a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

I am below everything.

Style

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

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.

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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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 got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️