Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

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

isaac

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

sorry i am texting like a slav

no i haven't really read anything

...

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

like first name

2 (actually index). two is company

we can only engage in such a way

not so on: yvf(wthw)

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

you have a beautiful account btw

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate