Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

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

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

kind of mythopoesis

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Rain, starting

i see a website

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

really i want the internet

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

but i respect your search

I am below everything.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

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

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

no longer writing in the third person

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

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

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

not their contents

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03