Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.I am below everything.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
you cannot feed someone truth
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"Put a blanket."
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
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.
in a post. I want to be remembered