Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

i really havent

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

the site i am dreaming

I Write Goodbye Letter

and the fake qualifier

...

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.

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

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

Rain, starting

...

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.

you have a beautiful account btw

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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 wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak