Better Lift

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.

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.

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

1

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

no longer writing in the third person

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

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

Can I see

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.