One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

IWGD

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

but really the thing should be autonomous

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

"Put a blanket."

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

I am below everything.

really i want the internet

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

brb i will read and reply sincerely

It's

dusk

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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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting