It Will Get Lighter

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

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.

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.

i love it here

Today I felt like starting

no longer writing in the third person

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

or never left

...

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

send link

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.

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.