I am below everything.

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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.

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.

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

Better Lift

no longer writing in the third person

it is hopeful

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

i see a website