sorry i am texting like a slav


Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

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

no like which do people call me

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

plato

i want to do that too

ahnaf abrar

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

no longer writing in the third person

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

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

god being the centre magnet

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

much more tactility

so at the end