03.10.25
Unfortunately, my country and home, the United States,
must be, in the words of my Egyptian friends,
beaten like a dog in the street.


03.07.25


03.06.25 I don't like the pattern
my pubic hair grows in.


03.05.25 I have shown
disrespect and doubt
to my spiritual master.
(Also uploaded a poem.)


03.04.25 My 2-minute Hate
brings me back into the world.
But what more could be!

03.01.25 Hijacked by rage.

02.24.25 - how little of me
belongs to me...

02.16.25 - In seeking spiritual attainment
and moral perfection and perfect conviction,
I am really only rejecting vulnerability.
My hurt will always be with me.
It is who I am.

02.09.25 - Made this little thingy scrollable.

01.18.25 - I am rewriting parts of broom
and I hope I will find it a more suitable ending.
In making art, I sometimes find myself wanting to
evoke certain attitudes I endure now and then
that are bleak and hopeless. Where the magic of
the world is gone, the people around me seem plastic,
their expressions pre-fabricanted by some
programmatic deity that abandoned the project long ago,
and my eternal participation in it all a mere ritual of
observing the vacant horror over and over in perpetuity.
Certainly, one can write effectively
on these matters, but I don't feel the current
ending of broom succeeds one way or the other.
And if it's not going to be a successful horror
book, I should probably give the Nightjars a
better ending.
Ta-ta,
-Ellsif