Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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.



"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

no longer writing in the third person

Worse Lift


Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

all that is to say

I Write Goodbye Letter


I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

It Will Get Lighter

its performative

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

you cannot feed someone truth



magnetisation/form