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what do you think my name is
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
i see a website
was it worth it
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
have you read
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
isaac
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
like magnets