It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
"Put a blanket."
no longer writing in the third person
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.
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.Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
currently
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
it is hopeful
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03