i really havent

IWGD

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

Better Lift

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

kind of mythopoesis

currently

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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