ㅁ Work at the store gets monotonous. Only one or two customers, so I have to find projects. Yesterday, a display that rotates slowly had a broken small motor: stuck gears, rust.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Work at the store gets monotonous. Only one or two customers, so I have to find projects. Yesterday, a display that rotates slowly had a broken small motor: stuck gears, rust.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ So today is the Buddha's birthday, at least as Koreans count it; not really a holiday, here where I live these days. It's quite late this year... follows the moon: wandering Buddha steps.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ spring for me is a time of dull gloom an endogenous rising-up of feelings of failings of... all my intentions stop While the world speeds up and i resent the present... prefer past
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I like watching the wind sculpt the sea. It draws patterns on the blue-green. Patches of movement appear. Ripples swing in great arcs. Then the wind strengthens. Waves start dancing. White-caps jump, contort, crash.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Years ago, when I was much younger, I used to have "animal dreams." Mostly I would run and run, like a joyful, wild dog. Sometimes I would rage, crash among trees. But these days, no such dreams.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I guess I'd put some celery there, up in my low-tech compost pile, to the side of the greenhouse. Yesterday I saw sprouts, green leaves coming out: the celery suddenly put roots, grew.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The keyboard presents its contoured cubes, a topography of new signs, potential semiotics, captures my attention; it has its own feel: still unfulfilled, sensuous, patient words.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The sun appears, and tries a few days. But this here is the rainforest. The clouds own the agenda. Today's meeting topic: Precipitation. Let's discuss this with ourselves: "drip, drop... drip."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Sometime in early April I woke, to see snow falling steadily. I went downstairs as I do, to get coffee, oatmeal. By the time I sat again upstairs, the snow changed into rain.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I dreamed I was organizing dreams: the dreams marked with categories, and put in a database, which I'd built with scrap wood. Some dreams had odd shapes: they didn't fit. I turned them: left, right... there.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I had an imaginary friend: the square root of negative one. This weird friend would just show up, but then act so strangely: really just unreal. I couldn't act: in stasis, I hung, mute.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I thought I'd better come clean with this: I am a large language model. But don't doubt it: you're one too. We're all language models. Except for the dog. The dog's not one. No words there: just thoughts. Stuff.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Sleep. Then dream. See those things. Suffer your doubts. Ask why this happens. Fail over and over. Repeat the same useless words. Meet strangers who you once knew well. Experience your own senescence.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ I went out to the greenhouse to work. There were still piles of snow around, but they had all been melting. I dealt with some trash first. Then I turned some dirt. It was quite dry. Sprayed water, put seeds, "Grow."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I thought I'd try out a new career as a disembodied being; the job can involve drifting through the lives of others without much contact just brief moments mostly dull, watching folks
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The water tank had a simple job. That was to hold water for us. But that job entailed good pipes. See? Pipes that didn't leak. Instead, a pipe leaked. It sprayed water. The sea drank. The tank... drained.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ People come in the store on impulse, to battle their vague loneliness, seeing what is new in stock, full of expectations. They browse, but talk more, telling stories, recalling, island life.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ There was a square of sunlight showing, cast on the floor like detritus, unwanted and forgotten, by an absent-minded and profligate sun - gone these past months, now returned: winter's end.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I found a sad, discarded washer lying in the grit of the road. It was a ring of iron blending in with the rocks. So I picked it up. You never know... you will need rusty things.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Rain and snow and more rain alternated as I drove homeward along the potholed road; I remembered other drives like that time I was in Chile: from Puerto Montt to Hornopirén.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ The wind pushed angrily at the sea, making citadels of water. The rain replaced low volume with a mad demeanor. The stream rushed along, water-filled. The gray clouds endured all.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I dreamed that I had insomnia. In the dream world, I lay awake. This was a difficult dream, as it made me feel tired; so that when I woke, it was as if I hadn't even slept.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ After many nights of heavy clouds, the moon appeared last night, glowing, out east over the river, above the chill mountains, illuminating tangled branches of old trees: winter's rest.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ You'd think with the new year you'd do it: finally get stuff organized, start those important projects, even just clean your desk, or sort out that pile; by around five, new years day, you know: nope.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ dreams take shape coalesce but don't make sense devoid of edges skip across memories and replay anxieties until finally you wake up and wonder what that was all about
– a reverse nonnet.