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.

was it worth it

but really the thing should be autonomous

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

I am below everything.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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 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.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

brb i will read and reply sincerely

kind of mythopoesis

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Rain, starting

Lift Analysis

"Put a blanket."

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.

so the method has to be autonomous

no like which do people call me

division of reality is straying away from it

feel you

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

as in