"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
"Put a blanket."
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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


Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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

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

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

Thank you, Jack

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

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.

division of reality is straying away from it

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

not their contents

have you read