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

i really havent

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

Thank you, Jack

Today I felt like starting

Worse Lift

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.

hiding from the rain

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |
"Put a blanket."

Picture

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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

I am below everything.

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