what do you think my name is

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

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

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 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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Style

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

no longer writing in the third person

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

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.

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.

currently

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

hiding from the rain

i see a website