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

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.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

you have a beautiful account btw

really i want the internet

not their contents

magnetisation/form

Today I felt like starting

as in

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

feel you

its good

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

so the method has to be autonomous

i really havent

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

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.

idk