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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

i really havent

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Rain, starting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

...

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.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

13, H, grate

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now