Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

no longer writing in the third person


I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

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 am quite illiterate on producing technology

It Will Get Lighter

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me



but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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


somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

        13       |
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The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.


i see a website

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Picture

hiding from the rain

13, H, grate

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.

kind of mythopoesis

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful