fw

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

I am below everything.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

December 2025

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
hello reader,

It Will Get Lighter

and the fake qualifier

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.

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

I Write Goodbye Letter

...

division of reality is straying away from it

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

the site i am dreaming