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.

i really havent

IWGD

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

Lift Analysis

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Rain, starting

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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.

currently

"Put a blanket."

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

yes

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

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

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

Better Lift

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

that looks like my instagram account

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet