it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Rain, starting

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Thank you, Jack

"Put a blanket."

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

kind of mythopoesis

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.

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