Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
I am below everything.
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?
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.
no longer writing in the third person
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Today I felt like starting
but really the thing should be autonomous
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.