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.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

but really the thing should be autonomous

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

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

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

but i respect your search

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

Thank you, Jack