Desert (7 December 2025)
 Don’t die for this shit. So many squirrels were collecting nuts on the wavy leaf-covered hills spreading out. So I crossed the bridge, the airport highway roaring like wind, and met someone who recognized me. I’ve been passing these days in the desert, a dusty yellow and grey carpet. Horses or camels. Some secret agents processed by in pairs of three. Space cities. Twin Peaks and Princess Jellyfish identify similar best detectives. C9 has been like the Nunnery. I wrote an edict on sensitivity and agency. The paradox of fakeness. Line up! One side straight as canes; the other flat as divans! Snowing on the page, my association, searching confusedly, chose (and mistakenly severed) one token reminder in opposition to desolation to return non-linearly. Our book club is enjoying our first week of Blood Meridian. The way my week is scheduled oddly, when we’ll start a new section each Monday, I’ll be at my most desert-worn, dusty and fatigued. “The section of stovepipe […] to quit the place of smoke.”
 Matt is filming in India after all.
 I woke up and there was absolutely nothing wrong with the world. Miraculously astonishing sunny winter day. I thought of Risky Safety and suicide and how I wished I could save someone. Don’t step off the chair… And I saw the cover art for Kokoro… and was enamored. From what I can gather it’s an eroge about a boy who was raped by his family, killed them, and continues to have an incestuous relationship with his sister, and one website even listed it as containing scatology; it was recalled at first. He’s supposed to be traumatized and empty from meaningless constant gratification. I was thinking as far as my idol career goes, I could compare myself to an underground eroge maker, even though my drawing skills are nowhere near as good. While searching for it, I also came across the OST for Kokoro Toshokan Communication Library; I love the orchestral vocal synths it uses. I listened to Long Distance in the shower, the horns from Undertow so heralding. Taking me back to Video Project 3, I could’ve used the Sonic Riders OST for it too. But again the meaninglessness of dancing quietly. The mind forms its view of an object by a collection of focused impressions, resulting in funhouse distortions. Regardless, a whispered serenity warmed me. Running errands, the moon was full and encompassing.

Cumuli (22 November 2025)
 Horrible grey. I still haven’t finished The Rainbow because romance isn’t the most appealing to me right now. I love the world, but it’s unrequited, or maybe it’s like a mother who guides you (externality affirmation). I’m trying not to let setbacks turn into catastrophes, but I feel like I’m undergoing a cursed period; waiting for the bell to ring… If the past was hell, and the present is limbo, then next must be heaven (eyes rolling back in ecstasy).
 Blood Meridian won the book club poll. We’re starting it December.
 The two zines in the images section are finally up. Neocities doesn’t support .cbz files, so I had to make a makeshift reader. I don’t know js, so it was the best I could do. Antoine suggested to put a link on the reader back to the homepage, so I might do that later.
 I listened to Saariaho’s Jardin secret I and II sleepy in bed and imagined strange forms and beings accumulating in a grey sky over a solid, flat sheet of ice (I drew a sketch I should refine for later. This is my problem piling up work jotting down ideas). In her secret garden… Oh, please, don’t implicate me, anything but that. It happened completely over my head. My eyes and ears were merely floating in a dream. I walked out into the night, into the night forest, wild dogs burrowing, and the devil weeping. Sliding doors of the castle, one room after another. Blindfolded maidens tended to bowls of water. Time to choose. (WIP)
 Check out Eman’s review of Angel’s Egg, because it’s funny:
 Update: I didn’t think the author liked Ursula. I didn’t like her either, and I don’t like myself. It’s a torrent of guilt, the horse kick to the face. Notes on the online reading: I am currently neptuned. I’m stuck in a Chiron loop. I’m harboring one-sided resentment while they are living on cluelessly. She is simply moving on with a drink or two. I am her. Something wild is growing in me, something that isn’t farmed or clouded. I was housing a sad vision of myself. The other person was a symbol of my grief, rule-abiding, ultimately debased. But there was something deeper to her, of course, the moon, which isn’t something I can have for myself, nor from anyone, just how Ursula couldn’t. But two opposing feelings can coexist. I talked to someone today who said more good women have been lost to marriage than any war, famine, or disease. There are many ways of reaching conclusions. I will constantly revolutionize and break rules. Chance time for confirmation. Fingers crossed, one blindfolded maiden holds up! It just told me to shut up and post. The ending of The Rainbow somehow gave me an unexpected view of the culmination from atop the arch, and redeemed her separateness.

Grey Sky Redesign (14 November 2025)
 I redesigned the website. It was a learning process. The background is really pixelated; maybe I should change that... I changed the information section on the homepage to a bulletin board, in connection to the corkboard I have in my room now, for displaying whatever. I compiled all the MS Paint drawings into one zine, with a lot of added content, called Chapel. I plan on making more installments of it as I practice drawing in the future. I’d even sketched out a different cover for volume 1, but decided I’d probably use it for volume 2. I’m hoping to write here weekly to create the sense of eventfulness, as many of our big projects are slowly but surely coming to a close.
 This week in cloudfarm, Matt streamed Final Fantasy X Episode 6. Rather than Pokémon, it was like if the Blue Jays had a Powerade vending machine in their locker room and Dallas loomed in the distance. I found this vending machine guide. Some filming. We went to see Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie in Montreal. It was like a concrete hellscape driving in with huge expansive tech buildings on each side. I wondered how people could even fill them. Matt had to make a lot of really tight turns down the underground parking garage. Cars are imprisoning.
 Fanums! Those summer days are gone, but may return! Smoke has been covering the city these last returns. A fog has been covering most people’s minds anyways. I'm thinking about cruise ships in relation to Retreat from the Sun, very personally. World travel possibilities vs. vaping at the slot machine. I’m still suffering throat sanctions, but I’m slowly healing. Reilly lives in Australia now, and William lives in Halifax, so maybe I'll visit them.
 I’ve almost finished reading The Rainbow by D. H. Lawrence. The colliery pits, mechanical and mathematical; Pits Are the Pits! I relate to Ursula by how she’s described as only ever defining herself in negation. I enjoy his descriptions of nature. Surprisingly, having picked it off the shelf randomly, I found a pretty sensual yuri scene in it between her and her older teacher. I'm going to do a book club with the others next, probably alongside another book. Jackson read The Futurological Congress recently because he was attracted to the art on the cover. He didn’t know it was by Klee, so when I told him, he facepalmed.