Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

Style




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

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

13, H, grate

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

it is hopeful

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

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08


so the method has to be autonomous

Better Lift

really i want the internet