so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

so an active mazelike process

Picture

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.

hiding from the rain

kind of mythopoesis

no longer writing in the third person

Lift Analysis

Rain, starting

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

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 wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

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

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

i see a website

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

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