like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

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

and the fake qualifier

which magnetises chains of pins

send your tumblr

yeah

that looks like my instagram account

we can only engage in such a way

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

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

what do you mean

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

i have read not even 1 book

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

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

fw

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

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

kind of mythopoesis

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

not their contents

lol yea

its good

magnetisation/form

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time