...

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered


After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

1

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

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.

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

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