I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.

but i respect your search

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

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

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

no longer writing in the third person

you have a beautiful account btw

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

"Put a blanket."

...

It Will Get Lighter

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

and the fake qualifier

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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