I Write Goodbye Letter

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

its performative

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

division of reality is straying away from it

It Will Get Lighter

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.

not their contents

in a post. I want to be remembered

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

It Will Get Lighter

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them. 

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

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.

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

hiding from the rain

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging