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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

i see a website

really i want the internet

Better Lift

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.

Style

hiding from the rain

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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.

you have a beautiful account btw

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged