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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

we can only engage in such a way

Rain, starting

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

really i want the internet

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

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 textwall is as much for me as it is for you

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

you have a beautiful account btw

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

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.

Picture

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

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 am below everything.

Thank you, Jack

but i respect your search

Today I felt like starting