plato
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
it is hopeful
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
kind of mythopoesis
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There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
but really the thing should be autonomous
i see a website
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
you have a beautiful account btw
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
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
but i respect your search
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?
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
hello reader,