They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

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.

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

It Will Get Lighter

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

Today I felt like starting

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.

fw

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

magnetisation/form

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

kind of mythopoesis

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

so the method has to be autonomous

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

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

13, H, grate

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak