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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

...

"Put a blanket."

Rain, starting

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

kind of mythopoesis

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

in a post. I want to be remembered

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.