveted. So much
That would have saved us, but lived,
Instead, its own quick span, returning
To uselessness with the mute acquiescence
Of shed skin.

- Tracy K. Smith
Travel selfies
AR

status signaling
attraction-shading effect
the visual colonization of the place by the subject
The Weather in Space
Tracy K. Smith

Is God being or pure force? The wind
Or what commands it? When our lives slow
And we can hold all that we love, it sprawls
In our laps like a gangly doll. When the storm
Kicks up and nothing is ours, we go chasing
After all we’re certain to lose, so alive—
Faces radiant with panic.
Have you ever wanted to be so rich
your uterus is glitzed as a luxury apartment
lips Lana Del Rey swollen
lifting every song from the ether of glamour
and grief bee-stung
with a hunger that keeps us honest
so that we’re bursting
with it sometimes the hydraulics
of ghosts jacked up on perverse longing?

Kendra DeColo