After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

Lift Analysis

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.

Can I see

Picture

i see a website

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.

It Will Get Lighter

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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 

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

no longer writing in the third person

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