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.

fw

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

i really havent

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

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
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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

thank you

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

and the fake qualifier

propensity within someone

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.

its performative

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46