They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

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.

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

Slug

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.


I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.


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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting