DEAR LOVERS, READERS, FANS, AUTOBOTS:
All apologies for the lack of updates. I am a student. A graduate student. That means at times I have too much time and at others, too little. I am sorry for leaving before the end of the movie. Your dear protagonist is much alive, despite efforts to the contrary.
Witness:
Sincerely yours,
Alexander P. Dupont
and you wake up and get to feel the same mistakes [][][][][][][] you were right, you were right, but you wanted me to die and so 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 when you get what you want 1111111111111111111 it will hurt worse then you realize 2222222222222222222222222222222 and now when its years from now and you are in a situation that arises you will say 33333333333333333333333333 why did i ever do this?
i win.
PARTAKE:
[picture to follow]
Fire eye’d boy giv’em all the slip,
what rhymes with capitulation? cohabitation? you are my own worst enemy. if i could stare at you person, i would, but im left to consume your words from afar and wonder whats buried underneath. i want to cut myself out from this and onto my own. to be young and naive and caught up in the trivial sure is grand [friend is a four letter word and so are you]. [][][][][][] I’m thinking that it’s a signnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn that it’s time to realign and correspondingly shift one’s shape to miss you to death. ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() i hate your historical narrative, and i must interject here, there are gaps and revisions that do not make the truth clear 0000000000000000 i liked your lies about some idealistic future 11111111111111111111111111
i tried the best to leave this on your conscious but Lenin never went on vacation (though apparently he went on walks in Switzerland). consider:
tell me am i wrong to think that there may be nothing better. sheep may go to heaven, but you have to lead them to the slaughter first. but we’ve all had our chance, so say goodbye
What happens in London does not stay in London (or the reincarnation of numerous and simultaneous existential crises goes boink):
Fuck. Well I’ve managed to spend a solid month in the captivity of my room, entrenched with my seemingly limitless studies and essay-writing. My latest piece involves an analysis of the profit-squeeze hypothesis (a early 1970’s Marxist framework on the end of the “Golden Age” of capitalism) and subsidiary alterations to the hypothesis that I feel are relevant. Talk about god damn specialization of labor. Any input on how to remedy my essence back into being centered and social again would be much appreciated. Yes, I have though about E. PS This is how we look… now:
