what do you think my name is

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

It Will Get Lighter

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

        13       |
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She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

Today I felt like starting

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

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'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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

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

hiding from the rain

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

much more tactility

yeah

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

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