Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
isaac newton
kind of mythopoesis
Thank you, Jack
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 know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
what do you mean
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
so the method has to be autonomous
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine