but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
"Put a blanket."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
hiding from the rain
no longer writing in the third person
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
currently
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
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.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.