It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
currently
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
i see a website
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
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
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
kind of mythopoesis
in a post. I want to be remembered