It Will Get Lighter

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

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.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

you have a beautiful account btw

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

really i want the internet

Thank you, Jack

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

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

hiding from the rain

"Put a blanket."

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.

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.

kind of mythopoesis

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books