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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Lift Analysis

in a post. I want to be remembered

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 dont understand magnetisation


mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

its performative

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.

its good

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

autonomy of learning

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

we can only engage in such a way

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

is this you as well

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos