I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.
you cannot feed someone truth
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
all that is to say
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
but really the thing should be autonomous
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
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
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
no longer writing in the third person
not their contents
we can only engage in such a way
I am below everything.