ALL QUIRKED UP WITH NOWHERE TO GO

Who cares what you have written, what you will write, who looks after you when it rains . . .

We lie, we do everything in the world to keep love safe, we hide in the tortoise, we go insane one by one, like a relay race. Don’t say anything, live

The biggest goal I have is eternal gossip. That will end Kantbot and everyone else. I want mike lindell. I want timperlake. I want matt ox

I like sharing shit, I don’t like writing, the shame-burn is evolution alone

The surface of this fake-ass Finnegans Wake NFT is the surface of an eternal scattering, it’s not meant to be read (it reads itself)

Kowtow is the only active Chinese word in English, and it means, originally, ‘to bow to the Chinese’. Go figure, quantum kowtower

Finneganswake.eth was the beginning of the end. We mistook content for the sky or the limit, no matter which. It was the beginning of an answer to the question, ‘what becomes of literature at an actual end of the world’, i.e. it became blank, without features, increasingly non-readable, quirked, up

Like an object left to wander through space

anything else is insulting

all quirked up with nowhere left to go

𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓛𝓮𝓿𝔂 @mimpathy

all quirked up with nowhere 2 go