whats your name?

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

really i want the internet

but really the thing should be autonomous

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.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

Worse Lift

Style

I am below everything.

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

no longer writing in the third person

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

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

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

Better Lift

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged