w29 '26

hello

it’s me

the same rabbit as before

first day, second day. it’s okay that you don’t just because i do, and it’s okay that you don’t, because i do. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.

lights off, machine talk, night space, pre-watch. not raedy, not ready, not ready, not ready. midnight, one-two. testing, want to. sleeping, waking, all day, working, round and round and round and round. and it’s good now, quick dips and repair on the go. bipedal repair kit.

get up there and tell them. they ought to know. little naughty animals. next year, next year, next year, next year. who knows. sometimes. scraps from the table. this land, your land. pickled blood. i’ve a reason. a little salt. and not just that, but every day. potassium.

everything down on paper. paper is plastic, acrylic and pens. i’ll keep standing up, i guess. everything down. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too. that would help. fusion, vision, future, fission. not because of that, but independently in response to that. like end of winter. pickled blood. a little nitrate. leafy grebes. starling, shrike. murderous shrike, head on a spike. painting of a warbler impaled on a thorn by an iberian shrike in the winter.

“whose side are you fucking on”

“oh my god i am so sorry”

don’t you apologize to this man, tell him he’s a cunt, tell keith he’s a cunt!

✅ highlight mentions

✅ highlight moments

✅ highlight breakfasts

radiate. or, i guess, emanate. waves. light, pouring out. rippling through. glow, shiver. doing okay? good, thanks. everything out on the table. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too, it could help. nobody wants it? i’m partially undone. take it slow. break for lunch. queens. space. good thing. close up shop. nap time. dinner, trapped. happy. glad to be. share a secret, just a moment. building tension, walking bass. blood like apricots. washing faces, locked in place, softer, weaker, seventh seal or those are only there to make you feel better. have you seen this bird? that’s… a… cocktail tastes like popcorn paste the sun sets orange misty dark and hazy lilac crescent moon and darkened windows leaning back like overground and lower stakes and higher spirits churches basements jazz piano. and, it’s the fortnight after one piece torn and red and yellow tearing. string lightly held between the teeth. but not that, eactly. just, “tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts”, snare drum rattling, cow bell. i mean, it’s the story, all these strands over and over. that’s how, is what i mean. yes, just like that with leaves and trees. just like that. each one is all the other ones.

rar, but did i remember to write it down? thank god for the morning. and all those little parts. red september, red october. and, like we always do. and, the cheese. plenty of times. i didn’t mean it to be that way, all one register. we’ll work on that. i mean that i will. i mean, not exactly. i wasn’t on the plane when the plane went in the sky. but thank god for in the morning.

and the notebook making station. and that little corner where the memories come from. and es, the whole thing has been for three quarters of a year. nearly a ear. i feel a tickle in my chest and i sneezed twice. i’m out of estrogen. i’ll be home later in the week. maybe my lungs are tired from cigarettes.

but especially… there’s something there in the space between.

sorry if there’s anything missing.