"Put a blanket."

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Can I see

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

kind of mythopoesis

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

hiding from the rain

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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.