Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
so an active mazelike process
I am below everything.
"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
so the method has to be autonomous
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
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.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
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.
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.
Today I felt like starting
lol
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
its good short few pages
or never left
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged