It's

dusk

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

autonomy of learning

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

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

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

I am below everything.

hiding from the rain

we can only engage in such a way

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

your feed looks like my tumblr

1

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

isaac newton

all that is to say

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

currently

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

Rain, starting

division of reality is straying away from it

barren land

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

i love it here

like magnets

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?

Today I felt like starting