with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"Put a blanket."
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
so at the end
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
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.
hiding from the rain
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
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
we can only engage in such a way
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
...
Better Lift
and the fake qualifier
bro i read nothing in my life
no longer writing in the third person
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.
i really havent
and the fake qualifier