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.

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.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

13, H, grate

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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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?

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

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.

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

It Will Get Lighter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

2 (actually index). two is company