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.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.in a post. I want to be remembered
Lift Analysis
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
so the method has to be autonomous
you have a beautiful account btw
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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
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 am below everything.
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
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
we need to be deconstructing our identities