Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
but really the thing should be autonomous
no longer writing in the third person
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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
Thank you, Jack
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
kind of mythopoesis
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
wait what is that
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it