we can only engage in such a way
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Thank you, Jack
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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 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.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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 know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
kind of mythopoesis
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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
Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?