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

isaac newton

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

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.

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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it is hopeful

...

...

you cannot feed someone truth

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

so an active mazelike process

that looks like my instagram account

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Lift Analysis

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

Better Lift

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