Today I felt like starting

Worse Lift

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

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

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse


IWGD

13, H, grate

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

really i want the internet

it is hopeful

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

no longer writing in the third person

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

Thank you, Jack

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