Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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.

13, H, grate

Rain, starting

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

you cannot feed someone truth

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

not their contents

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

you have a beautiful account btw

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

so the method has to be autonomous

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

Better Lift

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

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.

no longer writing in the third person

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

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 am below everything.