Thank you, Jack

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

no longer writing in the third person

1

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

i see a website

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

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

"Put a blanket."

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Style

Picture

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

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.

kind of mythopoesis