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Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

wait what is that

December 2025

It Will Get Lighter

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

hiding from the rain

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.

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

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.

was it worth it

13, H, grate

Better Lift


something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.