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 have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Worse Lift

IWGD

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Rain, starting

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

it is hopeful

Thank you, Jack

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

13, H, grate

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

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

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

kind of mythopoesis


i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos 
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