I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

not their contents

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

lol

thank you

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

really i want the internet

yeah

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

all that is to say

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

barren land

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

kind of mythopoesis

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

ahnaf abrar

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

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

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

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

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

was it worth it

god being the centre magnet

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.

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything