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.

Picture

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


Worse Lift

Today I felt like starting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Better Lift

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Rain, starting

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

much more tactility

brb i will read and reply sincerely

autonomy of learning

hiding from the rain

Lift Analysis

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

as in

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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.

this will be about a slug