It Will Get Lighter

much more tactility

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

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

I am below everything.

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

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

It's

dusk

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

It Will Get Lighter

"Put a blanket."

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

Today I felt like starting

hiding from the rain

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

its performative

you cannot feed someone truth

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

really i want the internet

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Worse Lift

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

in a post. I want to be remembered