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

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

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

Picture

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

no longer writing in the third person

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

hiding from the rain

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.

i really havent

no like which do people call me

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

we need to be deconstructing our identities

division of reality is straying away from it

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

i was tempted to lie about my name

yeah