so at the end
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
send link
the site i am dreaming
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
was it worth it
its performative
...
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
ahnaf abrar
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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
all that is to say
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
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.