Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
currently
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
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
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.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?
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
it is hopeful
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you