sorry i am texting like a slav

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

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

Worse Lift

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Thank you, Jack

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

this will be about a slug

feel you

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

that looks like my instagram account

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

i was tempted to lie about my name

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

fw

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

what do you think my name is

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

...

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

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."