The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

Today I felt like starting

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

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.

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

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

currently

kind of mythopoesis

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

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

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch