It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

It Will Get Lighter

Rain, starting

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

no longer writing in the third person

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

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.

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

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

all that is to say