After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
kind of mythopoesis
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.but really the thing should be autonomous
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
Better Lift
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