I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

Rain, starting

"Put a blanket."

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

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.

yes

kind of mythopoesis

hiding from the rain