i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse


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

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

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

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

Rain, starting

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Better Lift

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


Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Can I see

yes

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

kind of mythopoesis