IWGD

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

idk

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.

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Picture

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.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46


ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

the site i am dreaming

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

Slug

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
"Put a blanket."

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

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.