somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
the site i am dreaming
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
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
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
propensity within someone
i see a website
so at the end
so the method has to be autonomous
all that is to say
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
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.
but really the thing should be autonomous
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
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
division of reality is straying away from it
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
you cannot feed someone truth