I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

your feed looks like my tumblr

all that is to say

abrar?

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

its performative

no longer writing in the third person

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

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

you cannot feed someone truth

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

plato

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

"Put a blanket."

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.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

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

kind of mythopoesis

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

magnetisation/form

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

or never left