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.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

IWGD

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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.

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

Style

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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

but i respect your search

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03