something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

I am below everything.

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.

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

no longer writing in the third person

hiding from the rain

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59