a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.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
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.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
hiding from the rain
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
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.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
lol
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
its good
Today I felt like starting
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
no i haven't really read anything
Better Lift
its good
division of reality is straying away from it