She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
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
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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
it is hopeful
no longer writing in the third person
but really the thing should be autonomous
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.
Thank you, Jack
currently
kind of mythopoesis
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
December 2025
was it worth it
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.