no longer writing in the third person

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

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

2 (actually index). two is company

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

Lift Analysis

you know who you are. no more time, not like 1. way too specific.

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

Slug

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

...

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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.

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations: