I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

god being the centre magnet

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

kind of mythopoesis

"Put a blanket."

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

Can I see

sorry i am texting like a slav

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

like first name

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

IWGD

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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