a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.
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.
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too
specific.
no longer writing in the third person
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about...
whatever
and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging
Slug
confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with
it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.
13, H, grate
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But
like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it
recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare
seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
