in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

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

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

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

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

It Will Get Lighter

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
part of an old note. It will get lighter.

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

division of reality is straying away from it

and the fake qualifier

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

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

isaac newton

i understand

Can I see

1

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.

what do you mean

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