It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die. 

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Rain, starting

Thank you, Jack

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

kind of mythopoesis

no longer writing in the third person

Today I felt like starting

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

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

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Style

plato

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

we can only engage in such a way

i love it here

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

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