Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

wait what is that

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

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

December 2025

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

Slug

yes

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, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

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.

this will be about a slug

its good

feel you

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

thank you

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

what do you mean

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

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

is this you as well

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

really i want the internet

I Write Goodbye Letter

It Will Get Lighter

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate