nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
it is hopeful
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
kind of mythopoesis
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
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.