Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

Rain, starting

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

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

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

It Will Get Lighter

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

it is hopeful

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

lol

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

which magnetises chains of pins

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

plato

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

fw

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class