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

I am below everything.

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kind of mythopoesis

Today I felt like starting

it is hopeful

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

in a post. I want to be remembered

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

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

you have a beautiful account btw

so an active mazelike process

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

much more tactility

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.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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

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

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.