with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.no longer writing in the third person
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 see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
kind of mythopoesis
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
was it worth it
and the fake qualifier
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
...
bro i read nothing in my life