brb i will read and reply sincerely
not their contents
as in
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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
division of reality is straying away from it
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 it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
you have a beautiful account btw
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
we can only engage in such a way
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
idk
but i respect your search
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 guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
magnetises a pin
December 2025
what do you think my name is
and the fake qualifier
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
was it worth it
your feed looks like my tumblr
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet