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

no longer writing in the third person

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

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

It Will Get Lighter

Lift Analysis

it is hopeful

Rain, starting

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

really i want the internet

13, H, grate

division of reality is straying away from it

currently

I am below everything.

we can only engage in such a way

much more tactility

"Put a blanket."

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.

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying