isaac

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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.

Today I felt like starting

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

i see a website

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

propensity within someone

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

division of reality is straying away from it

as in

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

lol

but really the thing should be autonomous

not their contents

we want to live the knowledge too live the content