barren land
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.
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 am quite illiterate on producing technology
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Better Lift
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."