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

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

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

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.

Better Lift

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

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

it is hopeful

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

really i want the internet

you cannot feed someone truth

but really the thing should be autonomous

brb i will read and reply sincerely

I am below everything.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

It Will Get Lighter

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

It's

dusk

all that is to say

kind of mythopoesis

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.