I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

magnetises a pin

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

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

I am below everything.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

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.

thank you

so the method has to be autonomous

Picture

i love it here

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

December 2025