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.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

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

13, H, grate

It Will Get Lighter

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

not their contents

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

its good

like first name

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

all that is to say

Style

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

isaac newton

sorry i am texting like a slav

division of reality is straying away from it

magnetises a pin

plato

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.

---

is this you as well

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

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it 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.