The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
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
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
in a post. I want to be remembered
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
the site i am dreaming
send link
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.
i really havent
and the fake qualifier