There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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.
hiding from the rain
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
but really the thing should be autonomous
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.
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
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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.