1

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i see a website

"Put a blanket."

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

so the method has to be autonomous

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

plato

its performative

no like which do people call me

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

its good short few pages

isaac