okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
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.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
propensity within someone
hiding from the rain
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
kind of mythopoesis
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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.
no longer writing in the third person
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46