i really havent

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

I am below everything.

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.

Picture

Better Lift


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

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

really i want the internet

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

its performative

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

as in

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?