plato
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Today I felt like starting
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
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
no longer writing in the third person
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
but really the thing should be autonomous
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
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.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03