dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
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.
"Put a blanket."
yes
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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
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?
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.somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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kind of mythopoesis
I am below everything.