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 heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Rain, starting

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

Picture

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

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

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

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

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

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

1

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

not their contents