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.

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.


Worse Lift

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

feel you

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

all that is to say

"Put a blanket."

propensity within someone

not their contents

we can only engage in such a way

which magnetises chains of pins

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

its good

so an active mazelike process