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

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.

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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

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.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

It Will Get Lighter

currently

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

...

i want to do that too

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

like magnets

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

plato

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

so at the end