Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I am below everything.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Can I see
really i want the internet
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
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
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.
"Put a blanket."
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.