Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

IWGD



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.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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 really the thing should be autonomous

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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

13, H, grate

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

god being the centre magnet

much more tactility

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

whats your name?