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 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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Better Lift

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

magnetisation/form

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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

its performative

as in

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you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

hello reader,

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

really i want the internet

i see a website