...

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

Better Lift

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

It's

dusk

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

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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 quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

or never left

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

so an active mazelike process

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.

plato

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

you have a beautiful account btw

2 (actually index). two is company

much more tactility

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

Lift Analysis

really i want the internet