sorry i am texting like a slav
Can I see
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
kind of mythopoesis
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
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
currently
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
"Put a blanket."
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
whats your name?
plato
really i want the internet
its good
as in
propensity within someone
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
was it worth it
I am below everything.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet