There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
no longer writing in the third person
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
in a post. I want to be remembered
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox."I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
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
Better Lift
is everyoneback on tumblr now
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
you cannot feed someone truth
as in
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak